Читать книгу An Ethical Problem - Albert 1845-1916 Leffingwell - Страница 7

Every reflecting student of history is struck by the divergence of opinions manifest among educated men in regard to the great problems of life. Why is it that so few of us are able to state the facts and arguments which favour conclusions to which we are utterly opposed? Take, for instance, the great question of religious belief. Can one refer to any Protestant writer of our time who has placed before his readers the arguments which inclined men like Newman or Manning to the Catholic faith? Has any Catholic writer of our time been able to present fairly the arguments which seem so overwhelmingly convincing to Protestant thinkers? In either case, is there not something of distortion or exaggeration? Certainly it cannot be due to intentional and perverse obliquity of mental vision. As a rule reasonable men endeavour to be just and fair. Now and then, in the heat of controversy, a tendency to overstatement or exaggeration may be evident, especially where great issues appear to be involved; but the purpose can be reconciled with honesty. Is it not more than probable that the principal reason for divergent views on the part of honest opponents is IGNORANCE OF FACTS?

Take, for example, the opinion held to-day by the great majority of young physicians concerning animal experimentation. As a rule they regard all criticism of vivisection with infinite contempt. During their medical studies they were continually imbued with the idea that the opposition to laboratory freedom of experimentation was an agitation of comparatively recent date, and confined to a small class of unthinking sentimentalists. Of that strong protest against cruel experiments which made itself heard more during more than a century, and of the atrocities which led to that protest, the average physician of to-day knows nothing whatever. Plunged into the practice of a profession which may absorb every moment of time, he has perhaps neither leisure to investigate nor disposition to doubt whatever he has been told.

Now, if the average student of medicine is thus ignorant of history, is it not because those who have taught him were equally devoid of knowledge of the facts? Of the history of the vivisection controversy previous to 1875, some of the most distinguished men in the medical profession have proved themselves profoundly ignorant. Illustrations of this lack of information might be almost indefinitely adduced, but I propose to bring forward only a few instances typical of their kind.

On June 10, 1896, Dr. Henry P. Bowditch, then professor of physiology in Harvard Medical School, delivered an address on vivisection before the Massachusetts Medical Society. The character of his audience, and the profession of the speaker, might be presumed to give assurance of absolute accuracy concerning any question of historic fact. A quarter century before, Dr. Bowditch had studied physiology in German laboratories Returning to America in 1871, he had been given the opportunity of reorganizing the teaching of physiology at Harvard Medical School, so as to bring it into conformity with Continental methods. It is quite probable that to him, more than to any other person, is due the introduction of Continental methods of physiological instruction in the medical colleges of the United States.

According to Dr. Bowditch, the criticism of vivisection in England began in 1864. To his audience of physicians he made the following statement:

"The first serious attack upon biological research in England seems to have been made in an essay entitled `Vivisection: is it Necessary or Justifiable?' published in London in 1864, by George Fleming, a British veterinary surgeon. This essay is an important one, for although characterized at the time by a reviewer in the London Athenaeum as `ignorant, fallacious, and altogether unworthy of acceptance,' its blood-curdling stories, applied to all sorts of institutions, have formed a large part of the stock-in-trade of subsequent vivisection writers."

The sneering reference to "blood-curdling stories" is of itself extremely significant. It indicates unmistakably the utter contempt which nearly every physiologist feels for the sentiment of humaneness which underlies protest against experimental cruelty. The speaker omitted to tell his audience that this essay of Dr. Fleming received the first prize offered by the "Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals," and that the Committee which decided the merits of the essay included some of the most eminent scientific men of England, among them Sir Richard Owen and Professor Carpenter—the latter one of the most distinguished of English physiologists of his time. He forgot to add that if the examples of atrocious vivisection given in this essay were horrible—as they were—yet every instance was substantiated by reference to the original authorities, and that their accurate quotation could not be impugned. Especially curious is the fact that Professor Bowditch placed the beginning of criticism at 1864. Of the arraignment of cruel vivisections by English physicians and English medical journals before that time, Dr. Bowditch apparently never heard, and all the infamous atrocities which they condemned he dismissed with a sneer as "blood-curdling stories." Yet, in his day, the speaker was one of the leading physiologists of the United States. We cannot believe that the suppression of material facts was intentional; it was due rather to complete ignorance of the history of that protest against physiological cruelty which England witnessed during the first part of the nineteenth century, and of which some account shall follow.

Take another instance. In the International Journal of Ethics for April, 1904, there appeared an article in defence of animal experimentation by Professor Charles S. Myers of the University of Cambridge, England. Of any abuses of the practice, Dr. Myers gave his readers no reason for believing that he had ever heard; and as an indication, perhaps, of an animal's eagerness to be vivisected, he tells us that "again and again dogs have been observed to wag the tail and lick the hands of the operator even immediately before the beginning of the operation." Commenting upon the singular conclusion which this fact seemed to suggest to Dr. Myers, the present writer quoted a sentence or two from an editorial which once appeared in the columns of the London Lancet.[1] It would apparently seem that Dr. Myers brought the quotation to the attention of someone in the editorial office of the Lancet, on whose judgment he thought he might safely rely; for, in a reply, he refers to it as a quotation "attributed to the editor of the Lancet, which, AFTER SPECIAL INQUIRY, I HAVE REASON FOR DOUBTING." Concerning a reference to some of Dr. Sydney Ringer's experiments upon patients in a London hospital, he is even more confident that they could never have occurred, and indignantly rejoins, "I unhesitatingly declare SUCH ABOMINABLE ACCUSATIONS TO BE FALSE."

[1] See p. 73 for this Lancet editorial.

Now, all this indignant scepticism was rather creditable to the writer's heart. That an English medical journal like the Lancet should denounce vivisection cruelties, or that a reputable London physician should experiment on his patients with various poisons, seemed to Dr. Myers beyond the bounds of belief. But it is always a serious thing positively to deny any historical reference simply because of personal ignorance of its truth. It was quite easy to refer the sceptic not only to the editorial which he thought he "HAD REASON FOR DOUBTING," but also to the experiments on human beings concerning which his indignation rose so high. To be ignorant of Dr. Ringer's experiments on his patients is to be ignorant of the history of modern medicine. The Medical Times (London) in its issue of November 10, 1883, thus editorially commented upon certain of these experiments:

" … In publishing, and, indeed, in instituting their reckless experiments on the effect of nitrite of sodium on the human subject, Professor Ringer and Dr. Murrill have made a deplorably false move. … It is impossible to read the paper in last week's Lancet without distress. Of the EIGHTEEN adults to whom Drs. Ringer and Murrill administered the drug in 10-grain doses, all but one averred that they would expect to drop down dead if they ever took another dose. … Whatever credit may be given to Drs. Ringer and Murrill for scientific enthusiasm, it is impossible to acquit them of grave indiscretion. There will be a howl throughout the country IF IT COMES OUT THAT THE OFFICERS OF A PUBLIC CHARITY ARE IN THE HABIT OF TRYING SUCH USELESS AND CRUEL EXPERIMENTS ON THE PATIENTS COMMITTED TO THEIR CARE."[1]

[1] In all quotations, here and elsewhere throughout this volume, the italics have been supplied.

What but ignorance of the history of medicine during the last fifty years could lead any one to deny the occurrence of experiments, the proofs of which rest on statements in medical journals, and in the published works of the experimenters themselves?

One of the most singular statements concerning vivisection that ever appeared in print was given out not many years ago by one of the professors of physiology in Harvard Medical School.[2] The accuracy of this manifesto—which purported to be "a plain statement of the whole truth"—received the endorsement of five of the leading teachers of science in the same institution, men whose scientific reputation would naturally give great weight to their affirmations regarding any question of fact. So impressed was the editor of the Boston Transcript with the apparent weight of this testimony, that he declared in its columns that "the character and standing of the men whose names are given as responsible for this explanation to the Boston public, FORBID ANY QUESTIONING OF ITS STATEMENT OF FACTS." What is the value of authority in matters of science, if assertions so fortified by illustrious names are to be received with doubt?

[2] See "The Vivisection Question," pp. 114–133 and 253.

The inaccuracy which characterized this "statement of the whole truth" was demonstrated at the time it appeared; but to one paragraph attention may be recalled. The manifesto touches the question of past cruelties in animal experimentation, not merely without the slightest criticism or condemnation, but, on the contrary, with what would seem to be a definite denial that anything reprehensible had ever occurred. It contemptuously referred to evidence of abuses, as "these reiterated charges of cruelty, THESE LONG LISTS OF ATROCITIES THAT NEVER EXISTED." What other meaning could the average reader obtain than the suggestion that the cruelties of Spallanzani, of Magendie, of Mantegazza, of Brown-Se'quard, of Brachet, and a host of others, existed only in the imagination, AND HAD NO BASIS OF FACT? For this astounding suggestion, what explanation is possible? That there was a deliberate purpose to mislead the public by an affirmation that cruel and unjustifiable experiments were a myth, the creation of imagination, is an hypothesis we must reject. But there must have been a stupendous ignorance concerning the past history of animal experimentation. Simply because of their utter lack of knowledge regarding history, distinguished scientists became responsible for suggesting to the public that the story of the past cruelty of vivisection was a myth, and unworthy of belief.

While illustrations of this singular ignorance of the past might be almost indefinitely multiplied, another example must for the present suffice. It is afforded by the evidence given before the Royal Commission of Vivisection in 1906, by Sir William Osler, M.D., Fellow of the Royal Society, and Regius Professor of Medicine at the University of Oxford. In the course of his examination, the following dialogue occurred:[1]

"Are you familiar with the writings of Dr. Leffingwell?"

"Yes."

"I think he points out that it was through the strong attacks that

appeared in the Lancet and the British Medical Journal that the

Vivisection Act was passed?"

"THAT IS NEWS TO ME."

"You do not know that?"

"NO."

[1] Minutes of Evidence, Questions 16,780–16,782.

Perhaps the question asked may have implied somewhat more of influence on the part of the medical journals named than actually belonged to them; but these periodicals certainly initiated that exposure and condemnation of cruelty in vivisection—which in England led to an agitation for reform. Sir William Osler's replies, however, suggest something more than mere word-fencing; he was evidently surprised to hear it intimated that medical journals like these could ever have been found attacking vivisection in any way. Of the strong attacks which appeared in these organs of medical opinion less than forty years before, he had apparently never heard. Now, when men like these, leaders in the formation of public opinion on medical matters, are thus ignorant of history, ought one really to wonder at the lack of knowledge on the same subject betrayed by the new generation of physicians in active practice to-day—men not only of lesser influence, but of more restricted opportunities for gaining information? Ninety-nine out of every hundred of the physicians engaged in medical instruction in England and America probably would have replied to the questions asked Sir William Osler to the same effect—"It is news to me." Sitting at their feet, how can pupils be expected to do otherwise than to absorb both their prejudices and their learning? How can any medical student distinguish between them? We are all inclined to give implicit faith to men whose abilities in any direction we admire and reverence. It is only with the advance of years and the test of experience that men come to learn the distrust of authority, the wisdom of doubt, and the value of personal inquiry concerning every great problem of life.

Suppose, then, that we look into this question. Was Professor Bowditch correct in assigning the beginnings of criticism concerning vivisection to Dr. Fleming's essay published in 1864? Or was its origin long before? Were the professors of the Medical School accurate of statement when they practically denied that cruelty in vivisection was a historic fact, and endorsed a reference to authenticated instances as "long lists of atrocities THAT NEVER OCCURRED"? Is it a fact—although Dr. Myers of Cambridge and Sir William Osler of Oxford apparently never heard of it—that it was the MEDICAL journals of England whose indignant condemnation of vivisection cruelties led up to its attempted regulation by law? The public assumes that authorities like these are not likely to err concerning methods of medical instruction or research. In the mind of the average man, every prepossession is in their favour; he cannot easily bring himself to believe that if cruelty ever existed, THEY should be so completely ignorant of it. It may, indeed, be questioned whether in the literature of controversy on the subject there has been a single defender of unrestricted freedom in vivisection, who has intelligently referred to the horrible experiments of past vivisectors except either to sneer or to condone. Even Mr. Stephen Paget, in his recent work, "Experiments upon Animals," never once condemned the cruelty that but a generation ago excited indignation throughout the medical profession of Great Britain.

The truth of this matter is not to be attained by unquestioning acceptance of authority, but by a study of the history of the past. It would be impossible, except in a volume, to write a complete history of that protest against the unjustifiable cruelties of animal experimentation, which gradually led to a demand for their legal suppression. All that may here be attempted is a demonstration that the sentiment is not of recent origin; that more than a century ago the cruelties, which to-day are so carefully ignored, were unquestioned as facts, and that to medical journals of England is principally due that weighty condemnation of cruel vivisection, which probably more than any other influence was the foundation of the agitation for vivisection reform.