Despite numerous global health initiatives after World War II, tuberculosis still poses a major threat in sub-Saharan Africa. This article examines one attempt to tackle this problem: the Somalia-Finland Tuberculosis Control Project. Conducted in the 1980s as a bilateral development aid project between the two countries, it became the most extensive – and expensive – tuberculosis initiative in Somalia in that decade. An interesting feature of the project is that, despite a lack of previous experience in tuberculosis work in developing countries, the Finnish partner decided not to follow the WHO global guidelines designed to standardise tuberculosis activities across the developing world. Instead, Finns established their own treatment programme based on X-ray and short-course chemotherapy – otherwise rarely used in clinical practice in Africa. Through a close reading and comparison of the correspondence, project plans, memos and minutes, the article analyses the formation of this strategy. Focusing on ground-level decision-making, it argues that the decisions were based not only on a belief in the superior clinical effectiveness of these methods, but also on the fact that they better suited Finnish ambitions and project logic. Thus, the article supports the notion that donor perspectives on resources and project objectives determined what was seen as feasible treatment in a developing country. By shedding light on the debate between the supporters of short-course chemotherapy and the WHO standard treatment strategy, it also contributes to the early history of DOTS (directly observed treatment, short course).

During the Great Plague of London (1665), William Winstanley veered from his better known roles as arbiter of success and failure in his works of biography or as a comic author under the pseudonym Poor Robin, and instead engaged with his reading audience as a plague writer in the rare book The Christians Refuge: Or Heavenly Antidotes Against the Plague in this Time of Generall Contagion to Which is Added the Charitable Physician (1665). From its extensive paratexts, including a table of mortality statistics and woodcut of king death, to its temporal and providential interpretation of the disease between the covers of a single text, The Christians Refuge is a compendium of contemporary understanding of plague. This article addresses The Christians Refuge as an expression of London’s print marketplace in a moment of transformation precipitated by the epidemic. The author considers the paratextual elements in The Christians Refuge that engage with the presiding norms in plague writing and publishing in 1665 and also explores how Winstanley’s authorship is expressed in the work. Winstanley has long been seen as a biographer or as a humour writer; attributing The Christians Refuge extends and challenges previous perceptions of his work.

This article focuses on Britain’s 1917 National Baby Week and specifically how it played out in London. Pageantry and celebration were an important part of the event, and possibly a welcome distraction from the trials and horrors of war, and they were embraced by women of all social classes. But there was much more to it, as women who led the event seized the opportunity for political purposes, in what appeared to be an unthreatening environment of celebrating motherhood. Their goal was to promote the material wellbeing of, and state support for, women and children, and in this they were remarkably successful. Baby Week was also seized upon as an opportunity to showcase other welfare systems as a model for Britain, focusing in particular on New Zealand, with its free and comprehensive health service for infants. Rather than reflecting the eugenic and pronatalist concerns of the establishment, the event should be seen as a moment of politicisation of women arguing for cross-class social reform targeted at mothers.

For more than a century, McCord Hospital, a partly private and partly state-subsidised mission hospital has provided affordable health-care services, as well as work and professional training opportunities for thousands of people in Durban, a city on the east coast of South Africa. This article focuses on one important aspect of the hospital’s longevity and particular character, or ‘organisational culture’: the ethos of a ‘McCord Family’, integral to which were faith and a commitment to service. While recognising that families – including ‘hospital families’ like that at McCord – are contentious social constructs, with deeply embedded hierarchies and inequalities based on race, class and gender, we also consider however how the notion of ‘a McCord family’ was experienced and shared in complex ways. Indeed, during the twentieth century, this ethos was avidly promoted by the hospital’s founders and managers and by a wide variety of employees and trainees. It also extended to people at a far geographical remove from Durban. Moreover, this ethos became so powerful that many patients felt that it shaped their convalescence experience positively. This article considers how this ‘family ethos’ was constructed and what made it so attractive to this hospital’s staff, trainees and patients. Furthermore, we consider what ‘work’ it did for this mission hospital, especially in promoting bonds of multi-racial unity in the contexts of segregation and apartheid society. More broadly, it suggests that critical histories of the ways in which individuals, hospitals, faith and ‘families’ intersect may be of value for the future of hospitals as well as of interest in their past.