The Return of Medieval Health Beliefs in Modern Times

In 12th-century Italy, scholars at a medical institution in Salerno captured the concept of “plethora,” which refers to an excess of blood disrupting the body’s fluid balance. They described it poetically: “Plethora’s face is of a florid shade, Her eyeballs large and very glaring made; While cheeks and form with mass are overlaid.” It’s interesting, right?

Fast forward to August 2025. The US Secretary of Health and Human Services, Robert F. Kennedy Jr., remarked on children he observed while walking through airports, claiming they appeared “overburdened with mitochondrial challenges, inflammation… you can tell it from their faces, from their body movement, and from their lack of social connection.” It makes you think about how much we notice in our environments—sometimes, it can be alarming.

The past century has produced remarkable advances in medicine and technology. We’ve conquered once-fatal diseases, explored the depths of the human body, and even sent humans beyond the earth. Yet, looking at the 21st century, one might argue that we’re regressing to an almost medieval mindset, experimenting with wellness theories that sound eerily similar to those from ancient times—think bloodletting and other extreme methods.

Now, trends have emerged that might surprise some: a “body transformation” spell advertised on Etsy can lead to “rapid weight loss” for only $10, or a bit more for quicker results. Some “extreme beauty spells” are also available at bargain prices, with returns welcomed if outcomes aren’t satisfactory. Furthermore, gatherings like the Energy Healing Conference in places like Utah attract thousands eager for alternative healing practices, from breathwork to herbal remedies. Discussions on platforms like Reddit consider the best celestial moments for “elective surgery.” It’s a blend of skeptical and hopeful participants navigating their health journeys.

Much of this revival of ancient healing practices can be linked to a growing distrust in various institutions, particularly in light of the Covid-19 pandemic. According to Roy Perlis, a Harvard Medical School psychiatry professor, “Covid was… one of the first times that people actually saw how medical advances work—they saw the fits and starts, learning moments, and errors scientists made.” It’s rather fascinating, the effect a crisis can have on public perception.

The urgency and transparency of science during the pandemic created a gap in public trust that wellness influencers have been keen to exploit. “Everyone has questions about their health, and people have access to much more information. But so much of it isn’t correct,” Perlis pointed out, highlighting how misleading information can easily take root. It’s a bit concerning, honestly.

In today’s landscape, health advice from Facebook, TikTok, and even AI is widely sought. Millions follow YouTube figures like Florida chiropractor Eric Berg, who promotes unverified benefits of colloidal silver for addressing throat issues. Meanwhile, public figures like Donald Trump and RFK Jr. have spread various health misconceptions, particularly around vaccines, which has further muddied the waters of public health discourse.

Interestingly, the language surrounding health now includes references to “purging” and “toxins,” concepts that would resonate with those from medieval times. Meg Leja, a professor of medieval history, notes that today’s juice cleanses and detox protocols echo the way people a thousand years ago discussed health issues, albeit from a place of limited medical knowledge. It raises a question: are we truly further educated or just chasing echoes of the past?

While some argue that the similarities in wellness trends point to a regression, Leja cautions against making direct comparisons. What medieval societies embraced often had some grounding in their understanding of the body, while current practices may not necessarily align with established medical knowledge today.

I mean, take urine analysis as an example. In the Middle Ages, such examinations were commonplace, despite their limited utility at the time. We now recognize urine as a critical health indicator due to advancements made in the 19th century. It’s interesting.*

There is also the enduring Miasma theory, which attributed illness to “bad air” from decaying matter—something that, in hindsight, aligns with certain truths about contamination and health outcomes. Yet, as we witness a resurgence of medieval-like beliefs, contradictions appear: while some notions have basis, others—like concerns about 5G towers causing illness—remain unsubstantiated.

As we delve deeper into this shift, it seems we might be stepping away from established scientific understanding, much like how medieval medicine once wavered between myth and observation. “Doctors took on political and religious significance in the Middle Ages,” Leja described, suggesting a shift is occurring once again today where observable truths seem overlooked in favor of gut instincts or narratives that may lack evidence.

Ultimately, the quest for clarity about our health isn’t new but reflects a complex interplay of knowledge and belief that’s shaped human history. People continually seek answers amid uncertainties, and as the lines between past and present blur, it’s clear we have much to consider in our health journeys.