Anthrax: From Bacteria to Bioterrorism

By Asha Martin

Edited by G. Johnston

Anthrax may sound like something from a history book, but it’s still a real concern today. This article explores how Bacillus anthracis (anthrax) emerged, how it affects the human body, and why it remains a concern. Even more importantly, it looks at what an anthrax incident would mean for Baltimore and the surrounding Mid-Atlantic region. By understanding its origins, its impact, and its potential to spread, we can see why anthrax still matters in conversations about public health, emergency preparedness, and community safety.

Anthrax didn’t suddenly appear in modern times—it has been with us for thousands of years. The earliest records trace it back to ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia, and historians believe it also affected people in Greece and Rome. But anthrax didn’t become widely understood until the 1700s, when physicians finally documented its symptoms and connection to livestock. In the 1800s, it became known as “wool-sorters’ disease” because people who handled animal hair kept getting sick. That’s when scientist Robert Koch identified the rod-shaped bacteria behind anthrax as a spore-forming bacterium found in soil that can infect both animals and people. He established the scientific rules (now called Koch’s postulates) that helped explain how germs spread. Over time, anthrax moved from being a natural infection to a weapon.

During World War I, Germany used it to infect American livestock traveling from US ports to help in the war against Germany being waged by England, France, and Russia. The Port of Baltimore played a prominent role in that scheme. A significant direct connection between anthrax and the Port of Baltimore emerged during World War I, when German agents operated a biological sabotage campaign targeting Allied animal shipments from U.S. ports, including Baltimore. The US, neutral at the time, was a major supplier of horses and mules to Britain and France, exporting over 750,000 animals during the war.

A shipment of horses at a New York City rail yard, 1918. (US National Archives 165-WW-280A-050)

German espionage groups, based in Baltimore and using offices of the North German Lloyd steamship line as a front, collected cultures of anthrax and glanders (a related bacterial disease) from a secret lab run by a German sympathizer in Chevy Chase, Maryland. German agents picked up the cultures weekly and delivered them to East Coast ports, including Baltimore, where hired stevedores secretly injected animals or contaminated their feed and water in holding corrals. This operation, funded by German agents in Baltimore, aimed to disrupt Allied logistics by killing thousands of animals en route to Europe. While effective in causing losses, it did not halt overall shipments, and local police vigilance limited its scale. The campaign ended around 1916 amid fears of detection following other sabotage acts.

A vaccine for animals came in the 1930s, but anthrax didn’t fully enter the public spotlight of the 21st century until the 2001 U.S. postal attacks. Letters laced with anthrax spores were sent to government offices and news organizations, killing five people and infecting seventeen others. These events, which affected multiple Mid-Atlantic states, showed just how easily anthrax can travel through everyday systems and how quickly it can cause fear across an entire nation.

Anthrax spores can survive in the environment for decades and can be turned into a fine powder that’s invisible to the eye. These features made them ideal for attacks that caused nationwide fear, costly cleanups, and massive disruptions to government operations. Although Baltimore never received contaminated letters directly, the region still felt the impact of the threat. Several Mid-Atlantic postal centers, including those in Maryland, tested positive for cross-contamination. One postal inspector, William R. Paliscak Jr., became seriously ill after exposure in Washington, D.C., and was treated at Sinai Hospital in Baltimore. His case showed just how hard anthrax can be to detect and how easily spores can travel across state lines through everyday systems like mail sorting.

Inhalation anthrax happens when people breathe in spores. (CDC)

During the 2001 attacks, several Mid-Atlantic states, including Maryland, New Jersey, Delaware, and Pennsylvania, had to scramble as mail facilities tested positive for spores. Hundreds of workers needed medical evaluations and antibiotics, and mail centers temporarily shut down to prevent further exposure. Even though many suspected illnesses turned out not to be anthrax, the overwhelming number of false alarms showed how quickly fear can spread and how hard it is for hospitals and public health departments to keep up. The events proved that anthrax doesn’t need to start in Baltimore to affect Baltimore—the Mid-Atlantic is so interconnected that contamination anywhere in the region can quickly reach the city through mail, transportation routes, or emergency responses.

Today, anthrax still appears in many parts of the world, especially rural regions where people depend on livestock and lack strong vaccination programs. Although cases are rare in wealthier countries, the World Health Organization estimates that thousands of infections occur each year, mostly in places where spores linger in the soil and animals graze.

Recent outbreaks in Zambia, South Sudan, Nigeria, Kazakhstan, and Thailand show how quickly anthrax can return after years of quiet. Even in Europe and North America, isolated cases still pop up—like those in Wyoming and Texas—when livestock encounter contaminated ground. After the 2001 attacks, the Mid-Atlantic saw hundreds of suspected cases, most of them false alarms, revealing how fear alone can overwhelm hospitals and public health systems. These global patterns make one thing clear: anthrax is not a disease of the past. It continues to move between animals and people in areas with limited resources, and it could still impact major cities like Baltimore if introduced through trade, travel, or contaminated goods.