Would you save the monkey
Working at my new job for the past 3 weeks, I took a little break from blogging. Not because I wanted to, but because life was so busy, I simply could not find the time to sit down and write. I've been deep diving into the whole medicine development process, which I am sure was created to baffle even the most structured and insightful working man. The obvious solution was to lend a very big, official-looking book and try to understand a single word of it. I’m currently on the introduction page and have deciphered the date of publication. Another productive day.
I was also able to move my mother into her assistant house with the help of two friends, but mostly by myself. A little weight was lifted off my shoulders, one that has been dragging me down without me really noticing. It's strange how certain things crawl under your skin and can influence your day-to-day life even when you’re not directly confronted by them. Sometimes it feels like a little voluntary poisoning session, where you afterwards must find your own remedies to expel any residue.
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ
While walking back from the lunch hall to the bureau, one of my colleagues told me they still keep rats and other small animals—to test the medicines on—at the location where I reside. They used to keep larger animals there, like beagles and monkeys, but in the past decade(s), this has become a controversial topic.
It made me think of an article where the author pondered the philosophical question, “Until when is something itself, and until what point is it worth saving?" He explained the thought process of removing a wooden board from a boat. It would still be a boat, with a hole now, of course, but it would still be the same boat to you.
Now remove another one, and then another. At what point would it stop being a boat to you, and at what point would you stop trying to repair it to its original form? Or maybe I should rephrase that last part; until what point would it be worth saving to you?
The author explained that in our day-to-day lives, we meet a lot of objects, but also plants and animals that undergo the same scrutiny. Our brains have a habit of objectifying and flattening things to what they mean to us and what they are ‘worth’ to us. This worth is relative, of course, and differs between people. Generally speaking, it is all as worthy and as unworthy, since worth seems like something humans have invented to describe a human interpretation, not a ‘definitive fact’.
As I was watching the building he pointed at, I realized that those animals to me were flattened to their worth to science, a sacrifice made not by their own volition. Then I became sad. There is not really a final conclusion to this thought process, and I know I cannot save any of those trapped there. And if I did, could I handle the fact that I might have disrupted an essential part of the development of medicine that might have saved someone’s mother who has cancer?
The last thing I thought about was a quote I wrote down that I picked up somewhere:
"Cruelty is not measured by the ability of the injured to experience pain, but by the person performing the act."
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ
Thoughtful greetings
Rat