Lie No. 1 : Pasteur is a Benefactor of Humanity

 - from ‘The Ten Biggest Lies about Vaccines’ by Sylvie Simon

Oct 2009

Translated by Emma Holister from 'Les 10 plus gros mensonges sur les vaccins'  


"Each and every problem we face today is the direct and inevitable result of yesterday's brilliant solutions." Henry Bergman

  Praise for Pasteur is heard across the world and he is considered to be one of the most prestigious heroes of humanity, a reference to be reckoned with.

  Although the story of vaccination began at the end of the 18th century when the English doctor Edward Jenner undertook to inoculate with cowpox, a disease specific to cows, in order to protect humans from smallpox, it is Pasteur (1822-1895) who remains the father of vaccination and it is with him that the long string of lies begins.

  This clever, brilliant, hard-working man was an expert communicator and kept up to date with the work of his peers. His tactics never changed; he knew how to recognise good ideas but would begin by openly criticising them, then would shamelessly appropriate them to himself, claiming to be the discoverer. It is in this way that he became the benefactor of humanity and, above all, an untouchable myth.

  And in April 2005, during a television programme that clearly illustrated the decline of information and cultural standards, he was represented as second only to Charles de Gaulle amongst the “greatest Frenchmen of all time”. Adding yet another to the lies surrounding Pasteur, Prof. Axel Kahn, member of the National Consultants Committee on French Ethics, Director of Research at Inserm and one of Pasteur's most faithful supporters, didn't hesitate to affirm that it was thanks to Pasteur that women no longer died of puerperal fever during childbirth. In reality this discovery belonged to the Hungarian doctor Ignace Semmelweis, who had observed that women no longer died when those assisting took hygiene precautions such as washing their hands. It is worth pointing out that he provoked ridicule amongst his colleagues and was unable to convince them despite clear evidence. They claimed that the statistics he'd published were false and faked and he was suspended. And it would seem that women in childbirth may possibly have been infected in an attempt to discredit the truth of this observation. A despairing Semmelweis committed suicide. His work, published in 1861, was only given recognition in 1890 and this delay cost lives. Revolted by the behaviour of Semmelweis’s colleagues, another doctor, this time a writer, Louis-Ferdinand Céline, hotly defended him in publishing his biography in 1937. Evidently Axel Kahn has not read it. It is clear therefore that the myth of Pasteur persists on a foundation of totally false assumptions, but that the public at large blindly believes it because they 'saw it on the television'.

However, numerous facts reported in perfectly authenticated texts, coming from those who were close to him or from historians such as Dr Lutaud, Dr Philippe Decourt, Dr Xavier Raspail, Adrien Loir, Ethyl Douglas Hume, Emile Duclaux, Gerald Geison and others, should suffice in pushing him from his pedestal. But the Pasteurian dogma is so deeply rooted in people's minds that nothing yet has been able to shake it and the French continue to idolise an imposter. It is forbidden, under pain of excommunication, to lay a finger on the man who vanquished rabies. And to date, as Pasteur is no longer here to pillage the work of his peers, it is others who pillage in his name.

The subject of vaccines is no different from the case of Pasteur: there is no end to the lies that are unveiled. I can therefore only suggest to readers that if they want to learn of them all, they should refer to the authors cited above and to Eric Ancelet's book 'Pour en finir avec Pasteur' ('To Finish with Pasteur'), which masterfully reveals what is hidden behind Pasteur’s character, in stark contrast to the idealised image that is portrayed officially.  

Pasteur doctored the results of experiments that turned out unfavourably for him, in the manner of a true forger, with the aid of his accomplices. And in order to gain honours and glory, he appropriated to himself various works of other researchers, including Antoine Béchamp (1816-1908), one of the greatest scientists of the nineteenth century, doctor, biologist, naturalist, professor in medical and pharmaceutical chemistry at the Faculty of Montpellier and professor of bio-chemistry and physics at the University of Paris, as well as Dean of the Free Faculty of Lille. Béchamp proved the veracity of Claude Bernard's views on the importance of the bodily terrain of each individual and was the first to understand the microbial cause of infectious pathologies.  

However, his work is virtually unheard of these days, because it was systematically discredited and falsified to the profit and personal interests of Pasteur.  

In June 1865, Pasteur was nominated by the government to study silkworm diseases, whereas Béchamp had already determined and published on the parasitic origin of pébrine (silkworm disease). Pasteur criticised the work of Béchamp, affirming that it was a matter of constitutional disease, that the small bodies (as they called microbes in those days) that Béchamp considered to be exogenous parasites, coming from the exterior, were only the diseased cells of the worm itself. In a letter addressed to a minister, Pasteur wrote: “It is an error to say that this disease is simply parasitic and not constitutional. In fact, I believe that these people (Béchamp and his co-worker) are insane. An unfortunate madness indeed that so compromises Science and the University with such culpable nonsense.”  

In 1868, Pasteur realised that Béchamp was right – and since that time the 'parasitic' theory has been recognised universally – But Pasteur declared to the Academy of Science and to the Minister of Agriculture that he had been the first to demonstrate the parasitic origin of pébrine that was “entirely unheard of before my research”. An unparalleled impudence.  

In 1870 he published an article on silkworm diseases that he dedicated to the Empress, as he had for a long time been cultivating relationships within the Imperial Court which allowed him to forge useful friendships with ministers and official representatives of foreign countries.  

At that time, Pasteur pronounced himself strongly “pro-Napoleon”, but after the fall of the Empire and the arrival of the Republic, he did an about-turn, as the 9th February 1983 edition of the journal Impact Médecin pointed out. He obtained via the Republican physiologist Paul Bert, a member of the budget commission, approval from the National Assembly of a payment of a 'national reward' in the form of a yearly salary of 12 000 francs – later raised to a salary of 25 000 francs – for having saved the silkworm industry.  

Indeed, Paul Bert, all-powerful at the time in government, ardently wished to be admitted to the Institute, which did not want in its ranks a man openly declaring his revolutionary and atheist ideas. According to Paul Bert, Pasteur sought him out and offered him a deal: he used his influence in the Academy of Science in order to get Paul Bert nominated, who in return guaranteed him the award of his salary. Which was effected, to the detriment of Davaine, for whom the chair at the Academy had been intended, and who consequently died, apparently of grief. Davaine, a friend and protector of Pasteur, also saw Pasteur attribute to himself part of his work.  

Pasteur was thus rewarded for his lie on 'parasitic' theory, so stripping Béchamp of a part of his work. He then plotted to make his adversary lose his post at the University.  

The 'soluble ferments' affair, that gave rise to a controversy in 1878 that lasted more than 18 months, between Pasteur and the chemist Berthellot, reveals a similar imposture, as Pasteur refused to recognise the evidence and held fast to his belief in the theory of spontaneous generation.


At school we are taught that Pasteur “saved the little Joseph Meister, bitten on the hand by a rabid dog”. In fact, it was uncertain as to whether or not the dog was actually infected with rabies; no other bite had been reported. Furthermore, even had it been, the risk for the young Meister would have been small, as an animal that is genuinely infected with rabies – which is extremely rare – transmits the disease in only 5 to 15% of cases.  

The rabies affair is a perfect example of Pasteur's lies being repeated and introduced by his admirers into the collective memory, to the point of becoming truth to the average mortal. Contrary to what we are taught, the anti-rabies vaccine was not created by Pasteur but by Henri Toussaint, professor at the Veterinary School of Toulouse, and whose name has not left its mark on history. This man succeeded in reducing the virulence of the virus by heating the preparation and adding to it an antiseptic.  

Pasteur's vaccine, based on dessicated marrow, was very dangerous and was soon abandoned, and the young Meister was very fortunate to have escaped it. Moreover, Pasteur's collaborator, Emile Roux, had surmised that the application of the Pasteur vaccine was too dangerous and he refused to be associated with the first trials of the so-called “intensive-treatment”, consisting of several injections over a period of twelve days.  

The most characteristic aspect of Pasteur's and his collaborators' dishonesty was the story of a twelve-year-old child who died from the effects of the vaccination adminstered by Pasteur. The young Edouard Rouyer was bitten on 8th October 1886 by an unknown dog. Pasteur inoculated him with his vaccine using the intensive method and on 26th October the child died. A legal enquiry was opened to determine the cause of his death and Professor Brouardel was put in charge of it. This man, a high-ranking official richly endowed with titles, was a friend of Pasteur's.  

In Emile Roux's laboratory, they inoculated a part of the child's brain stem into rabbits' brains and, several days later, the rabbits died of rabies. But Brouardel, in agreement with Roux, decided to submit a false witness statement before a justice, to hide the truth. It was a question of avoiding official recognition of a failure that would entail, as Brouardel put it, “an immediate jump backwards of fifty years in the development of science”, as well as the dishonouring of Pasteur, as Philippe Decourt recounts in “The Undesirable Truth, the Case of Pasteur”. The report submitted to the procurer contained a monumental lie:  

“The two rabbits are today, 9th January 1887, in good health, that is to say forty-two days after the inoculations. The negative results of the inoculations performed with the brain stem of this child allow us to dismiss the hypothesis that the young Rouyer succumbed to rabies.” Pasteur declared that the child had died of uraemia.  

Not satisfied with falsifying the facts, Pasteur and his two accomplices, Roux and Brouardel, set about silencing their opponents who knew the truth. Brouardel even went so far as to affirm that of the fifty people treated with the intensive inoculations, no one had died.  

In 1886, in France as abroad, the deaths officially counted amongst the failures of Pasteur's method had already risen to seventy-four: forty foreigners and thirty-four French people. Some died showing symptoms of classic rabies, others succumbed to a new condition that was called “laboratory rabies”. These showed symptoms of a rabid form of paraplegia that had been observed in rabbits being used in the culture of the Pasteurian virus (La Méthode Pasteur contre la rage par le Docteur Xavier Raspail 1888). Moreover, Pasteur himself pointed out that during the period of 9th November 1885 to 30th December 1886, out of the eighteen vaccinated of those infected, nine died within the three weeks following the bite.  

In the month of March 1886, Pasteur declared to Dr Navarre: “From now on I will not permit the questioning of my theories and my method; I will not tolerate anyone coming and overseeing my experiments.” Thus Pasteur initiated the now institutionalised scientific lie, proffered with impudence by men of science haloed with an usurped prestige.  

History has noted only the success of this vaccine, but neglects to mention that it had multiplied the deaths from rabies. In fact, far from triumph, it was a failure, because no one was ever able to prove its efficacy; first of all because it was practically impossible to demonstrate proof that the accused dogs were ill with rabies and second, because the number of those vaccinated who died was too high for anyone to want to take register it. Léon Daudet told of the dreadful deaths of six Russian land labourers bitten by a wolf and then vaccinated by Pasteur (Souvenirs des milieux littéraires, politiques, artistiques et médicaux de 1880 – 1905). On this issue, the writer protested at the time against what he called “la nouvelle morticoli” (French play on words, 'the new death') and wrote a series of articles on the subject.  

As for Prof. Michel Peter, of the Academy of Medicine, he angrily criticised Pasteur's methods and wrote to Dr Lutaud, editor-in-chief of the Journal de médecine de Paris: “I agree with you on all points: the medication of Mr Pasteur, the so-called protector from rabies, is both an error and a hazard.” For this eminent member of the Academy of Medicine, it was for reasons “little to do with science” that Pasteur was going to such pains to make people believe in the frequency of rabies. Indeed, Pasteur then conjured up hundreds of cases of rabies that could put lives in mortal danger.  

“Now, rabies in humans is a rare disease, very rare: I have seen two cases of it in thirty-five years of hospital and civil practice, and all my hospital colleagues, in the town, as in the countryside, can count in single units and not in dozens (less still in hundreds) the cases of human rabies that they’ve observed. In order to exaggerate the benefits of his method and to mask his lack of success, Mr Pasteur has a vested interest in making people believe that there is a higher rate of mortality in France from rabies. But this is in no way in the interest of truth.” This procedure based on fear would be taken up again later by the laboratories manufacturing vaccines and by their accomplices.  

In addition, before his peers at the Academy, Prof. Peter accused Pasteur not only of having increased the incidence of rabies but of having “provoked cases of paralytic and even convulsive rabies”, rather than having made it disappear completely, as he had pompously announced. “The method of Mr Pasteur could not be less considered from the viewpoint of anaylsing the cases of death, the clinical analysis indicating that a certain number of these fatal cases are due to the Pasteurian inoculations, which explains the rise in deaths from rabies in humans.” Prof. Peter concluded: “Mister Pasteur does not cure rabies, he spreads it!” 


It was in such a way, thanks to countless lies, that rabies became Pasteur's first great triumph, but before that there was the vaccine against anthrax, a disease that was ravaging livestock.  

At the time, Pasteur firmly set up his theories in opposition to those of Henri Toussaint, who had discovered the inoculable nature of anthrax and the possibility of vaccinating against this disease with weakened cultures. Pasteur claimed Toussaint's procedure was ineffective and dangerous, and that his own vaccine was superior. In order to prove it, he authorised an experiment which took place on 28th August 1881 at Pouilly-le-Fort, near Melun.  

Fifty sheep were selected of which only twenty five were vaccinated. All fifty were inoculated fifteen days later with the virulent strain of anthrax. Pasteur affirmed that the non-vaccinated sheep would die and the others would survive.  

On the day of the experiment Pasteur confided in his collaborators that he was going to use, not his vaccine, but Toussaint's, which contained an antiseptic that reduced the virulence of the anthrax bacteria.  

For a long time Pasteur had tried in vain to obtain this reduction using oxygen from the air. The sheep received the vaccine that Toussaint had developed to which potassium bichromate had been added, a powerful poison that kills microbes, but which induces cancer. Evidently no one was going to worry about the cancers that the sheep would later develop. As predicted, the twenty-five sheep who had received the vaccine diluted by potassium bichromate survived. It was a triumph for Pasteur and everyone believed once again that it was 'his vaccine' and not Toussaint’s antiseptic that had saved the sheep.  

Pasteur's own nephew, Adrien Loir, reported these facts in detail in a work entitled 'In the Shadow of Pasteur' but few people have read it and even fewer today know that the Pouilly-le-Fort experiment was nothing more than a lamentable confidence trick.  

Prof. Peter judged the anthrax vaccine quite as severely as the rabies one and reported to Dr Lutaud the results of the vaccinations used from 10th August 1888 at the Odessa Institute of Bacteriology where “following Paris' example, the vaccine is made in accordance to Mr Pasteur's model”. Indeed, an anti-anthrax vacine, made in Odessa and sent to Kachowka in central Russia, consequently brought about no fewer than 3,696 deaths out of the 4,561 sheep vaccinated and amongst the 1,582 ewes inoculated, 1,075 were killed by the inoculation, that is, 61%.  

Prof. Peter comments also on another inoculation used on the flocks at the Spendrianow farm: “The first flock consisted of neutered sheep aged between 1, 2 and 3 years old, a total of 1,478, and the other 1,058, younger and older. . . Out of 4,564 sheep vaccinated, only 868 survived the inoculation, that is, 19%. This is what they are calling 'preventive inoculations'!” which could be added to the list of Pasteur's customary hoaxes. His methods were always the same. While denouncing the methods of others, he'd finish by appropriating them to himself and so manage to crown himself with glory.  

In a 250-page thesis on Antoine Béchamp, Marie Nonclercq, doctor of pharmacy, explains the clear advantage that Pasteur had over Béchamp: “He was a falsifier of experiments and their results, where he wanted the outcomes to be favourable to his initial ideas. The falsifications committed by Pasteur now seem incredible to us. On deeper examination, however, the facts were in opposition to the ideas developed by Pasteur in the domain of bacteriology . . . Pasteur wilfully ignored the work of Béchamp, one of the greatest 19th-century French scientists whose considerable work in the fields of chemical synthesis, bio-chemistry and infectious pathology is almost totally unrecognised today, because it had been systematically falsified, denigrated, for the personal profit of an illustrious personage (Pasteur) who had, contrary to Béchamp, a genius for publicity and what today we call 'public relations. . .'”  

An American historian of science, Gerald Geison, from the University of Princeton, for twenty years studied Pasteur's laboratory notes, until that date kept secret on the orders of Pasteur himself. He eventually communicated the result of his research to the annual Congress of the AAAS (American Association for the Advancement of Science), and the English paper The Observer published it on 14th Februrary 1993. The following week, the medical magazine Science denounced what it called “The Pasteurian Deception”.  

If this bickering between scientists had little consequence, one might consider it of only relative importance, but it was a far more serious issue for that era, for the industrial revolution was under way and opening up a matter of considerable economic stakes: that of the vaccine industry.  

Between 1869 and 1872, Pasteur expounded three erroneous basic postulates that are still used today as the foundation of vaccination. The first put forward that asepsis reigns amongst our cells: the cell is clean, all microbes are exogenous (they come from outside) and attack it, and these germs have an existence that is independent from living organisms. The second is that each illness corresponds to a specific agent, microbial or viral, against which one can protect oneself, thanks to vaccines; the illness has one cause alone, therefore one remedy alone. Finally, immunity is aquired by the production of antibodies in response to the introduction of antigens via the vaccine and these antibodies give protection.  

It has been well known for some time that these postulates are false, the latest discoveries in immunology contradict them totally. However, the vaccinators feign ignorance of these studies. If each germ provoked an illness, life on Earth would be long gone. Pasteur was wrong, but in this case he is forgiven, it was a simple case of human error.  

What was less forgivable was his animosity towards Béchamp, the founder of enzymology, who was able to identify minute corpuscles smaller than cells, microzymas. These microzymas are the elements that are truly responsible for life, whether human, animal or vegetable. Microzymas can span centuries but are also able to evolve throughout time. In humans, their form varies according to the general state of the terrain they inhabit and from which they feed. They are as constructive as they are destructive, capable as they are of transforming, mutating and evolving. Had this theory of polymorphism been recognised it would have shaken to its foundation our perception of health and disease. When an imbalance disrupts the normal functioning of microzymas – malnutrition, poisoning, physical or emotional stress – the microzyma transforms into a pathogenic germ, in other words a microbe, and illness follows. From this perspective, all that is necessary is to reinforce the health of the person in order for the internal pathogenic germs to regain their original form and their protective function.  

Thanks to his theory, Béchamp was able to take census of bacteria that were several million years old. The polymorphism of microzymas can therefore transform them into viruses, bacteria, mycelium, prions or other, as yet unknown, organisms. But they can also set off the opposite process and transform back into basic microzymas. This research prompted Béchamp to judge vaccination as an outrage, because “It neglects the microzymas' own independent vitality within the organism.”  

In brief, for Pasteur the microbe is the origin of disease, for Béchamp it is the disease that permits the microbe to express itself. This duality of standpoints has lasted officially for more than 100 years. On his deathbed, Pasteur was said to have affirmed that it was Claude Bernard who was right, that the microbe was nothing and the terrain was everything. Indeed, if the microbe were the only agent responsible, how could it be explained that nurses treating tuberculosis were not contaminated whilst other people who were far less exposed to the bacillus rapidly fell ill? Claude Bernard, in pondering this question, came to develop the idea of receptivity to disease, admitting that there must be an innate or acquired tendency to develop certain pathologies.  

And Prof. Jean Bernard is not far from adhering to this theory when he asks the question: “If, in the fight against cancer, we have not advanced as fast as in other domains, it is probably because we have been too attached to the theories of Pasteur. . . These viruses, are they really outside ourselves? Might they not in fact come from our own damaged organisms?”  

In his work 'The Crack in the World', André Glucksmann attempts to explain the Pasteurian illusions: “The vanity of Pasteurism reveals - more than a certain science and less than an effective art - a religion. Pasteur has transposed into terms of biopower the constitutive equation of modern nations, cujus regio, ejus religio.” (As goes the country, so goes the religion.)