If it was a virus, that gives me a little bit of comfort
For decades, millions living with multiple sclerosis have carried an unanswered question alongside their diagnosis — why them, why this, why now. A sweeping Harvard study, drawing on blood samples from over ten million U.S. military personnel, has moved science closer to an answer: the Epstein-Barr virus, a near-universal human companion, appears to be a causal trigger for MS in those genetically or environmentally predisposed. The finding does not yet offer a cure, but it offers something the afflicted have long been denied — a reason that lives outside the realm of personal fault.
- Of 801 military personnel who developed MS, 800 had prior Epstein-Barr infection — a near-perfect correlation that shifts EBV from suspect to likely cause.
- The discovery creates a new tension: if 90% of humans carry EBV but only a fraction develop MS, the virus is a trigger, not a sentence — and the missing variables remain unknown.
- For patients like Allison Markin, who has managed MS since 2003 through daily bodily inventory and constant negotiation with her own symptoms, the study's greatest immediate gift is not a treatment but an absolution from self-blame.
- Medical experts caution that the findings will not change clinical care overnight — translating this causal link into vaccines or therapies is a process measured in years, possibly many.
- Early EBV vaccine research, including a Moderna trial, is already underway, and this study may accelerate funding and urgency around MS prevention for future generations.
Every morning since 2003, Allison Markin has taken inventory of her body — vision, sensation, steadiness — before deciding what the day will allow. Multiple sclerosis has become, in her words, a part-time job. For nearly two decades, one question shadowed the work: why did this happen to her?
A Harvard study published in January 2022 may finally offer an answer. Researchers analyzed blood samples collected from more than ten million U.S. military personnel between 1993 and 2013, tracking those who developed MS against those who did not. The result was striking: 800 of 801 MS patients showed prior infection with the Epstein-Barr virus. No other pathogen produced a comparable pattern. The study's scale and duration moved what had long been a hypothesis into something closer to established science.
For Markin, who had contracted EBV a decade before her MS diagnosis, the finding brought an unexpected comfort. The years since her diagnosis had included quiet self-interrogation — the wrong food, the wrong choice, even a suggested link to a wisdom tooth extraction. Learning that a virus, something entirely beyond her control, was likely responsible reframed the story she had been telling herself. "If it was a virus and that's no fault of mine or anybody else's, that gives me a little bit of comfort," she said.
Dr. Jiwon Oh of St. Michael's Hospital in Toronto welcomed the research while noting its limits. EBV infects roughly ninety percent of humanity; MS affects far fewer. Genetics and environment must also play a role — the virus appears necessary but not sufficient, a trigger that fires only under particular conditions. The estimated ninety thousand Canadians living with MS, and millions more worldwide, gain from this study not a cure but a clearer map of the disease's origins.
Oh cautioned that clinical practice is unlikely to change in the near term. Good science and good therapeutics, she noted, take time — possibly many years. But the research may accelerate EBV vaccine development, including early work already begun by Moderna, and could generate new momentum for MS prevention research. Markin's hope is both large and immediate: that the next person to receive a diagnosis will get better answers, sooner, than she did.
For twenty years, Allison Markin has woken each morning and taken inventory of her body. Vision blurred or clear? Hands numb or responsive? Legs steady enough to walk? Multiple sclerosis, the disease that attacked her immune system in 2003, has become what she calls a part-time job—something she manages alongside her life rather than instead of it. But last week, researchers at Harvard University offered her something she'd been searching for since her diagnosis: an answer to the question that had haunted her for two decades. Why did this happen to me?
The Harvard study, published in January 2022, provides what may be the most compelling evidence yet that the Epstein-Barr virus—a common herpes virus that infects roughly nine in ten people at some point—plays a causal role in triggering multiple sclerosis in susceptible individuals. The research accessed blood samples stored from more than ten million U.S. military personnel collected between 1993 and 2013. Researchers tracked recruits who showed no prior EBV infection, then compared those who later developed MS with those who did not. The numbers were stark: of 801 patients who developed MS, only one had no evidence of previous Epstein-Barr infection. No other viral infection showed a similar pattern.
For Markin, who contracted Epstein-Barr a decade before her MS diagnosis, the finding brought what she describes as reassurance. When you receive a diagnosis of any serious illness, the mind immediately turns inward. Did I do something wrong? Did I eat the wrong thing? Did I hurt myself? When she was first diagnosed, a naturopath even suggested that nerve damage from a wisdom tooth extraction might have triggered the disease. The possibility that a virus—something beyond her control, beyond anyone's control—was responsible offered a different kind of comfort. "If it was a virus and that's no fault of mine or anybody else's, that gives me a little bit of comfort, quite frankly," she said.
Dr. Jiwon Oh, medical director of the Barlo Multiple Sclerosis Program at St. Michael's Hospital in Toronto, said the Harvard research resolves what had long been suspected but never definitively proven. "Because of the size of this study and how long that these people were followed over time, this has given us really strong evidence showing that there likely is a causal link," Oh explained. The connection between EBV and MS had circulated in medical literature for years, but this study—its scale, its duration, its methodology—moved the hypothesis into the realm of established science.
Yet the discovery also reveals the disease's complexity. Epstein-Barr infects nearly ninety percent of humanity. Multiple sclerosis affects roughly one in four hundred people. Something else must be at work. Genetics plays a role. Environmental factors likely do as well. The virus appears to be necessary but not sufficient—a trigger that fires only in certain people, under certain conditions. An estimated ninety thousand Canadians live with MS, and millions more worldwide. For them, the Harvard findings offer not an immediate cure but a clearer understanding of how the disease begins.
Markin's daily experience with MS involves constant negotiation with her own body. Vision problems, numbness in her hands, muscle weakness, difficulty walking—the symptoms shift from day to day, which is why she performs her morning systems check, assessing what she'll be capable of that day. She works with her healthcare team to find treatments that manage her symptoms better than the day before. She has learned to live with the disease rather than against it, to think of it as something she carries rather than something that defines her entirely.
The Harvard study probably won't change how doctors treat MS patients in the near term, Oh cautioned. But the research opens doors. It may accelerate the development of Epstein-Barr vaccines—work that has already begun, including a small study launched by Moderna. It may generate support for additional research into MS prevention and treatment. "Good science and good therapeutics take time," Oh said, possibly "many, many years." Markin finds the prospect of preventing MS in future generations exciting. But her hope is more immediate: that someone diagnosed with MS today, or tomorrow, or next year, will receive better answers than she did when she first learned she had the disease.
Citas Notables
It potentially answers the question that I've had for almost 20 years: Why did I get MS?— Allison Markin, living with MS for two decades
Because of the size of this study and how long that these people were followed over time, this has given us really strong evidence showing that there likely is a causal link.— Dr. Jiwon Oh, medical director of the Barlo Multiple Sclerosis Program
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why does it matter so much to Markin that the cause was a virus and not something she did?
Because diagnosis without explanation is a kind of ongoing wound. You're left blaming yourself, wondering what you missed, what you could have prevented. A virus removes that burden of self-blame. It's not about guilt anymore—it's just biology.
But the study shows that ninety percent of people get Epstein-Barr and don't develop MS. So why does knowing the virus is involved actually help her?
It reframes the question. Instead of "Why me?" it becomes "What combination of things in me made me vulnerable?" That's a question science can work on. It's the difference between mystery and puzzle.
The study is massive—ten million blood samples. Why did it take this long to prove something doctors suspected?
You need the right data collected over the right time period. You need people tracked before they got sick, not after. The military's stored blood samples gave researchers something most studies can't access: a window into the past, a way to see what came first.
If a vaccine for Epstein-Barr gets developed, could it prevent MS?
Theoretically, yes. But Oh was careful to say it could take many years. You'd need to vaccinate people before they're exposed to EBV, then follow them for decades to see if MS rates drop. That's not quick science.
What does Markin's "systems check" each morning tell us about living with MS?
It tells us the disease isn't a fixed thing—it's a variable. Some mornings her body cooperates more than others. She's learned to negotiate with that variability rather than fight it. That's not acceptance exactly. It's something closer to coexistence.
Does this research change anything for her right now?
Not her treatment. Not her symptoms. But it changes the story she tells herself about how she got here. That matters more than people usually admit.