Medical Nemesis
3
The Killing of Pain
When cosmopolitan medical civilization colonizes any traditional
culture, it transforms the experience of pain.1 The same nervous
stimulation that I shall call "pain sensation" will result in a
distinct experience, depending not only on personality but also on
culture. This experience, as distinct from the painful sensation,
implies a uniquely human performance called suffering.2 Medical
civilization, however, tends to turn pain into a technical matter and
thereby deprives suffering of its inherent personal meaning.3 People
unlearn the acceptance of suffering as an inevitable part of their
conscious coping with reality and learn to interpret every ache as an
indicator of their need for padding or pampering. Traditional cultures
confront pain, impairment, and death by interpreting them as challenges
soliciting a response from the individual under stress; medical
civilization turns them into demands made by individuals on the
economy, into problems that can be managed or produced out of
existence.4 Cultures are systems of meanings, cosmopolitan civilization
a system of techniques. Culture makes pain tolerable by integrating it
into a meaningful setting; cosmopolitan civilization detaches pain from
any subjective or intersubjective context in order to annihilate it.
Culture makes pain tolerable by interpreting its necessity; only pain
perceived as curable is intolerable.
A myriad
virtues express the different aspects of fortitude that traditionally
enabled people to recognize painful sensations as a challenge and to
shape their own experience accordingly. Patience, forbearance, courage,
resignation, self-control, perseverance, and meekness each express a
different coloring of the responses with which pain sensations were
accepted, transformed into the experience of suffering, and endured.5
Duty, love, fascination, routines, prayer, and compassion were some of
the means that enabled pain to be borne with dignity. Traditional
cultures made everyone responsible for his own performance under the
impact of bodily harm or grief.6 Pain was recognized as an inevitable
part of the subjective reality of one's own body in which everyone
constantly finds himself, and which is constantly being shaped by his
conscious reactions to it.7 People knew that they had to heal on their
own,8 to deal on their own with their migraine, their lameness, or
their grief.
The pain inflicted on individuals had
a limiting effect on the abuses of man by man. Exploiting minorities
sold liquor or preached religion to dull their victims, and slaves took
to the blues or to coca-chewing. But beyond a critical point of
exploitation, traditional economies which were built on the resources
of the human body had to break down. Any society in which the intensity
of discomforts and pains inflicted rendered them culturally
"insufferable" could not but come to an end.
Now an
increasing portion of all pain is man-made, a side-effect of strategies
for industrial expansion. Pain has ceased to be conceived as a
"natural" or "metaphysical" evil. It is a social curse, and to stop the
"masses" from cursing society when they are pain-stricken, the
industrial system delivers them medical pain-killers. Pain thus turns
into a demand for more drugs, hospitals, medical services, and other
outputs of corporate, impersonal care and into political support for
further corporate growth no matter what its human, social, or economic
cost. Pain has become a political issue which gives rise to a
snowballing demand on the part of anesthesia consumers for artificially
induced insensibility, unawareness, and even unconsciousness.
Traditional cultures and technological civilization start from opposite
assumptions. In every traditional culture the psychotherapy, belief
systems, and drugs needed to withstand most pain are built into
everyday behavior and reflect the conviction that reality is harsh and
death inevitable.9 In the twentieth century dystopia, the necessity to
bear painful reality, within or without, is interpreted as a failure of
the socio-economic system, and pain is treated as an emergent
contingency which must be dealt with by extraordinary interventions.
The experience of pain that results from pain messages received by the
brain depends in its quality and in its quantity on genetic endowment10
and on at least four functional factors other than the nature and
intensity of the stimulus: namely, culture, anxiety, attention, and
interpretation. All these are shaped by social determinants, ideology,
economic structure, and social character. Culture decrees whether the
mother or the father or both must groan when the child is born.11
Circumstances and habits determine the anxiety level of the sufferer
and the attention he gives to his bodily sensations.12 Training and
conviction determine the meaning given to bodily sensations and
influence the degree to which pain is experienced.13 Effective magic
relief is often better provided by popular superstition than by
high-class religion.14 The prospect which is opened by the painful
event determines how well it will be suffered: injuries received near
the climax of sex or that of heroic performance are frequently not even
felt. Soldiers wounded on the Anzio Beachhead who hoped their wounds
would get them out of the army and back home as heroes rejected
morphine injections that they would have considered absolutely
necessary if similar injuries had been inflicted by the dentist or in
the operating theater.15
As culture is medicalized,
the social determinants of pain are distorted. Whereas culture
recognizes pain as an intrinsic, intimate, and incommunicable
"disvalue," medical civilization focuses primarily on pain as a
systemic reaction that can be verified, measured, and regulated. Only
pain perceived by a third person from a distance constitutes a
diagnosis that calls for specific treatment. This objectivization and
quantification of pain goes so far that medical treatises speak of
painful diseases, operations, or conditions even in cases where
patients claim to be unaware of pain. Pain calls for methods of control
by the physician rather than an approach that might help the person in
pain take on responsibility for his experience.16 The medical
profession judges which pains are authentic, which have a physical and
which a psychic base, which are imagined, and which are simulated.17
Society recognizes and endorses this professional judgment. Compassion
becomes an obsolete virtue. The person in pain is left with less and
less social context to give meaning to the experience that often
overwhelms him.
The history of medical perception
of pain has not yet been written. A few learned monographs deal with
the moments during the last 250 years in which the attitude of
physicians towards pain changed,18 and some historical references can
be found in papers dealing with contemporary attitudes towards pain.19
The existential school of anthropological medicine has gathered
valuable insights into the development of modern pain while tracing the
changes in bodily perception in a technological age.20 The relationship
between the medical institutions and the anxiety suffered by their
patients has been explored by psychiatrists21 and occasionally by
general physicians. But the relationship of corporate medicine to
bodily pain in its real sense is still virgin territory for research.
The historian of pain has to face three special problems. The first is
the profound transformation undergone by the relationship of pain to
the other ills man can suffer. Pain has changed its position in
relation to grief, guilt, sin, anguish, fear, hunger, impairment, and
discomfort. What we call pain in a surgical ward is something for which
former generations had no special name. It now seems as if pain were
only that part of human suffering over which the medical profession can
claim competence or control. There is no historical precedent for the
contemporary situation in which the experience of personal bodily pain
is shaped by the therapeutic program designed to destroy it. The second
problem is language. The technical matter which contemporary medicine
designates by the term "pain" even today has no simple equivalent in
ordinary speech. In most languages the term taken over by the doctors
covers grief, sorrow, anguish, shame, and guilt. The English "pain" and
the German "Schmerz" are still relatively easy to use in such a way
that a mostly, though not exclusively, physical meaning is conveyed.
Most Indo-Germanic synonyms cover a wider range of meaning:22 bodily
pain may be designated as "hard work," "toil," or "trial," as
"torture," "endurance," "punishment," or more generally, "affliction,"
as "illness," "tiredness," "hunger," "mourning," "injury," "distress,"
"sadness," "trouble," "confusion," or "oppression." This litany is far
from complete: it shows that language can distinguish many kinds of
"evils," all of which have a bodily reflection. In some languages
bodily pain is outright "evil." If a French doctor asks a typical
Frenchman where he has pain, the patient will point to the spot and
say, "J'ai mal là." On the other hand, a Frenchman can say, "Je souffre
dans toute ma chair," and at the same time tell his doctor, "Je n'ai
mal nulle part." If the concept of bodily pain has undergone an
evolution in medical usage, it cannot be grasped simply in the changing
significance of any one term.
A third obstacle to
any history of pain is its exceptional axiological and epistemological
status.23 Nobody will ever understand "my pain" in the way I mean it,
unless he suffers the same headache, which is impossible, because he is
another person. In this sense "pain" means a breakdown of the clear-cut
distinction between organism and environment, between stimulus and
response.24 It does not mean a certain class of experience that allows
you and me to compare our headaches; much less does it mean a certain
physiological or medical entity, a clinical case with certain
pathological signs. It is not "pain in the sternocleidomastoid" which
is perceived as a systematic disvalue for the medical scientist.
The exceptional kind of disvalue that is pain promotes an exceptional
kind of certainty. Just as "my pain" belongs in a unique way only to
me, so I am utterly alone with it. I cannot share it. I have no doubt
about the reality of the pain experience, but I cannot really tell
anybody what I experience. I surmise that others have "their" pains,
even though I cannot perceive what they mean when they tell me about
them. I am certain about the existence of their pain only in the sense
that I am certain of my compassion for them. And yet, the deeper my
compassion, the deeper is my certitude about the other person's utter
loneliness in relation to his experience. Indeed, I recognize the signs
made by someone who is in pain, even when this experience is beyond my
aid or comprehension. This awareness of extreme loneliness is a
peculiarity of the compassion we feel for bodily pain; it also sets
this experience apart from any other experience, from compassion for
the anguished, sorrowful, aggrieved, alien, or crippled. In an extreme
way, the sensation of bodily pain lacks the distance between cause and
experience found in other forms of suffering.
Notwithstanding the inability to communicate bodily pain, perception of
it in another is so fundamentally human that it cannot be put into
parentheses. The patient cannot conceive that his doctor is unaware of
his pain, any more than the man on the rack can conceive this about his
torturer. The certainty that we share the experience of pain is of a
very special kind, greater than the certainty that we share humanity
with others. There have been people who have treated their slaves as
chattels, yet recognized that this chattel was able to suffer pain.
Slaves are more than dogs, who can be hurt but cannot suffer.
Wittgenstein has shown that our special, radical certainty about the
existence of pain in other people can coexist with an inextricable
difficulty in explaining how this sharing of the unique can come
about.25
It is my thesis that bodily pain,
experienced as an intrinsic, intimate, and incommunicable disvalue,
includes in our awareness the social situation in which those who
suffer find themselves. The character of the society shapes to some
degree the personality of those who suffer and thus determines the way
they experience their own physical aches and hurts as concrete pain. In
this sense, it should be possible to investigate the progressive
transformation of the pain experience that has accompanied the
medicalization of society. The act of suffering pain always has a
historical dimension.
When I suffer pain, I am
aware that a question is being raised. The history of pain can best be
studied by focusing on that question. No matter if the pain is my own
experience or if I see the gestures of another telling me that he is in
pain, a question mark is written into this perception. Such a query is
as integral to physical pain as the loneliness. Pain is the sign for
something not answered; it refers to something open, something that
goes on the next moment to demand, What is wrong? How much longer? Why
must I/ought I/should I/can I/ suffer? Why does this kind of evil
exist, and why does it strike me? Observers who are blind to this
referential aspect of pain are left with nothing but conditioned
reflexes. They are studying a guinea pig, not a human being. A
physician, were he able to erase this value-loaded question shining
through a patient's complaints, might recognize pain as the symptom of
a specific bodily disorder, but he would not come close to the
suffering that drove the patient to seek help. The development of this
capacity to objectify pain is one of the results of overintensive
education for physicians. By his training the physician is often
enabled to focus on those aspects of a person's bodily pain that are
accessible to management by outsiders: the peripheral-nerve
stimulation, the transmission, the reaction to the stimulus, or even
the anxiety level of the patient. Concern is limited to the management
of the systemic entity, which is the only matter open to operational
verification.
The personal performance of suffering
escapes such experimental control and is therefore neglected in most
experiments that are conducted on pain. Animals are usually used to
test the "pain-killing" effects of pharmacological or surgical
interventions. Once the results of animal tests have been tabulated,
their validity is verified in people. Painkillers usually give more or
less comparable results in guinea pigs and humans, provided those
humans are used as experimental subjects and under experimental
conditions similar to those under which the animals were tested. As
soon as the same interventions are applied to people who are actually
sick or have been wounded, the effects of the drugs are completely out
of line with those found in the experimental situation. In the
laboratory people feel exactly like mice. When their own life becomes
painful, they usually cannot help suffering, well or badly, even when
they want to respond like mice.26
Living in a
society that values anesthesia, both doctors and their potential
clients are retrained to smother pain's intrinsic question mark. The
question raised by intimately experienced pain is transformed into a
vague anxiety that can be submitted to treatment. Lobotomized patients
provide the extreme example of this expropriation of pain: they "adjust
at the level of domestic invalids or household pets." 27 The
lobotomized person still perceives pain but he has lost the capacity to
suffer from it; the experience of pain is reduced to a discomfort with
a clinical name.
For an experience of pain to
constitute suffering in the full sense, it must fit into a cultural
framework.28 To enable individuals to transform bodily pain into a
personal experience, any culture provides at least four interrelated
subprograms: words, drugs, myths, and models. Pain is shaped by culture
into a question that can be expressed in words, cries, and gestures,
which are often recognized as desperate attempts to share the utter
confused loneliness in which pain is experienced: Italians groan and
Prussians grind their teeth.
Each culture also
provides its own psychoactive pharmacopeia, with customs that designate
the circumstances in which drugs may be taken and the accompanying
ritual.29 Muslim Rayputs prefer alcohol and Brahmins marijuana,30
though they intermingle in the same villages of western India.31 Peyote
is safe for Navajos32 and mushrooms for the Huicholes,33 while Peruvian
highlanders have learned to survive with coca.34 Man has not only
evolved with the ability to suffer his pain, but also with the skills
to manage it:35 poppy growing36 during the middle Stone Age probably
preceded the planting of grains. Massage, acupuncture, and analgesic
incense were known from the dawn of history.37 Religious and mythic
rationales for pain have appeared in all cultures: for the Muslims it
is Kismet,38 god-willed destiny; for the Hindus, karma,39 a burden from
past incarnation; for the Christians, a sanctifying backlash of sin.40
Finally, cultures always have provided an example on which behavior in
pain could be modeled: the Buddha, the saint, the warrior, or the
victim. The duty to suffer in their guise distracts attention from
otherwise all-absorbing sensation and challenges the sufferer to bear
torture with dignity. The cultural setting not only provides the
grammar and technique, the myths and examples used in its
characteristic "craft of suffering well," but also the instructions on
how to integrate this repertoire. The medicalization of pain, on the
other hand, has fostered a hypertrophy of just one of these
modes—management by technique—and reinforced the decay of the others.
Above all, it has rendered either incomprehensible or shocking the idea
that skill in the art of suffering might be the most effective and
universally acceptable way of dealing with pain. Medicalization
deprives any culture of the integration of its program for dealing with
pain.
Society not only determines how doctor and
patient meet, but also what each of them shall think, feel, and do
about pain. As long as the doctor conceived of himself primarily as a
healer, pain assumed the role of a step towards the restoration of
health. Where the doctor could not heal, he felt no qualms about
telling his patient to use analgesics and thus moderate inevitable
suffering. Like Oliver Wendell Holmes, the good doctor who knew that
nature provided better remedies for pain than medicine could say "[with
the exception of] opium, which the Creator himself seems to prescribe,
for we often see the scarlet poppy growing in the cornfields as if it
were foreseen that wherever there is hunger to be fed there must also
be pain to be soothed; [with the exception of] a few specifics which
our doctor's art did not discover; [with the exception of] wine, which
is a food, and the vapours which produce the miracle of anaesthesia . .
. I firmly believe that if the whole materia medica, as now used, could
be sunk to the bottom of the sea, it would be all the better for
mankind—and all the worse for the fishes."41
The
ethos of the healer gave the physician the capacity for the same
dignified failure for which religion, folklore, and free access to
analgesics had trained the common man.42 The functionary of
contemporary medicine is in a different position: his first orientation
is treatment, not healing. He is geared, not to recognize the question
marks that pain raises in him who suffers, but to degrade these pains
into a list of complaints that can be collected in a dossier. He prides
himself on the knowledge of pain mechanics and thus escapes the
patient's invitation to compassion.
One source of
European attitudes towards pain certainly lies in ancient Greece. The
pupils of Hippocrates43 distinguished many kinds of disharmony, each of
which caused its own kind of pain. Pain thus became a useful tool for
diagnosis. It revealed to the physician which harmony the patient had
to recover. Pain might disappear in the process of healing, but this
was certainly not the primary object of the doctor's treatment. Whereas
the Chinese tried very early to treat sickness through the removal of
pain, nothing of this sort was prominent in the classical West. The
Greeks did not even think about enjoying happiness without taking pain
in their stride. Pain was the soul's experience of evolution. The human
body was part of an irreparably impaired universe, and the sentient
soul of man postulated by Aristotle was fully coextensive with his
body. In this scheme there was no need to distinguish between the sense
and the experience of pain. The body had not yet been divorced from the
soul, nor had sickness been divorced from pain. All words that
indicated bodily pain were equally applicable to the suffering of the
soul.
In view of that heritage, it would be a grave
mistake to believe that resignation to pain is due exclusively to
Jewish or Christian influence. Thirteen distinct Hebrew words were
translated by a single Greek term for "pain" when two hundred Jews of
the second century B.C. translated the Old Testament into Greek.44
Whether or not pain for the Jew was considered an instrument of divine
punishment, it was always a curse.45 No suggestion of pain as a
desirable experience can be found in the Scriptures or the Talmud.46 It
is true that specific organs were affected by pain, but those organs
were conceived of also as seats of very specific emotions; the category
of modern medical pain is totally alien to the Hebrew text. In the New
Testament, pain is considered to be intimately entwined with sin.47
While for the classical Greek pain had to accompany pleasure, for the
Christian pain was a consequence of his commitment to joy.48 No culture
or tradition holds a monopoly on realistic resignation.
The history of pain in European culture would have to trace more than
these classical and Semitic roots to find the ideologies that supported
personal acceptance of pain. For the Neo-Platonist, pain was
interpreted as the result of some deficiency in the celestial
hierarchy. For the Manichaean, it was the result of positive
malpractice on the part of an evil demiurge or creator. For the
Christian, it was the loss of original integrity produced by Adam's
sin. But no matter how much these religions opposed each other on dogma
and morals, all of them saw pain as the bitter taste of cosmic evil,
the manifestation of nature's weakness, of a diabolical will, or of a
well-deserved divine curse. This attitude towards pain is a unifying
and distinctive characteristic of Mediterranean postclassical cultures
which lasted until the seventeenth century. As an alchemic doctor put
it in the sixteenth century, pain is the "bitter tincture added to the
sparkling brew of the world's seed." Each person was born with the call
to learn to live in a vale of pain. The Neo-Platonist interpreted
bitterness as a lack of perfection, the Cathar as disfigurement, the
Christian as a wound for which he was held responsible. In dealing with
the fullness of life, which found one of its major expressions in pain,
people were able to stand up in heroic defiance or stoically deny the
need for alleviation; they could welcome the opportunity for
purification, penance, or sacrifice, and reluctantly tolerate the
inevitable while seeking to relieve it. Opium, acupuncture, or
hypnosis, always in combination with language, ritual, and myth, was
applied to the unique human performance of suffering pain. One approach
to pain was, however, unthinkable, at least in the European tradition:
the belief that pain ought not to be suffered, alleviated, and
interpreted by the person affected, but that it should be—ideally
always—destroyed through the intervention of a priest, politician, or
physician.
There were three reasons why the idea of
professional, technical pain-killing was alien to all European
civilizations.49 First: pain was man's experience of a marred universe,
not a mechanical dysfunction in one of its subsystems. The meaning of
pain was cosmic and mythic, not individual and technical. Second: pain
was a sign of corruption in nature, and man himself was a part of that
whole. One could not be rejected without the other; pain could not be
thought of as distinct from the ailment. The doctor could soften the
pangs, but to eliminate the need to suffer would have meant to do away
with the patient. Third: pain was an experience of the soul, and this
soul was present all over the body. Pain was a nonmediated experience
of evil. There could be no source of pain distinct from pain that was
suffered.50
The campaign against pain as a personal
matter to be understood and suffered got under way only when body and
soul were divorced by Descartes. He constructed an image of the body in
terms of geometry, mechanics, or watchmaking, a machine that could be
repaired by an engineer. The body became an apparatus owned and managed
by the soul, but from an almost infinite distance. The living body
experience which the French refer to as "la chair" and the Germans as
"der Leib" was reduced to a mechanism that the soul could inspect.51
For Descartes pain became a signal with which the body reacts in
self-defense to protect its mechanical integrity. These reactions to
danger are transmitted to the soul, which recognizes them as painful.
Pain was reduced to a useful learning device: it now taught the soul
how to avoid further damage to the body. Leibnitz sums up this new
perspective when he quotes with approval a sentence by Regis, who was
in turn a pupil of Descartes: "The great engineer of the universe has
made man as perfectly as he could make him, and he could not have
invented a better device for his maintenance than to provide him with a
sense of pain."52 Leibnitz's comment on this sentence is instructive.
He says first that in principle it would have been even better if God
had used positive rather than negative reinforcement, inspiring
pleasure each time a man turned away from the fire that could destroy
him. However, he concludes that God could have succeeded with this
strategy only by working miracles, and since, as a matter of principle,
God avoids miracles, "pain is a necessary and brilliant device to
ensure man's functioning." Within two generations of Descartes's
attempt at a scientific anthropology, pain has become useful. From
being the experience of the precariousness of existence,53 it had
turned into an indicator of specific breakdown.
By the
end of the last century, pain had become a regulator of body functions,
subject to the laws of nature; it needed no more metaphysical
explanation.54 It had ceased to deserve any mystical respect and could
be subjected to empirical study in order to do away with it. By 1853,
barely a century and a half after pain was recognized as a mere
physiological safeguard, a medicine labeled as a "pain-killer" was
marketed in La Crosse, Wisconsin.55 A new sensibility had developed
which was dissatisfied with the world, not because it was dreary or
sinful or lacking in enlightenment or threatened by barbarians, but
because it was full of suffering and pain.56 Progress in civilization
became synonymous with the reduction of the sum total of suffering.
From then on, politics was taken to be an activity not so much for
maximizing happiness as for minimizing pain. The result is a tendency
to see pain as essentially a passive happening inflicted on helpless
victims because the toolbox of the medical corporation is not being
used in their favor.
In this context it now seems
rational to flee pain rather than to face it, even at the cost of
giving up intense aliveness. It seems reasonable to eliminate pain,
even at the cost of losing independence. It seems enlightened to deny
legitimacy to all nontechnical issues that pain raises, even if this
means turning patients into pets.57 With rising levels of induced
insensitivity to pain, the capacity to experience the simple joys and
pleasures of life has equally declined. Increasingly stronger stimuli
are needed to provide people in an anesthetic society with any sense of
being alive. Drugs, violence, and horror turn into increasingly
powerful stimuli that can still elicit an experience of self.
Widespread anesthesia increases the demand for excitation by noise,
speed, violence—no matter how destructive.
This
raised threshold of physiologically mediated experience, which is
characteristic of a medicalized society, makes it extremely difficult
today to recognize in the capacity for suffering a possible symptom of
health. The reminder that suffering is a responsible activity is almost
unbearable to consumers, for whom pleasure and dependence on industrial
outputs coincide. By equating all personal participation in facing
unavoidable pain with "masochism," they justify their passive
life-style. Yet, while rejecting the acceptance of suffering as a form
of masochism, anesthesia consumers tend to seek a sense of reality in
ever stronger sensations. They tend to seek meaning for their lives and
power over others by enduring undiagnosable pains and unrelievable
anxieties: the hectic life of business executives, the self-punishment
of the rat-race, and the intense exposure to violence and sadism in
films and on television. In such a society the advocacy of a renewed
style in the art of suffering that incorporates the competent use of
new techniques will inevitably be misinterpreted as a sick desire for
pain: as obscurantism, romanticism, dolorism, or sadism.
Ultimately, the management of pain might substitute a new kind of
horror for suffering: the experience of artificial painlessness. Lifton
describes the impact of mass death on survivors by studying people who
had been close to ground zero in Hiroshima.58 He found that people
moving amongst the injured and dying simply ceased to feel; they were
in a state of numbness, without emotional response. He believed that
after a while this emotional closure merged with a depression which,
twenty years after the bomb, still manifested itself in the guilt or
shame of having survived without experiencing any pain at the time of
the explosion. These people live in an interminable encounter with
death which has spared them, and they suffer from a vast breakdown of
trust in the larger human matrix that supports each individual human
life. They experienced their anesthetized passage through this event as
something just as monstrous as the death of those around them, as a
pain too dark and too overwhelming to be confronted, or suffered.59
What the bomb did in Hiroshima might guide us to an understanding of
the cumulative effect on a society in which pain has been medically
"expropriated." Pain loses its referential character if it is dulled,
and generates a meaningless, questionless residual horror. The
sufferings for which traditional cultures have evolved endurance
sometimes generated unbearable anguish, tortured imprecations, and
maddening blasphemies; they were also self-limiting. The new experience
that has replaced dignified suffering is artificially prolonged,
opaque, depersonalized maintenance. Increasingly, pain-killing turns
people into unfeeling spectators of their own decaying selves.
---------------------------------------------
1 For a very sensitive phenomenological analysis of the modernization
of the pain experience, see Peter Berger, "Policy and the Calculus of
Pain," in Pyramids of Sacrifice: Political Ethics and Social Change
(New York: Basic Books, 1974), chap.
2 F. J. J.
Buytendijk, Pain, Its Modes and Functions, trans. Eda O'Shiel (Chicago:
Univ. of Chicago Press, 1962). Rudolf Bilz, Paläoanthropologie, vols.
1-2, Studien über Angst and Schmerz (Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1971).
3 Victor Weizsäcker, Arzt und Kranker (Stuttgart: Kohler, 1949), vol. 1.
4 Thomas S. Szasz, Pain and Pleasure (New York: Basic Books, 1957).
5 For an analysis of the reaction to pain on the part of contemporary
authors and philosophers, see Ida Cermak, Ich klage nicht: Begegnungen
mil der Krankheit in Selbstzeugnissen schöpferischer Menschm (Vienna:
Amalthea, 1972). In late medieval times it was almost impossible to
recognize, from the behavior of a person in pain, if the origin of the
experience was grief, compassion, hurt pride, or a wound. Wilhelm
Scherer, Der Ausdruck des Schmerzes and der Freude in der
mittelhochdeutschen Dichtung der Blütezeit (Strassburg, 1908).
6 When the artists of classical Greece portrayed pain, they were only
indirectly concerned with its physiological impact and principally
tried to represent the more or less personal way this impact was
experienced. Ernst Hannes Brauer, Studien zur Darstellung des Schmerzes
in der antiken bildenden Kunst Griechenlands and Italiens, inaugural
dissertation, Univ. of Breslau (Breslau: Nischkowsky, 1934). For
analogous conclusions about the Attic theater, Karl Kiefer,
Körperlicher Schmerz aufder attischm Bühne, inaugural dissertation
(Heidelberg: Carl Winter's Universitatsbuchhandlung, 1908).
7 For 60 plastic representations of human beings in pain, see Friedrich
Schulze-Maizier and H. Moehle, Schmerz (Berlin: Metzner, 1943). Also F.
Garnaud, "La Douleur dans l'art," Aesculape, 1957, several pages in
successive issues.
8 Victor Weiszäcker, "Zum
Begriffder Arbeit: Eine Habeas-Corpus Akte der Medizin?" in Edgar
Salin, ed., Synopsis: Festgabe für Alfred Weber (Heidelberg: Schneider,
1948), pp. 707-61. A phenomenological description of suffering as a
Leistung, i.e., an activity of the sick person which elicits respect in
all societies and is usually recognized as a "performance" that, though
different from work, has a social status analogous to it. Albert
Görres, ed., Der Kranke, Ärgemis der Leislungsgesellschaft (Düsseldorf:
Patmos, 1971). Although he does not go that far, Everett Hughes,
Men.and Their Work (New York: Free Press, 1958), provides a basis for a
similar interpretation.
9 Bilz, "Die Menschheitsgeschichtlich ältesten Mythologeme," in Studien über Angst und Schmerz, pp. 276-94.
10 Asenath Petrie, Individuality in Pain and Suffering (Chicago: Univ.
of Chicago Press, 1967). People differ in the intensity with which they
modulate experience; some reduce and others increase what is perceived,
including pain. This reaction pattern is partially determined
genetically. See also B. B. Wolff and M. E. Jarvik, "Relationship
Between Superficial and Deep Somatic Threshold of Pain, with a Note on
Handedness," American Journal of Psychology 77 (1964): 589-99.
11 For the person who is supposed to suffer at childbirth, and the
place in the body where pain is supposed to originate, see Grantly
Dick-Read, Childbirth Without Fear (1944; paperback ed., New York:
Dell, 1962). Contains much information on the impact of culture on the
level of fear and the relationship between fear and the pain experience.
12 Henry K. Beecher, Measurement of Subjective Responses: Quantitative
Effects of Drugs (New York: Oxford Univ. Press, 1959). Opiates exert
their principal action, not on the pain impulse, which is transmitted
through the nervous system, but on the psychological overlay of pain.
They lower the level of anxiety. Placebos can achieve the same effect
in many people. Severe postsurgical pain can be relieved in about 35%
of patients by giving them a sugar or saline tablet instead of an
analgesic. Since only 75% are relieved under such circumstances with
large doses of morphine, the placebo effect might account for 50% of
drug effectiveness. See also Harris Hill et al., "Studies on Anxiety
Associated with Anticipation of Pain: I. Effects of Morphine," A.M.A.
Archives of Neurology and Psychiatry 67 (May 1952): 612-19.
13 R. Melzack and T. H. Scott, "The Effect of Early Experience on the
Response to Pain," Journal of Comparative and Physiological Psychology
50 (April 1957): 155-61. For a phenomenological analysis see Victor E.
von Gebsattel, Imago hominis: Beiträge zu einer personalen
Anthropologie, 2nd ed. (Salzburg: Otto Muller, 1968); Jacques Sarano,
La Douleur (Lyons: Editions de 1'Epi, 1965).
14
Thomas Keith, Religion and the Decline of Magic: Studies in Popular
Beliefs in the 16th and 17th Centuries in England (London: Weidenfeld,
1971). On the importance and practical utility of religion and
superstition in early modern England in the relief of suffering.
15 Beecher, Measurement of Subjective Responses, pp. 164 ff.
16 For information on this subject consult James D. Hardy et al., Pain
Sensations and Reactions (1952; reprint ed., New York: Hafner, 1967);
Harold G. and Stewart Wolff, Pain, American Lectures in Physiology
Series, 2nd ed. (Springfield, 111.: Thomas, 1958); Benjamin L. Crue,
Pain and Suffering: Selected Aspects (Springfield, Ill.: Thomas, 1970).
17 Thomas S. Szasz, "The Psychology of Persistent Pain: A Portrait of
L'Homme Douloureux," in A. Soulairac, J. Cahn, and J. Charpentier,
eds., Pain (New York: Academic Press, 1968), pp. 93-113.
18 Richard Toellner, "Die Umbewertung des Schmerzes im 17. Jahrhundert
in ihren Vorraussetzungen und Folgen," Medizinhistorisches Journal 6
(1971): 707-61. Ferdinand Sauerbruch and Hans Wenke, Wesen und
Bedeutung des Schmerzes (Berlin: Junker & Dünnhaupt, 1936). Thomas
Keys, History of Surgical Anesthesia, rev. ed. (New York: Dover, 1963).
19 Kenneth D. Keele, Anatomies of Pain (Springfield, Ill.: Thomas,
1957). Hermann Buddensieg, Leid und Schmerz als Schöpfermacht
(Heidelberg: n.p., 1956).
20 Gebsattel, Imago
hominis. Sarano, La Douleur. Karl E. Rothschuh, Physiologies Der Wandel
ihrer Konzepte, Probleme und Methoden vom 16. bis 20. Jahrhundert
(Freiburg: Alber, 1968). An invaluable guide to the history of
physiology since the 16th century, which comes as close as possible to
a history of the medical perception of pain. Karl E. Rothschuh, Vm
Boerhaave bis Berger: Die Entwicklung der kontinentalen Psychologie im
18. und 19. Jahrhundert mil besonderer Beruecksichtigung der
Neurophysiologie (Stuttgart: Fischer, 1964).
21 H.
Merskey and F. G. Spear, Pain: Psychological and Psychiatric Aspects
(London: Bailliere, Tindall & Cassell, 1967), reviews significant
papers and attempts a clarification of the use of pain in experimental
work.
22 See Carl Darling Buck, A Dictionary of
Selected Synonyms in the Principal Indo-European Languages: A
Contribution to the History of Ideas (Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press,
1949), for the following four semantic fields: pain-suffering, 16.31;
grief-sorrow, 16.32; emotion-feeling, 16.12; passion, 16:13. See also
W. Frenzen, Klagebilder und Klagegebärden in der deutschen Dichtung des
höfischen Mittelalters, dissertation, Univ. of Bonn (Würzburg:
Triltsch, 1938). Georg Zappert, "Über den Ausdruck des geistigen
Schmerzes im Mittelalter: Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der
Förderungs-Momente des Rührenden im Romantischen," in Denkschrijlen der
Kaiserlichen Akademie der Wissenschaften (Vienna:
Philosophisch-historisch Classe, 1854), 5: 73-136.
23 Robert S. Hartman, The Structure of Value: Foundation of Scientific
Axiology (Carbondale: Southern Illinois Univ. Press, 1967), especially
pp. 255 ff. A distinction is made between "my pain," an intrinsic
disvalue about which a totally unique certainty exists; "your pain," an
extrinsic disvalue for which I can experience compassion; and "the kind
of pain from which a third person is said to suffer," such as the
migraines of unspecified patients, for which I can at best solicit some
general sympathy. The pain about which a history ought to be written is
the personalized experience of intrinsic pain: the inclusion in the
experience of pain of the social situation in which pain occurs.
24 David Bakan, Disease, Pain and Sacrifice: Toward a Psychology of
Suffering (Boston: Beacon Press, 1968), deals with pain as a breakdown
of telos and of distality. "Pain, having no other locus but the
conscious ego, is almost literally the price man pays for the
possession of a conscious ego . . . unless there is an awake and
conscious organism, there is nothing one can sensibly refer to as pain."
25 Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations (Oxford: Oxford Univ. Press, 1953), pp. 89 ff.
26 A. Soulairac, J. Cahn, and J. Charpentier, eds. Pain. Proceedings of
the International Symposium Organized by the Laboratory of
Psychophysiology, Faculté des Sciences, Paris, April 11-13, 1967 (New
York: Academic Press, 1968), especially pp. 119-230.
27 See Szasz, "Psychology of Persistent Pain."
28 Mark Zborowski, "Cultural Components in Responses to Pain," in E.
Gartly Jaco, Patients, Physicians and Illness (New York: Free Press,
1958), pp. 256-68.
29 B. Holmstedt, "Historical
Survey," in Ethnopharmacologic Search for Psycho-active Drugs
(Washington, D.C.: National Institute of Mental Health, 1967), pp. 3-31.
30 For alcohol in general, see Salvatore P. Lucia, A History of Wine as
Therapy (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1963). Illustrates the social functions
of alcohol as an intoxicant. E. R. Bloomquist, Marihuana (Beverly
Hills, Calif.: Glencoe Press, 1968). On the setting and distribution of
marijuana use since antiquity.
31 G. M. Carstairs,
"Daru and Bhang, Cultural Factors in the Choice of Intoxicant,"
Quarterly Journal of Studies on Alcohol 15 (June 1954): 220-37.
32 Robert L. Bergman, "Navajo Peyote Use: Its Apparent Safety,"
American Journal of Psychiatry 128 (December 1971): 695-9. When peyote
is used in a ritual setting by members of the Native American Church,
less than one bad trip occurs for every 10,000 doses taken. W. La
Barre, The Peyote Cult (Hamden, Conn.: Shoestring Press, 1964). A
thorough history of peyote use among the American Indians, including an
extensive bibliography.
33 R. G. Wasson, Soma: Divine Mushroom of Immortality (New York: Harcourt Brace, 1969).
34 H. Blyed-Prieto, "Coca Leaf and Cocaine Addiction: Some Historical
Notes," Canadian Medical Association Journal 93 (1965): 700-4.
Sociological and historical information.
35 Robert
Burton, The Anatomy of Melancholy, 3 vols. (New York: Dutton, 1964;
orig. ed. 1621). The classic treatise on Renaissance chemotherapy,
which "elevates the mind from the depths of despair" by means of poppy,
henbane, mandrake, nightshade, nutmeg, etc.
36
"Opium," in Encyclopaedia Britannica (1911), 20:130-7. The historical
geography of poppy-growing and the history of its use presented in a
Victorian perspective.
37 Peter Graystone,
Acupuncture and Pain Theory: A Comprehensive Bibliography (Vancouver:
Biomedical Engineering Services, 1975). Complement with Billy and
Miriam Tarn, Acupuncture: An International Bibliography (Metuchen,
N.J.: Scarecrow Press, 1973).
38 For bibliography
consult W. Montgomery Watt, Free Will and Predestination in Early Islam
(London: Luzac, 1948). See also Duncan B. Macdonald, Religious Attitude
and Life in Islam (1909; reprint ed., New York: AMS Press, 1969).
39 H. H. Rowley, Submission in Suffering and Other Essays on Eastern
Thought (Cardiff: Univ. of Wales Press, 1951). E. M. Hoch, "Bhaya,
Shoka, Moha: Angst, Leid und Verwirrung in den alien indischen
Schriften und ihre Bedeutung für die Entstehung von Krankheiten," in
Wilhelm Bitter, ed., Abenländische Therapie und östliche Weisheit
(Stuttgart: Klett, 1968).
40 John Ferguson, The
Place of Suffering (Cambridge: Clarke, 1972). A dense history of the
classical and Hebrew background against which the Christian attitude
towards suffering developed.
41 Oliver Wendell Holmes, Medical Essays (Boston, 1883).
42 Jacques Sarano, "L'Échec et le médecin," in Jean Lacroix, ed., Les
Hommes devant l'échec (Paris: PUF, 1968), chap. 3, pp. 69-81.
43 For an exhaustive study of the diagnostic value ascribed to pain in
Hippocratic literature, see A. Souques, "La Douleur dans les livres
hippocratiques: Diagnostiques rétrospectifs," Bulletin de la Société
Française de I'Histoire de Médecine 31 (1937): 209-14, 279-309; 32
(1938): 178-86; 33 (1939)- 37-8 131-44; 34 (1940):53-9, 79-93.
44 For the evolution of the terms used to designate bodily pain and
suffering in the Bible, see Gerhard Kittel, Theologisches Wörterbiuh
zum Neuen Testament (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1933), the following
articles: lype (Bultmann); asthenés (Stahlin); pascho (Michaelis);
nosos (Oepke).
45 Immanuel Jakobovitz, "Attitude to Pain," in Jewish Medical Ethics (New York: Bloch, 1967), p. 103.
46 Julius Preuss, Biblisch-talmudische Medizin: Beitrag zur Geschichte
der Heilkunde and der Kultur überhaupt, 3rd ed. (Berlin: Karger, 1923).
Friedrich Weinreb, Vom Sirm des Erkrankms (Zurich: Origo, 1974): the
Hebrew word for "sickness" has the same root as the word for "ordinary."
47 Friedrich Fenner, Die Kmnkheit im Neuen Testament: Eine religiöse-
und medizingeschichtliche Untersuchung, Untersuchungen zum Neuen
Testament, no. 18, 1930 (dissertation, Univ. of Jena, 1930).
48 Harold Rowley, Servant of the Lord and Other Essays on the Old
Testament, 2nd ed. (Naperville, 111.: Allenson, 1965). Christopher R.
North, Suffering Servant in Deutero-Isaiah: An Historical and Critical
Study, 2nd ed. (New York: Oxford Univ. Press, 1956).
49 See references in note 18, p. 138 above.
50 K. E. Rothschuh, "Geschichtliches zur Physiologic des Schmerzes," in
Docummta Geigy: Problems of Pain (Basel, 1965), p. 4. Pain was
understood to be "perceived through the sensory faculty of the sentiens
anima; [it was] conceived as a property of the soul, a property
distributed through the entire body."
51 Herbert Plüge, Der Mensch und sein Leib (Tübingen: Niemeyer, 1947).
52 Gottfried Wilhelm Leibnitz, Essais de Théodicée sur la bonté de
Dieu, la liberté de I'homme et I'origine du mal (Paris:
Garnier-Flammarion, 1969), no. 342.
53 Pain came to
be considered mysterious and unmanageable without technical aids. For
orientation on the romantic attitude towards pain and the use of
narcotics, see Alethea Hayter, Opium and the Romantic Imagination
(Berkeley: Univ. of California Press, 1969). Also M. H. Abrams, The
Milk of Paradise (New York: Harper & Row, 1970). Its avoidance
became paramount: Robert Mauzi, L'Idée du bonheur dans la litterature
et la pensée françaises au 18ème siècle (Paris: Colin, 1960),
especially pp. 300-10 on the appearance of the conviction that pain is
the only true evil.
54 Charles Richet, "Douleur,"
in Dictionnaire de physiologie (Paris: Félix Alcan, 1902), 5:173-93. In
his five-volume standard dictionary of physiology he analyzes pain as a
physiological and psychological fact without considering either the
possibility of its treatment or its diagnostic significance. Ultimately
he comes to the conclusion that pain is supremely useful
(souverainement utile) because it makes us turn away from danger. Every
abuse is immediately followed for our punishment by pain, which is
clearly superior in intensity to the pleasure that abuse produced.
55 Mitford M. Mathews, ed., A Dictionary of Americanisms on Historical
Principles (Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press, 1966): "pain-killer. Any
one of various medicines or remedies for abolishing or relieving pain.
1853 La Crosse Democrat 7 June 2/4 Ayer's Cherry Pectoral, Perry Davis'
Pain Killer. 1886 Ebbutt Emigrant Life 119. We kept a bottle of
Pain-killer in the house . . . for medicinal purposes."
56 Kenneth Minogue, The Liberal Mind (London: Methuen, 1963).
57 Victor E. Frankl, Homo patients: Versuch einer Pathodizee (Vienna: Deutike, 1950).
58 Robert J. Lifton, Death in Life: Survivors of Hiroshima (New York: Random House, 1969).
59 Terrence Des Pres, "Survivors and the Will to Bear Witness," Social
Research 40 (winter 1973): 668-90, gives a constructive critique of
Robert Lifton. According to him, the survivors of concentration camps
have the urge to render significant a nameless experience they have
known: pain which is utterly senseless. According to Des Pres their
message is deeply offensive because since the middle of the 19th
century the suffering of others has become charged with moral status.
Kierkegaard preached salvation through pain, Nietzsche celebrated the
abyss, Marx the downtrodden and oppressed. The survivor excites envy of
his suffering, and simultaneously testifies that pain can be valued
only by the privileged few.