We may know about the severe birth defects that thalidomide caused when taken by pregnant women between 1957 and 1961—defects borne by the survivors (though many pregnancies affected by this "epidemic" did not reach term due to complications incompatible with life). But we often overlook how decisively this crisis transformed and improved drug safety protocols for every medication marketed today. And we know far too little about the ongoing struggle of some survivors—now in their sixties, their early lives marked by rejection, abandonment, and shame in a society that saw no possibility for "happiness" in their bodily difference—to win recognition and compensation from the Italian state for the harm they suffered.
In the manner of a multifaceted essay touching on scientific, historical, cultural, and social dimensions, the podcast Pharmakon (Greek for remedy, medicine—but also poison) offers the proper space and proper time to examine the vast and contradictory implications that thalidomide has carried—and continues to carry, given its recent effective use as an immunomodulator—for all our lives. This under-shared content found its way to light through a crowdfunding campaign backed by roughly 350 donors.
Among the newest media for sharing information and content across diverse genres, podcasts are recorded radio programs available online for listeners to use whenever they have time and access. They represent an increasingly vital means of reaching culture, information, and entertainment thanks to new technologies.
The thalidomide crisis marked a point of no return for countless ethical questions, and it prompted a crucial awareness for someone whose story matters deeply to Fede e Luce itself. Marie Hélène Mathieu, a young educator specializing in intellectual disability, was profoundly shaken by what became known as the Liège trial (discussed at length in one of the podcast's episodes).
«In this Belgian city,» Mathieu recounts in Never Alone Again (Jaca Book, 2012), «a little girl named Corinne, born without limbs, was killed by her parents. Both were acquitted, and as they left the courthouse, the crowd carried them off in triumph. For the public, it was a shock. In Belgium, France, and other countries, various public figures and countless ordinary people expressed their alarm at the future of a society where respect for human life could be so brazenly trampled. Voices rose in every medium to recall the unique and sacred character of every human being. Yet it was equally clear that the parents had been left utterly alone to face such a tragedy. How could one affirm the dignity of every human life without simultaneously accompanying, supporting, and caring for families burdened with the terrible responsibility of welcoming and raising a child like little Corinne?»
This very question cut to the heart of young Marie Hélène. Only after refusing an invitation to lead a secular foundation supporting thalidomide-affected children, and after consulting her spiritual guide—the mystic Marthe Robin—did she direct all her efforts toward founding the Office Chrétienne des Handicapés in Paris, and later Foi et Lumière, which would spread around the world. Small drops perhaps, but vital signs for countless lives and sources of the awareness each of us needs to ask ourselves the right questions.