Invention: The Master-key to Progress

by Bradley A. Fiske

It may be pointed out here that of all the inventions and discoveries ever made, those made in medical and surgical science, especially in preventive measures, have had more direct and immediate influence on history than contemporary inventions in any other field, save possibly religion. For what is history but the life-story of the human race; and what greater influence can be had than influence upon the health of its component members? The discoveries and inventions made in the field of bacteriology especially, by gaining knowledge concerning the unseen and unheard foes that attack us from within, have lifted civilized man up to a condition of cleanliness and purity, in comparison with which the conditions under which our forefathers lived seem almost repulsive.

It is true that many of these conditions were outcomes of civilization itself, and that for some of them medicine has merely found the antidotes. Yet the fact that medicine has found antidotes shows that medicine has been keeping pace with progress and has invented measures for preventing the Machine from poisoning itself by a sort of auto-intoxication. That the Machine is in danger of disruption by outside and inside forces has been suggested frequently in this book; so that what seems to be indicated as desirable is a series of discoveries and inventions that will prevent it. But, in attempting this, we must not forget that each new discovery or invention adds another part, that safety devices are sometimes so intricate as to increase the danger element rather than lessen or prevent it, and that safety appliances themselves are apt to get out of order, and thus lead to a false sense of security. These reflections force on our attention the fallibility of the human, the necessity for continuous study of all situations as they successively develop, and the solemn fact that progress is not beneficial of itself; for it may be in the wrong direction.

One obvious fact that we have always realized, startles each one of us occasionally; the fact that "people do not know what is good for them." The appetites and instincts of undomesticated brutes are said to be much more trustworthy as guides than those of domesticated brutes and human beings. We, by cultivating our imaginations and reasoning powers, and the brutes by being given food and shelter that they themselves do not have to get, seem to have lost a considerable part of the instinctive abilities with which we were originally blessed. With human beings, many objects that most of us aim for are extremely artificial, and some of them are extremely harmful. An illustration is the craving for much food and little physical labor,—a craving that is gratified almost at once by most people suddenly achieving wealth, with consequences that are always deplorable and are frequently distressing.

Of course this comes from excessive yielding to our appetites; but the brutes seem to feel no temptation to excessive yielding; an undomesticated brute seems to know when he has had enough. We not only yield, we go further and force our appetites. Possibly this is only an illustration of the fact that our minds have a sort of inertia, comparable to the inertia of physical objects; so that when we move in any direction, we are apt to go too far. That it is a tendency of human nature to go too far in any line of conduct, when once it is entered on, the facts of daily life continually testify. What reformer in public or private life ever knew when to stop; what money maker ever realized that he had enough money and ceased his efforts to get more? A small percentage have, but only a small percentage.

For this reason and others, the human machine and the Machine of Civilization do not get along together as harmoniously as might be wished. Though many inventions, especially the basic ones, have been actually uncontrollable acts of self-expression, many others have been inspired by motives largely selfish, such as the wish to gain fame, or power or money (or fame and power and money); and the result is a Machine that contributes more to man's material well-being than to his moral, mental or spiritual well-being, and a consequent civilization that is necessarily artificial. The net effect, however (unless all our standards are wrong), has been beneficial; for it cannot truthfully be denied that physically, mentally, morally and spiritually, the civilized man is better than the savage, and to a degree commensurate with the degree to which he is civilized.

Probably most civilized men would agree to this proposition. Probably most of them would also agree that civilization brings its evil influences as well as its good influences, that the Machine has been found vulnerable to destructive influences in the past, that the ultimate effect must be judged from its influences on human beings, and that the most beneficent inventions and discoveries have been those that tend to the safety of the Machine itself and the spiritual, moral, mental and physical health of the individual humans who comprise its principal parts. They will therefore applaud such discoveries as those of Eberth, Koch and Sternberg of 1880, and also another one of Koch and one of Pasteur two years later. Both of these benefactors then isolated deadly microbes of disease: Koch the bacillus of tuberculosis, and Pasteur that of hydrophobia.

In 1881, Reece invented a button-hole machine and Schmid a hand photographic camera. Both of these were useful inventions if not brilliant. It would be interesting to know the amounts of money realized by their inventors, compared with the amounts received by Koch, Pasteur and Sternberg. In 1884, by the way, Koch made another epoch-making and beneficent discovery, and isolated the bacillus of cholera. Loeffler did the same thing, in the same year for diphtheria, and Nicolaier for lockjaw; while Kuno produced antipyrene.

In reflecting on what these great men accomplished, it is interesting to point out to ourselves that the consensus of opinion seems to be that, for most people, "the pursuit of happiness" is the main business of life. Whether this ought to be or not, should not distract our attention from the fact that it really is. To most of us—at least to those of us who are young—happiness seems to lie in the thing pursued, provided the pursuit succeeds. We all seek the crock of gold at the end of the rainbow, and imagine that if we get it, we shall get the summum bonum of everything—happiness. Yet all one has to do is to remember how happy he was one day when he was feeling well physically, morally, mentally and spiritually (as we all have at rare intervals), to realize that happiness is merely a condition,—and that it is a condition that depends more on the condition of his own machine than on all other things put together. When one observes the action of a fine trotting horse, the smooth and noiseless motion of a large steam-engine, or the majestic setting of the sun; or when he hears the harmonies of some great musical composer, or the grander harmonies of the ocean-breakers on the beach; or when he ponders on the inconceivably swift but God-like regularity of the stars and planets, he may get a faint and brief conception of what it means for a machine to be in order. Our human machines are rarely in this condition: but sometimes, without any assignable cause whatever, one takes a deep, full breath, and says, "It is good to live."

The men just spoken of, and the great teachers of truth in all ages, in even a higher degree, admonish us to keep our machines in order, and tell us how to do it.

How not to do it, the world and the flesh and the devil tell us unceasingly; beguiling us, as the serpent beguiled Eve, to eat; to gratify one and all the appetites of the senses, regardless of the effect on the machine inside. For we know those senses ought to guard our intake valves, but do not.