The Dangers of Abusing Knowledge - A modern take on Frankenstein (Modern Prometheus) by Mary Shelley
The Myth of Prometheus, a cautionary tale.
We all know the tale of Frankenstein, the doctor who created life, and once he saw the horrible face of the monster, he abandoned it, leaving it to suffer the cruelty of the world.
Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein is not just a gothic horror novel; it is a warning. It is a philosophical exploration of knowledge, power, and responsibility that remains hauntingly relevant in our age of rapid technological advancement. It is no coincidence that Shelley subtitled her novel The Modern Prometheus. The allusion to the Greek myth is intentional and profound, urging us to consider the consequences of unrestrained ambition and the misuse of knowledge.
In Greek mythology, Prometheus defied the gods to give humanity fire—a symbol of knowledge, power, and progress. For his transgression, he was punished eternally. Similarly, Victor Frankenstein, armed with the fire of scientific discovery, takes on the role of a creator, fashioning life from death. Yet, unlike Prometheus, who acted out of a desire to aid humanity, Frankenstein acts out of personal ambition, seeking to transcend human limitations without considering the ethical ramifications. And once his experiment succeeds, once his creature opens its yellow, watery eyes, Frankenstein is horrified by his own creation. He abandons it, not because of a failure in function but because of an aesthetic failure—because his creature is ugly.
Herein lies one of the novel’s most poignant critiques of power. We often assume that those who possess knowledge or wield power do so with wisdom and responsibility, but Frankenstein dismantles this assumption. The doctor is not a wise Prometheus, guiding humanity to progress, but rather an irresponsible creator who cannot bear the consequences of his own actions. His failure is not in the creation of life but in his refusal to nurture it, to take responsibility for what he has done. The creature, cast aside and left to navigate a world that despises him, becomes a monster not because of his nature but because of the way he is treated. He seeks companionship, understanding, and love, but when rejected at every turn, he turns to vengeance. Shelley forces us to ask: Who is truly the monster here?
The novel’s exploration of power and responsibility resonates now more than ever. Today, we have our own versions of Frankenstein’s fire: artificial intelligence, genetic engineering, nuclear power. The question is no longer whether we can push the boundaries of creation but whether we should, and how we will handle the consequences. Like Frankenstein, we are advancing at an unprecedented rate, yet our ethical understanding and responsibility often lag behind. We create technologies that can alter human life, yet do we consider the ramifications? Do we, like Frankenstein, abandon our creations when they no longer serve our purpose?
Moreover, Frankenstein forces us to confront our own biases and prejudices. The creature, despite his intelligence and capacity for love, is judged solely by his appearance. His rejection by society is not because he lacks humanity but because he does not conform to its standards. This raises a deeply uncomfortable question: How often do we judge people, ideas, or creations based on aesthetics rather than substance? How often do we, like the villagers who drove the creature away, reject what we do not understand?
Shelley’s novel remains a cautionary tale, reminding us that knowledge and power, without responsibility, can lead to destruction. Whether in science, technology, or society, our actions have consequences, and the way we treat those consequences defines our humanity.
And, if nothing else, Frankenstein gives us one more invaluable gift—the right to be pedantic about the fact that Frankenstein is the scientist, not the monster. Because in the end, perhaps the true monster is the one who refuses to take responsibility for what he has created.