Dissection Controversy

The Hui Min Medical School officially began its classes, with the government-appointed doctor Zhang Wenyuan personally overseeing the school’s affairs. The sound of books and lectures filled the school, creating a lively atmosphere, while Zhang Wenyuan was busy at his desk, his brush making a faint scratching sound on the paper as he meticulously reviewed documents.

Wei Lan, a model for surgeons, had been hired by the school as a part-time instructor. As soon as she entered the school, she hurried straight to Zhang Wenyuan’s office and got straight to the point: “Sir, I am here regarding the curriculum at the school.”

Zhang Wenyuan, hearing her voice, looked up from his work, placed his brush down, and gently blew on the ink marks, saying, “Please have a seat, Doctor Wei. What is it that you would like to discuss?”

Wei Lan did not hesitate, sitting down immediately and addressing the matter head-on. “Sir, I see that the school offers courses in internal medicine and pediatrics, but there is no course in surgical anatomy. Without a foundation in anatomy, surgery will only be superficial, and great practitioners cannot be made.”

Zhang Wenyuan furrowed his brow, thinking for a moment, then replied softly, “Doctor Wei, your idea is good, but anatomy is a delicate matter.”

Wei Lan, anxious, responded, “Sir, a surgeon saves lives with a knife. If they do not understand human anatomy, how is that any different from walking blindfolded over a cliff?”

“Li Renxin and the others are unfamiliar with the human body structure. Although I have created an anatomy chart by hand, they have never seen a real human body, and in practice, their skills are often full of flaws. What should we do?” As she spoke, Wei Lan took out a folded human anatomy chart and spread it across the desk.

Zhang Wenyuan stroked his goat beard and looked over the densely labeled chart, nodding slightly. “You are right, but the ‘Ling Shu: Intestines and Stomach’ has already recorded that ‘the stomach is one foot five inches long, and five inches in diameter.’ The ‘Nan Jing’ provides more detailed measurements of the five internal organs and six viscera. The students will simply need to study carefully to understand these details.”

Wei Lan, growing impatient, slammed her hand on the desk. “Sir, that’s not correct! Learning from books is too shallow! A surgeon learns through practice, not by reading or looking at pictures. If we don’t use cadavers for practice, are we supposed to practice on living people?”

Zhang Wenyuan’s face grew serious, and he spoke sternly, “Do you know what ‘Jiyi’ says? ‘Parents give birth to you complete, and children should return complete.’” He grabbed a copy of the “Great Ming Laws” from his desk and flipped through a few pages, pointing to a section. “See this ‘crime of mutilating a corpse’? It can result in eighty lashes or, in the worst case, exile for three thousand miles. This is no small matter.”

He pulled out a handkerchief from his sleeve and wiped the sweat from his forehead, adding, “Moreover, the art of dissection is no different from that of a butcher. ‘The Spring and Autumn Annals’ speaks of the cosmic connection between humans and the heavens. The human body’s 360 bones correspond to the celestial cycles. If you cut it open, you are disturbing the balance of yin and yang.”

“Dissecting the human body is an act of great disrespect. If we implement this in the school, it will stir up public outrage, and we may even face criticism from scholars. As government officials, we must be cautious in our actions.”

Wei Lan’s heart sank, but she remained resolute. “Then what about cesarean sections? Just last month, Madam Wang had difficulty giving birth, and the midwife followed my method to perform a C-section, but she accidentally cut the intestines. It’s because they’ve never seen an actual human body!”

Zhang Wenyuan’s voice grew cold, like a taut bowstring. “When I was younger, I observed the inquests in the Ministry of Justice. Even common folk are not allowed to examine corpses, let alone performing dissection in a school.”

“In the Eastern Jin Dynasty, after Tang Ci of Pei County died, his wife Zhang opened his abdomen to check the cause of death. She was sentenced for offending the deceased, and her son was punished for not stopping her. This view is deeply ingrained. If the school pushes for dissection, it will ignite public fury and could even be seen as desecrating the natural order.”

Wei Lan clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white. She recalled her time before she had traveled here, sitting in a dissection classroom, where the families of donors tearfully said, “Please use my father’s body to train more good doctors.” But now, her enthusiasm collided with the harsh wall of reality.

With a deep sense of disappointment, Wei Lan bit her lip and said, “If we can’t even teach dissection, how can we expect to train surgeons?”

Zhang Wenyuan shook his head, helpless. “This is a matter that cannot be decided hastily. For now, focus on teaching other courses at the school. When the time is right, we can discuss this further.”

Wei Lan paused for a moment, took a deep breath, and stood up. “I understand your dilemma. But if we don’t practice with real tools, surgeons will only be blindfolded when saving lives.” She cupped her hands in a salute and, without another word, turned and walked out, her robes swishing as they brushed past the books on the desk.

Zhang Wenyuan watched her leave, feeling a pang of sympathy, but the Confucian restraints on him were deeply embedded in his bones, preventing him from stepping over the line. He sighed and returned to his paperwork, but his mind was no longer at ease.

As dusk crept into the pharmacy storage of the school, the yellowish light fell upon the wooden shelves. Wei Lan was still busy checking her teaching tools. On the shelves were neatly arranged acupuncture mannequins, hand-painted meridian charts, and red-flowered sewn cloth dolls. The dissected cotton cloth “human bodies” had different-colored silks inside them, representing various organs.

Wei Lan’s fingers brushed over these teaching tools, filled with frustration. She knew there were many more obstacles to overcome in pushing for medical progress in this land. The shackles of Confucian thought and societal conventions loomed like mountains before her.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and thought of the dissection classrooms back in her time, the trusting eyes of the donor families, and her vow to use modern medicine to save more lives.