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TIME THE FUTURE OF MEDICINE Cursed by Eugenics A belief that human intelligence could guide evolution led the world to concentration camps. BY PAUL GRAY
At a time when science promises such dazzling
advances in the practice of medicine, it may be
prudent to cast a glance over the shoulder, back
to an earlier era when scientists--or people who
thought they were doing science--stirred hopes
that better days were only a generation or so
away. The rise and fall of the theory known as
eugenics is in every respect a cautionary tale.
The early eugenicists were usually well-meaning
and progressive types. They had imbibed their
Darwin and decided that the process of natural
selection would improve if it were guided by
human intelligence. They did not know they were
shaping a rationale for atrocities.
The man who in 1883 coined the term eugenics,
from a Greek stem meaning "good in birth," was
a cousin of Charles Darwin's. Englishman
Francis Galton (1822-1911) had a substantial
inheritance and a Victorian range of scientific
curiosity. He dabbled in a number of fields,
including geographical exploration, but his
passion was mathematics, particularly the infant
field of statistics.
In Britain and the U.S., the great age of
quantification had begun. An unforeseen
consequence of industrialized democracy had
been the mammoth increase in the measurement
and survey of all sorts of things. Galton relished
this new flood of data--"Whenever you can,
count" was his motto--and eventually became
absorbed in studying the mathematical
distribution of what he called "natural ability"
among a sample of British subjects. Galton
thought natural ability could be tracked down by
reading the biographical sketches of eminent
Britons in handbooks and dictionaries. When he
did so, he discovered that a disproportionate
number of these worthies were in some way
related to one another. Ergo, he concluded,
intelligence and talent were bestowed by
heredity. "Could not," he wondered, "the
undesirables be got rid of and the desirables
multiplied?"
In fairness to Galton, he came to see the
encouragement of "good" marriages as a better
way to his eugenic heaven than discouraging or
preventing "bad" ones. But the seed of a very
dangerous notion had nevertheless been sown.
Interest in eugenics grew with the rediscovery
and wide dissemination of an obscure Austrian
monk's experiments in breeding peas. Gregor
Mendel's discovery of genetically transmitted
dominant and recessive traits seemed to many
the key that would unlock the mysteries of
human heredity. In the U.S., biologist Charles
Davenport (1866-1944) established, with the help
of a $10 million endowment from the Carnegie
Institution, a center for research in human
evolution at Cold Spring Harbor, N.Y. A strict
Mendelian, Davenport believed so-called
single-unit genes determined such traits as
alcoholism and feeblemindedness. The way to
eradicate such failings in the human stock, he
argued, was to prevent their carriers from
reproducing. He voiced the hope that "human
matings could be placed upon the same high
plane as that of horse breeding." He declared
that prostitution was not caused by poverty but
by an "innate eroticism." He advocated eugenic
castrations.
In his In the Name of Eugenics (1985), an
invaluable source for everyone interested in this
strange movement, historian Daniel J. Kevles
notes, somewhat dryly, that "eugenicists
identified human worth with the qualities they
presumed themselves to possess--the sort that
facilitated passage through schools, universities
and professional training." Kevles' insight helps
explain the almost messianic fervor that
eugenicists on both sides of the Atlantic
displayed during the early years of this century.
These were people who felt themselves and the
future of their children threatened. In Britain
members of the upper middle class feared they
would be swamped and taxed to extinction by
the profligate overbreeding of the lower orders. In
the U.S., members of the Wasp ascendancy
looked with dismay at the flood of immigrants
from Southern and Eastern Europe. Italians!
Poles! What was the country coming to?
Much of this public fervor looks comically ill
informed in hindsight. In the U.S. and Britain,
fairs and exhibitions regularly featured exhibits
illustrating Mendelian laws of inheritance, often in
the form of black-and-white guinea pigs stuffed
and mounted to demonstrate the heritability of fur
color. Kevles quotes from a chart accompanying
such a display: "Unfit human traits such as
feeblemindedness, epilepsy, criminality, insanity,
alcoholism, pauperism and many others run in
families and are inherited in exactly the same
way as color in guinea pigs."
Less amusing is the number of intellectuals,
businessmen and political leaders who gave
eugenics their blessing or fervid support. The list
begins with Darwin, who in The Descent of Man
praised his cousin Galton and decreed that
genius "tends to be inherited." Other champions
included the young Winston Churchill, George
Bernard Shaw, Alexander Graham Bell, John
Maynard Keynes, Theodore Roosevelt and the
usually taciturn Calvin Coolidge, who declared
during his vice presidency that "Nordics
deteriorate when mixed with other races."
Eugenics was not just gassy theories. Impressed
by the pseudo science, many U.S. states
enacted laws requiring the sterilization of those
held in custody who were deemed to suffer from
hereditary defects. In 1927 the U.S. Supreme
Court heard an appeal of Virginia's decision in
Buck v. Bell to sterilize Carrie Buck, an
institutionalized 17-year-old whom the state had
decreed a "moral imbecile," the daughter of a
"feebleminded" mother and the mother herself of
a daughter who was found to be, at age seven
months, subnormal in intelligence. The court, by
an 8-to-1 vote, rejected Buck's appeal. In his
majority opinion, Oliver Wendell Holmes wrote,
"The principle that sustains compulsory
vaccination is broad enough to cover cutting the
Fallopian tubes," and concluded, "Three
generations of imbeciles are enough."
Nowhere, of course, were eugenic theories more
enthusiastically codified into binding state
doctrine than in Nazi Germany. In 1933 Adolf
Hitler's government adopted the Eugenic
Sterilization Law. Formulated by the Reich
Ministry of the Interior, this edict ordered the
compulsory sterilization of all German
citizens--not simply those in custody or
institutions--who displayed symptoms of a
number of presumptively hereditary afflictions,
including blindness, schizophrenia and offensive
physical deformities. Government officials
countered potential objections about the cruelty
of this measure by asserting that personal
sacrifices would serve the common weal. "We go
beyond neighborly love," said one. "We extend it
to future generations. Therein lies the high ethical
value and justification of the law." As Kevles
notes, the Nazis' draconian eugenics program did
not originally encompass the anti-Semitism that
later so rabidly characterized the Third Reich.
But as Hitler and his regime turned ever more
fiercely against the Jews, the sterilization of
"undesirables" escalated into genocide, a
horrifying realization of Francis Galton's vision of
the world biologically cleansed according to one
group's idea of human improvement.
Eugenics never recovered from the news of what
had been carried out under its banner in Hitler's
Germany. In truth, a number of people--including
G.K. Chesterton, H.L. Mencken, Walter
Lippmann and Clarence Darrow--had ridiculed
and debunked eugenic theories well before the
horrors of the Holocaust occurred and became
widely known.
And the flaws, so obvious to us now, in the
eugenicists' thinking--starting but by no means
ending with their assumption of the immutable
heritability of character and the attribution of
complex human traits to simple Mendelian
genes--did spur, among scientists who
recognized the errors, valuable research in the
actual science of human genetics. They were
wrong, with unintended consequences for
millions of people. But the legacy of the
eugenicists may be instructive. The next time
you hear someone promoting the scientific
improvement of the human race, think of them.
© 1999 TIME Magazine
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