One of the scariest moments in a horror movie is when
the baby-sitter gets the phone call telling her, “He’s in the house with you!” And
“he” of course, is the bad guy or the monster.
On Halloween we have lots of horror
stories to entertain us, and one of the great classics is Frankenstein,
by Mary Shelley. A best seller in 1818, and rarely out of print since, Frankenstein
may be the most beautifully written scary book. A gripping story, the novel is
packed with social and philosophical issues that will surprise those who only
know the movie version of the story.
What makes Shelley’s novel a relevant
work for today are the questions that she raised so eloquently: What does it
mean to be human? Where will science lead us? And, “How do we discern morality
in technology?”
These questions are as perplexing now as they were at the dawn of the scientific era. The issue of technology’s intrusion into life --and death --is at the heart of today’s news. We continue to learn about new ways to overcome disability, advance fertility, control disease and delay death, but at what costs and to what limits?
These questions are as perplexing now as they were at the dawn of the scientific era. The issue of technology’s intrusion into life --and death --is at the heart of today’s news. We continue to learn about new ways to overcome disability, advance fertility, control disease and delay death, but at what costs and to what limits?
It could help us to closely
read Shelley’s novel and take up her questions for today.
When we hear the name, “Frankenstein”
most people think of the rivet-headed monster immortalized by Boris Karloff in
the old movie. We picture the lumbering creature that was assembled from body
parts, and this common misidentification shows just how easily we tend to blame
the victim and overlook the bad guy.
In Shelley’s novel the large,
disfigured man is simply named “The Creature”.
Frankenstein was not that sad
man, the product of then-modern medicine, but rather his creator, the scientist,
Dr. Victor Frankenstein.
Mary Shelley showed us that
the tragedy of Frankenstein, and what led to the tragic consequences, was scientific
experimentation done in isolation. Her brilliant young scientist had no
association with his peers, no interactions outside his laboratory, and no ethical
or moral constraints to balance his work.
Does that seem an accusation
of our times? Dr. Frankenstein confesses his own dilemma: “In the year I
created the Creature I had no intimacy, had not read a book, had a meal with
friends, heard a concert or been to church.”
Maybe that seems a heavy admonition
against workaholism, but how much do competition, secrecy and speed to market
drive this same isolation in science today?
The original story makes the
point that scientific experimentation of itself is not wrong; the trouble lies
in its separation from social discourse.
Shelley’s point is subtle but
important: Dr. Frankenstein is a tragic figure not for experimenting but for
neglecting to take responsibility for the impact of his work. The issue is not
to prevent creativity but to take responsibility –collectively and
individually--for the social and human cost of each new technology.
Frankenstein is the perfect myth for us right now. It’s about
scientific inquiry outside of community dialogue. Think about Syria’s poison
gas, our drones, fracking, “killer robots” and our detached way of dealing with
death.
It’s so easy to point a
finger at science but we find ourselves, as consumers and patients, demanding
better healthcare and cures for the diseases that killed our ancestors. Every
day we read about medical breakthroughs--new technologies for cancer, heart
disease, fertility. How do we draw the line?
Many of us hope we’ll get to
benefit from some of those lifesaving advances, and we may even hope that advanced
military technology might shorten war by intimidating our enemies.
We don’t want scientific
progress to stop. But we, not just scientists, have to ask Shelley’s questions:
What is the value of human life? What is the consequence of saving one? Or of
making one? But we have to consider the
unintended consequences and ask, “Who’s the monster now?”
Our tendency is to point a finger and say, “It’s them…”
and “It’s their fault…” But our lesson
comes from Shelly’s classic story and the scary movies: He’s in the house with us.
