Once again, my research led me to a place I truly enjoy research, kids!
While once more digging deeper into the life of our dear Koch, I discovered that he was married twice, to two different women. His first marriage was to Emmy Fraatz in 1867, a union that ended in divorce some years later. In 1893, he married again, this time to Hedwig Freiberg, who was twenty-nine years younger than him.
I went out of my way to learn more about the marriage between Koch and Hedwig because I had hoped—perhaps naïvely—that Koch would turn out to be better than other married scientists I had read about. And yet, to my disappointment, nothing really changes. Apparently, scientists are among the worst possible people to be in a relationship with. One day, I may even make a list of the top five worst scientists in history for a stable and healthy marriage.
Despite everything, I was still taken aback when I read that Koch was introspective and—believe it or not—a difficult husband. Fortunately, he was not as horrifying as J. Marion Sims, the so-called father of gynecology, who turned family life into a cold clinical nightmare; nor as cruel as Fritz Haber, who forced his wife—Germany’s first woman to earn a doctorate in chemistry—to abandon her studies and career in order to serve him as a housewife.
Faced with such horrors, one might conclude that Koch was merely questionable, yet tolerable in daily life. Unfortunately, the story worsens. Robert Koch was well known for conducting experiments on his own wife—not physical experiments, but emotional ones. Another troubling fact is that he abandoned his first wife, who had supported him despite everything, even while living surrounded by glass tubes and chemical fumes, in order to be with a seventeen-year-old model—Hedwig Freiberg. At the time, this caused a major scandal.
I write this to show that, once again, after quick research and well-read books, I am forced to conclude that all scientists—or at least a large majority of them—are completely mad and deeply questionable. I admire them all, yet I cannot ignore how socially repugnant many of them were, even if I understand this as part of the scientific stereotype.
At times, I find myself wondering: Must I become so obsessed with science that I grow cruel to the people around me, all in the name of producing “good” research? I hope that to be an intelligent, well-informed scientist—perhaps even one worthy of a Nobel Prize—I will not need to become socially repellent as so many before me were.
Once again, I am left asking: does science truly need to be this cruel?
While once more digging deeper into the life of our dear Koch, I discovered that he was married twice, to two different women. His first marriage was to Emmy Fraatz in 1867, a union that ended in divorce some years later. In 1893, he married again, this time to Hedwig Freiberg, who was twenty-nine years younger than him.
I went out of my way to learn more about the marriage between Koch and Hedwig because I had hoped—perhaps naïvely—that Koch would turn out to be better than other married scientists I had read about. And yet, to my disappointment, nothing really changes. Apparently, scientists are among the worst possible people to be in a relationship with. One day, I may even make a list of the top five worst scientists in history for a stable and healthy marriage.
Despite everything, I was still taken aback when I read that Koch was introspective and—believe it or not—a difficult husband. Fortunately, he was not as horrifying as J. Marion Sims, the so-called father of gynecology, who turned family life into a cold clinical nightmare; nor as cruel as Fritz Haber, who forced his wife—Germany’s first woman to earn a doctorate in chemistry—to abandon her studies and career in order to serve him as a housewife.
Faced with such horrors, one might conclude that Koch was merely questionable, yet tolerable in daily life. Unfortunately, the story worsens. Robert Koch was well known for conducting experiments on his own wife—not physical experiments, but emotional ones. Another troubling fact is that he abandoned his first wife, who had supported him despite everything, even while living surrounded by glass tubes and chemical fumes, in order to be with a seventeen-year-old model—Hedwig Freiberg. At the time, this caused a major scandal.
I write this to show that, once again, after quick research and well-read books, I am forced to conclude that all scientists—or at least a large majority of them—are completely mad and deeply questionable. I admire them all, yet I cannot ignore how socially repugnant many of them were, even if I understand this as part of the scientific stereotype.
At times, I find myself wondering: Must I become so obsessed with science that I grow cruel to the people around me, all in the name of producing “good” research? I hope that to be an intelligent, well-informed scientist—perhaps even one worthy of a Nobel Prize—I will not need to become socially repellent as so many before me were.
Once again, I am left asking: does science truly need to be this cruel?
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