A Lesson in Hubris
The original sin is not knowledge but hubris. Knowledge is to know the limits of one’s own mortal shell but hubris is to play god. To play god is to create in one’s image.
This creation is the specialty of the white-coat. The mother may birth children but the white-coat creates them. His creation is not what mother birthed; nature is overwritten with science. His creation is forced to bear his hubris, his role as modern day Frankenstein. The white-coat’s monsters are crafted without the scarlines that made Frankenstein’s monster so physically repulsive. It is not physical disgust that leads to the rejection of our modern monsters, but mental: bodies that there is seemingly nothing wrong with, and yet, everyone can tell from the gawkish awkwardness, that pervasive sense of offness, wrongness, unease, that fundamental defect.
Frankenstein – the ‘mad scientist’ – is the archetype of hubris, the fanatic with a plan that inevitably results in his demise. But the real peddlers of hubris are those seen as sober, sane, even boring. Those who dabble in jabs, in a standard establishment lab. Those who play dogsbody for Pharma, with pipettes and Petri dishes and cells from god-knows-where. Who go home to their spouse and children. Sit at the table. Watch the news, read the papers, go to the gym. Who would not be perceived as fanatical, extreme, or mad in any way. And yet who are the backbone of the utter, utter madness of vaccination.
No Frankenstein could create something so freakish as needlecraft.
Image credit: Photo by Chokniti Khongchum on Pexels.com