Genetic Heirloom

What are the psychological consequences of seeing oneself as a vehicle hosting selfish genes that would eventually destroy the body? Does that make one see a pregnancy as the gene’s victory? Or the host’s free will? Can a “vehicle” even claim to have a free will or have reproductive desires been confiscated by these little selfish replicators?

There is something frightening in Dawkins’ theory as this approach somewhat disconnects us from our bodies. Is our anatomy managed by an independent agency with a different agenda? It brings to mind the anxiety illustrated by the concoction of science fiction and horror in Ridley Scott’s Alien, a film “about human loneliness amid the emptiness and amorality of creation.” (Andrew O’Hehir)

In his book On Film (2002) Stephen Malhall interprets the story of the alien that infiltrates the body only to grow its own parasitical offsprings, whose birth kills the host body, as an investigation “into the condition of sequeldom,” namely the limitations and possibilities internal to the inheritance of “a particular set of characters in a particular narrative universe”(5) “what-mythologically speaking-endows Ripley with her drive for survival is herresolute repression of her drive to reproduce; and in this respect, she exists in utter opposition to the alien’s incarnation of that drive. In other words, to become capable and worthy of vanquishing her opponent, she must sever the connection between femaleness, heterosexual intercourse and fertility- she must, in short, deny her body’s openness to maternity” (25).
Does the modern-day-myth of the Alien series conclude that self inflicted infertility equals victory over the harmful monsters who seized our bodies?

Slavoj Zizek writes about the internal parasite alien in Finney’s The Invasion of the Body Snatchers. In this story a town is taken over by the aliens who penetrated and colonized human bodies, controlling them from within: although the aliens look and act exactly like humans, there is as a rule a tiny detail which betrays their true nature (a strange glimpse in their eyes; too much skin between their fingers or between their ears and heads). This detail, according to Zizek, is “the Lacanian objet petit a, a tiny feature whose presence magically transubstantiates its bearer into an alien. In contrast to Scott’s alien who is totally different from humans, the difference is here minimal, barely perceptible.”

This objet petit, could it now represent a mutation? A devilish selfish gene? Do carriers feel like their bodies have been snatched?

In Greek mythology, a miasma is a contagious power that has an independent life of its own. Until purged by the sacrificial death of the wrongdoer, society would be chronically infected by catastrophe.
The Greek drew parallels between birth and death as equal sources of miasma, and those who were in contact with the dead or newborn, as well as distant blood relatives, were considered polluted by proximity, physical or genetic. Although theories of miasma were later projected onto infectious diseases like the plague, one of the most interesting aspects of the original term was the belief that miasma spreads moral pollution.

“Miasma is a complex, metaphysical, non-moral term that covers activities from dreams to murder, the common thread being activities that inspire in society awe and dread. It is a term that explains otherwise inexplicable events, and therefore appears to be a supernatural response. One’s “dirt” may, and usually does, spill over onto innocent bystanders and fellow citizens, creating the need for a scapegoat so tat society may cleanse itself of the pollutant.” (Elise P. Garrison)

Do we now consider genetic mutations as miasma? A mutation may not be contagious by air or water, however it can be seen as a result of a casual chain of past events, resulting in a grave dislocation of normal life.
Is chemotherapy the purifying ritual? Or is that the pre-implantation genetic diagnosis process, purifying the fabric of society from a miasma of genetic mutation? The source of contamination (the parent) purifies their genetic line as an act of social repentance? Scarifying the potential future wrongdoers?

Is it possible that the narrative of genetic mutation within a family line has the elements of a Greek tragedy? Much like the dramatic art-form originated from hymns in praise of Dionysus - god of fertility, wine and ecstasy, it raises the core questions of human existence, questions of suffering, of fate, family, (hubris?) and punishment.

From the fatal flaw, the irreversible horrible deed that has unintentionally impaired the loved one, evoking both horror and compassion from the crowd, the revelation or recognition, leading to helpless suffering and ending in a predetermined, predictable disaster.

“There is only one inborn erroneous notion … that we exist in order to be happy … So long as we persist in this inborn error … the world seems to us full of contradictions. For at every step, in great things and small, we are bound to experience that the world and life are certainly not arranged for the purpose of maintaining a happy existence…hence the countenances of almost all elderly persons wear the expression of … disappointment.”

Schopenhauer The World as Will and Representation