Zgodnie z Naturalną Medycyną, ciało jest jednym organizmem, nie mechanizmem.

 

1. Zgodnie z Naturalną Medycyną, ciało jest jednym organizmem, nie mechanizmem. Wszystko co dostaje się do ciała jeżeli nie zostało strawione, staje się mniej lub bardziej toksyczne. Jeżeli ilość toksyn jest zbyt wielka by zostały wydalone z moczem i kałem, ciało uruchamia inne sposoby na ich wydalania. I tak, choroby nie są w rzeczywistości chorobami same w sobie, lecz symptomami zatrucia organizmu. Np błędem jest „leczenie” łupieżu. To nie choroba skóry ale sposób detoksykfikacji ciała. Jeżeli udanie „wyleczymy” łupież jakimś szamponem, to co robimy to tylko uniemożliwiamy ciału pozbycia się toksyn.

   Droga do zdrowia wiedze przede wszystkim przez żywienie, i higienę, wszystko co sztuczne: konserwanty, barwniki to trucizny. Ktoś wspomniał o cholerze. Zdrowe ciało nie musi się obawiać bakterii:

   Another example that demonstrates the fallacy of the claim that specific bacteria cause specific diseases, or any disease at all, is that of Dr Max Pettenkofer MD, who Eleanor McBean reports to have swallowed, on more than one occasion, the contents of a glass containing millions of cholera bacilli in full view of a class of his students; yet it is reliably reported that Dr Pettenkofer failed to succumb to the disease.

   Although it has been suggested by certain sections of the scientific community that Koch’s postulates are flawed, out-of-date and need to be revised, such a suggestion ignores the central point, which is that allegedly ‘pathogenic’ bacteria can be found in abundance in and on the bodies of healthy people. These bacteria cannot therefore be regarded as pathogens merely on the basis that they are sometimes found in some people who are ill. Dr Peter Duesberg states the logical conclusion succinctly,

   “Simply finding a microbe is not enough to convict it of causing a disease.”

   O „osiągnięciach” Pasteura from the book Bechamp or Pasteur? A Lost Chapter in the History of Biology by Ethel Douglas Hume

   ON AN AUTUMN DAY IN 1895, the daily life of Paris gave way to the pageantry of a state funeral. The President of the French Republic, Members of Parliament, Government officials and members of scientific societies thronged to the obsequies of their compatriot Pasteur, whose worldwide fame seemed to bring honour to all France. In death as in life, no scientist ever reaped so much glory.

   Symbol of worldly prosperity, in the centre of the Pasteur Institute, is the costly chapel, resplendent with marble, porphyry and lapis lazuli, where the poor paralysed body has crumbled to dust beneath recorded boasts that can only read strangely indeed to those who have made a study of the old scientific records of the period. Here, for instance, on the walls of the chapel we find inscribed:

   1857 – Fermentations
   1862 – So-called spontaneous generation
   1863 – Studies in wine
   1865 – Diseases of silkworms
   1871 – Studies in beer
   1877 – Virulent microbic diseases
   1880 – Vaccinating viruses
   1885 – Prophylaxis of rabies

   Let us briefly annotate these so-called ‘triumphs’.

   1857 – Fermentations

   The Encyclopaedia Britannica tells us that Pasteur’s ‘theory of fermentation was materially modified…’

   And this, as we have seen, was inevitably the consequence of his separating this chemical phenomenon from ‘the acts of ordinary life’, and in so doing proving that he did not understand Béchamp’s explanation of fermentation as being the result of acts of assimilation and excretion.

   1862 – So-called spontaneous generation

   We have seen that Pasteur never satisfied the Sponteparists, and that his experiments sometimes contradicted his own conclusions.

   1863 – Studies in wine

   In dedicating his work to Napoleon III, Pasteur wrote:
   “Sire, if, as I hope, time consecrates the exactness of my work…”
   Dr. Lutaud comments:

   “The hope has been misplaced. Time has not consecrated the exactness of this work. All who placed confidence in this process underwent heavy loss. Only the State persisted in heating the wines destined for the armies of land and sea. This rendered them so bad that the men preferred to drink water. It is high time that the apparatus for heating wines according to the Pasteur system should be put into the melting pot.”

   1865 – Diseases of silkworms

   We have seen how, in regard to these complaints, Béchamp provided Pasteur with the correct diagnosis, and that after the latter inaugurated his system of grainage, this ‘salvation of sericulture’ led to a drop in production, according to M. de Masquard, from 15,000,000 to 8,000,000 and, later on, to 2,000,000 kilograms.

   1871 – Studies in beer

   Dr. Lutaud tells us that the boast that French breweries owe an incalculable debt to Pasteur is best answered by the facts that the latter’s process was abandoned as impracticable, and that the brewing of beer in France is almost nil, most of the amount found there having been imported from Germany.

   1877 – Virulent microbic diseases

   We have seen how Pasteur opposed the microzymian doctrine after failing in an apparent attempt at plagiarism, and followed instead the ideas of Linné, Kircher and Raspail.

   1880 – Vaccinating Viruses

   The Sanitary Commission of the Hungarian Government in 1881 included in a report this comment on the anti-anthrax inoculation:

   “The worst diseases – pneumonia, catarrhal fever, etc. – have exclusively struck down the animals subjected to injection. It follows from this that the Pasteur inoculation tends to accelerate the action of certain latent diseases, and to hasten the mortal issue of other grave affections.”
   As we have said, the Hungarian Government forbade the use of the inoculations.

   1885 – Prophylaxis of Rabies

   Dr. Lutaud reminds us how Professor Peter put pertinent questions to the Academy of Medicine on the 18th January, 1886, in the early days of Pasteur’s so-called preventive treatment.
   “Has the annual mortality from hydrophobia in France been diminished by the anti-rabies medication?”
   “No.”
   “Does this mortality tend to augment with the intensive rabies methods?”
   “Yes.”
   “Where then is the benefit?”
   As we have seen, the benefit lies in the monetary returns to be gained by manufacturers of vaccines. Pasteurism has become a vested interest, and one unfortunately supported by that powerful trade union, the medical establishment.

   Far be it from us to deny that Pasteur’s place in the world of science was gained by genius – but it was a genius for business, and he was certainly not of the order of intellectuals who are above the temptation of money.

   Although he professed reverence for religion, we find, on the authority of Dr. Lutaud, that he secured the election to the Institute of the physiologist Paul Bert, who had been objected to as an atheist. Dr. Lutaud claims that he did not resile, as well, from bringing about this election at the expense of his old friend and benefactor Davaine. To complete matters, he also made a condition of it that Bert, a member of the Budget Commission and influential with the Government, should obtain for him a pension of 25,000 francs.

   We, who live in an age of advertisement and unceasing adulation of celebrity, can appreciate Pasteur’s power in this direction. Ambition was his driving power, and even before any triumph had fallen his way, his mind was set firmly upon honour and glory.
   Early in his married life, when, according to his biographers ‘success did not come’, Mme Pasteur wrote to her father-in-law:

   “Louis is rather too preoccupied with his experiments; you know that those he is undertaking this year will give us, if they succeed, a Newton or Galileo.” The admiring wife was unaware of her testimony to her husband’s self-interest; there is certainly no allusion to any excitement as to the secrets that Nature might unfold. The exaltation of the individual is made the pivot of hope. More than this, as we study his life we find, throughout, his cleverness in allowing others to sound his praises, while at the same time he himself gave vent to self-depreciation; he thus, apparently, clothed himself in a humility seemingly not quite sincere; we can take note of his indignation against those, like Béchamp, who in asserting their just claims in any way detracted from his own honour.

   On no account would we deny his power in gaining affection. Parents, sisters, wife and children all appear to have lavished love upon him; while he also seems to have held the devotion of those who worked for and with him, and, on his side, to have been as good a friend to those as he was a bitter antagonist to all who differed from him.

   The claim of a tender heart has been advanced by his admirers. In his biography we read:
   “He could assist without too much effort, writes M. Roux, at a simple operation such as a subcutaneous inoculation, and even then, if the animal screamed at all, Pasteur was immediately filled with compassion, and tried to comfort and encourage the victim in such a way which would have seemed ludicrous if it had not been touching.”

   Such a comment certainly shows that M. Roux was himself too devoid of sensibility to be a fit judge of it.

   He goes on to describe the first trephining of a dog for Pasteur’s benefit, and concludes:
   “Pasteur was infinitely grateful to this dog for having borne trephining so well, thus lessening his scruples regarding future trephining.”

   So the gradual hardening process went on until any original compunction was blunted, leaving Pasteur unimaginatively callous to the sufferings he caused. An example may be taken from the journalL’Illustration:

   “The inoculated dogs are shut in circular cages, provided with a solid, close network. It is one of these dogs, in the paroxysm of rabies, which Pasteur showed us, observing: ‘He will die tomorrow.’
   The animal looked at him, ready to bite. Pasteur having kicked the wires of the cage, the animal dashed at him. It bit the bars, which became red with bloody saliva. Then, with its jaws bleeding, it turned, tearing the straw of its litter, back into its kennel, which it had gnawed the preceding night. From time to time it uttered a piercing and plaintive cry.”

   This teasing, worrying kick at the bars of the cage of his piteous victim, a dog – that true friend of man, coerced to suffer torment in the service of this ‘science’ – is a fitting commentary upon the heart of Louis Pasteur. Tenderness may have been for him all right in its place, but it was quite out of place when it stood in the way of ambition.

   Personal success dominated all other considerations, and the attainment of this was made easy by a forcefulness and tenacity nothing short of remarkable. Such traits are seen everywhere to be more cogent factors of worldly success than high intellectual ability. Of the latter, his childhood gave little evidence. His son-in-law honestly tells us:

   “Those who would decorate the early years of Louis Pasteur with wonderful legends would be disappointed: when he attended the daily classes at the Arbois College he belonged merely to the category of good average pupils.” His strongest force was his willpower, of which he wrote to his family:

   “Towill is a great thing, dear sisters, for action and work usually follow, and almost always work is accompanied by success.”

   Here again, as ever, we find success the leading motive of his life. Had he not put personal ambition before love of science, it would seem impossible for him to have opposed the fellow worker whose ideas, in numerous instances, he unquestionably pirated. Had his forcefulness and great business ability been harnessed to Béchamp’s idealistic intellect and all-round knowledge, incredible advances might have been made in science, rather than years being wasted on unsatisfactory theories at the cost of vast animal suffering and a dangerous form of experimentation on human beings.

   Time has, indeed, brought him triumph in the form of worldly acclamation. This is hardly surprising, for the way of popularity is through the wide gate, easy of entrance and undemanding. Pasteur, although during his life reviled and exposed by a few keen-sighted observers who saw through his pretences, was in general a popular man, and his cult of the microbe is a popular theory which the least scientific can easily understand: riches and prosperity attend upon it, as glory and renown attended upon him. Why should the ambitious imitate the self-immolation of the truthseeker Béchamp, who in his lonely apartment passed away almost unrecognised?

   Truth, not self, was Béchamp’s lodestar. Like Galileo, the simplest observation led him to his great discoveries, and, like Galileo, incessant persecutions, clerical and scientific, pursued him with unrelenting malignity. It was not through a lack of hatred among his opponents that he escaped the fate of Servetus, and his great work,Les Microzymas, an inclusion in the RomanIndex. Never had Truth a more zealous advocate than the man who, with Professor Estor, beheld with awestruck amazement the unfolding of Nature’s secrets. With his extraordinary powers of labour, he amply justified Carlyle’s definition of genius – ‘the capacity for taking infinite pains’; while, also, he absolutely exemplified the reverse side of abnormal faculties, which may be described as the capacity for doing with infinite ease that over which others are required to take infinite pains. From his boyhood, ordinary studies were to him the lightest of labour, while for his incessant researches no toil was too insistent, no sacrifice too great.

   Altogether he stood on an ethical plane elevated above much of his surroundings. He was surrounded by callous experimenters, men such as Claude Bernard, whose own daughters felt compelled to forsake him and undertake animal rescue work as atonement for their father’s vivisectional atrocities.

   Yet Professor Béchamp stands out in marked contrast, innocent of cruelty, convicted only of pity. In his own multifarious experiments we come upon no record of brutality, and, in reference to Magendie’s work, he does not fail to voice sympathy for ‘la pauvre béte,’ Magendie’s miserable victim.

   The fact of Béchamp having delved so much deeper into knowledge than his callous contemporaries may well be an instance of the advantage of not blunting a scientific mind by familiarity with cruelty. His imagination possessed to the end the pristine sensitiveness essential to the discoverer, and, spurred and stimulated by his wonderful health and vitality, age itself had no power to dull his intellect.

   It is no surprise that Pasteur’s crude germ theory should have displaced Béchamp’s deeper, more complex teaching, which was too demanding to become the immediate property of ‘the man in the street’. Pasteur, who might have worked with Béchamp, on the contrary plagiarised and distorted his ideas.

   It was Béchamp’s fate to meet with neglect and disparagement. Pursued, on the one side, by the jealousy of his less gifted but more successful rival, and, on the other, by narrow-minded men with no understanding of how the Creator can best be known through the study of Creation, persecution and bitterness of spirit were the earthly rewards of his long life of toil.
   Pasteur made a wise remark when he called upon the verdict of time to pass sentence on a scientist. As a matter of fact, Béchamp, with the assurance of genius, never lost hope in this final judgment. The
   Moniteur Scientifique tells us:

   “Those of his acquaintance who cared for him and were about him know that he never doubted that one day justice would be rendered him.”

   It is in this belief, and with this hope, that we have written down this story of a great plagiarism, and have tried to show the contrast between a successful world idol and an ignored genius to whom the world’s scientists – most of them unaware of the fact – are indebted for much of their knowledge.

   In closing, we hereby submit to the tribunal of public opinion the claims of Pierre Jacques Antoine Béchamp, embodied in this, a lost chapter of the history of biology.