The great liars of the Covid pandemic inspired the story below…

 

…and the questions now before us:

 

How did we get here?

When did we lose our way?

What are we to do moving forward?

Who can we trust?

Where is the sun to cast out this darkness?

 

(a retelling of…Nay,

a blatant mugging of –

Friedrich Nietzsche’s

The Madman)

 

Haven’t you heard of that crooked man who in the misty morning with pockets full, ran around the town’s square crying incessantly “I’m looking for Science! I’m looking for Science!” Since many of those who were oblivious to her fate stood around together just then, he caused great laughter. Has she run away, then? asked one. Was she scared off by 5G? asked another.  Or did someone try to feed her horse dewormer?  Was she reset? Was she kidnapped by Big Pharma?  Dr. Fauci?  Thus, they shouted and laughed, one interrupting the other. The crooked man jumped into their midst and pierced them with his eyes. “Where is Science?” he cried; “I’ll tell you!  We have killed her—you and I! We are all her murderers. But how did we do this? How were we able to extinguish the sun? Who gave us the power to censor conclusions? What were we doing when we chained policy to a noble lie? To where is it wandering? To where is it dragging us? Away from all facts? Are we not continually narrating? Leftward, rightward, sideways, in all directions grounded on feelings? Is there still green grass and blue sky? Aren’t we straying as though through an infinite deception? Isn’t the politics stalking us? Hasn’t it got grayer? Does not misinformation come on continually, grayer and grayer. Do facts still light the path to understanding? Do we still hear nothing of the noise of the grave-diggers who are burying Science? Do we still smell nothing of her rot?—Science, too, rots! Science is dead! Science remains dead! And we have killed her! How can we console ourselves, the murderers of all murderers! The noblest and the brightest thing the world has ever possessed has bled to death under our knives: who will wipe this blood from us? With what scientific journal could we right ourselves? To what peer reviews should we submit? What data models must we construct? Is the idiocy of this deed not too stupefying for us? Do we not ourselves have to obtain PhD’s merely to appear worthy of it? There was never a dumber deed—and whoever is born after us will on account of this deed belong to a lower history than all history up to now!” Here the politician fell silent, digging into his pockets, and looking again at his listeners; they too were silent and looked at him eagerly. Finally, he threw wads of cash to the ground and those scientists all scurried after it. “I come too early,” he then said; “my time is not yet. The mindless runts are still stuck to the sow’s teat, suckling. Maturing needs time. Understanding needs time. Objectivity requires the balls to say “To hell with your money! I’m searching to understand what is – not how you or I want things to be!“ But this deed, this deed is still more baffling to them than defining: what is a woman—and yet they have killed Science themselves!” It is still recounted how on the same day the crooked man forced his way into several laboratories and there started singing his requiem scientia sancta while handing out grants and contracts. Led out and called to account, he is said always to have replied nothing but, “What then are these laboratories now if not the tombs and sepulchers of Science?” followed immediately by, “Totalitarian doom awaits if you fail to elect me!”

 

 

Mugging by:  Bennett, M.J.

 

The Madman trans. J. Nauckhoff
(Cambridge University Press: Cambridge, 2002)