Caduceus News Reports

The Caduceus: Origins and Meanings

Although not everybody knows its name or how to pronounce it, most everybody can recognize the caduceus—that ubiquitous medical icon with the two snakes wrapping around a winged rod. (By the way, it’s pronounced “kah-DOO-shuss.”)
The caduceus is possibly one of the most ironic symbols ever invented—or more specifically, ever used. Although in modern times it is thought to represent compassion, life, science and other tenets of medicine and healthcare, the historic origins of its meanings present another story.

The Caduceus in Modern Times

The U.S. Army is often credited with making the caduceus the recognizable icon it is today. In 1902, the Army’s Medical Corps first started using it to recognize military physicians.
Prior to 1902, the caduceus’ history becomes a bit more uncertain. Although the caduceus had been used in general publishing in the 16th and 17th century, it wasn’t until the 19th century when it first appeared on a medical text. The reasons for either usage are firmly related to mythological symbolism.

The Caduceus: Echoes of Mythology

Printers in the 16th and 17th century related to the caduceus because of its connection to Hermes, the Greek messenger God. However, Hermes’ symbolic ties to medicine date back to the seventh century when scientists connected him to a then emerging interest in alchemy.
However, in mythology, Hermes is more often associated with two concepts that aren’t usually aren’t associated with modern medicine: magic and death. In mythology, Hermes would lead the dead to the underworld—precisely the opposite of what physicians try to do to their patients!

Asclepius: Snakes and Rods and the Caduceus

So, how did Hermes become associated with the snakes, rod and wings that make a caduceus? Again, the answer can be found in Greek mythology—this time with Asclepius, a Greek god of medicine.
The rod of Asclepius, which is also used by medical associations, features a single snake wrapped around a cypress branch. The snake represents rebirth; the branch represents strength.
It is thought that the rod of Asclepius evolved into the caduceus, inspired by Hermes’ seventh-century connection to alchemy. Although there isn’t much consensus about the meaning of the second snake, most agree that the winged rod (which replaced the branch) symbolized magic—yet another bizarre concept that has little relevance with modern medicine!

Dusted Reviews

Artist: Akira Rabelais

Album: Caduceus

Label: Samadhi Sound

Review date: Jan. 3, 2011 

As a recording, Caduceus is an engrossing experience. Processing and filtering his guitar with Argeïphontes Lyre -- his own set of audio, video and text filters -- Rabelais splinters and distorts the inherent instability and wildness of the electric guitar into exotic, fascinating shapes, then arranges those shapes into satisfying compositional arcs.

These pieces are much more than layered collections of guitar tracks, static and AM radio grabs; they’re the end result of a highly individual process of synthesis. Each of the 13 tracks here displays a deep understanding of dynamics, going beyond a more simplistic quiet/load dichotomy -- there’s real tension here. The louder, static-saturated passages are underpinned by subtle harmonic movement or pushed around the stereo field, giving new perspectives on what otherwise might be oblique blocks of sound. Meanwhile, the quieter parts highlight the danger that comes with fragility, the fear that something could break at any moment, as chiming, plucked notes threaten to disintegrate or expand.

Rabelais is unafraid to let moments of nearly unfiltered acoustic guitar emerge from the noise, and there’s a keen sense of theme throughout, if not outright melody. Rabelais finds ways to overwhelm with volume, density and harsh textures while at the same time lulling and soothing you with sensuous atmospherics. He’s found a way to scream and whisper at the same time.

But it’s as an album that Caduceus becomes problematic. By album I mean when you look at it as a whole: titles of pieces, the accompanying images and, to some extent, the presence (or non-presence) of Rabelais himself. His website is a cryptic collection of ideas and texts: the Oxford English Dictionary entry for the word love, the I-Ching, poetry fragments that link to other poems, colorful images detailing a kind of enigmatic domesticity and more. And it’s just this kind of enigma that haunts Caduceus. That’s probably how Rabelais intended it, to make listeners wrestle with a web of ideas and emotions, but it’s also what weighs the whole down. You get caught up in decoding it, in wondering if there’s a symbol or metaphor or some specific meaning hiding in it. When the music is this strong, all of these extra-curricular semiotics just distract. Rabelais’ musical ideas are deep enough and well-developed enough to provoke thought and evoke powerful images on their own.

By Matthew Wuethrich