The word "monster" comes from the Latin " monstrum ," a term with a strong religious connotation: it was used to denote a prodigy, a supernatural event, or a sign from the gods. The word derives from the verb "monere " (to warn, to admonish), which in turn comes from "moneie" (to make one think of, to remind), itself formed from the root "men" (to think). Words like "demonstrate" or "admonish" share the same root.

The use of "monster" that is probably more common to us, referring to prodigious or large animals or to people of great cruelty or observed with horror because of their physical or moral deformity, was actually introduced in the 16th century.

When we try to find a definition of "monster," the diverse meanings and references point to the difficulty of capturing a possible essence common to all uses of the term that would allow us to analyze the concept in its connection to the idea of ​​failure. The different meanings offered by the dictionary of the Royal Spanish Academy ("2. Fantastic being that causes fright, 3. Something excessively large or extraordinary in any way") point to this diversity, but at the same time allow us to glimpse a common thread among them all, since in some way, all the meanings seem to be subordinate to the first: "1. Being that presents notable anomalies or deviations with respect to its species."

Claude Kappler, in his work *Monsters, Demons, and Marvels at the End of the Middle Ages* , seems to have found this unifying key that underlies every attempt at definition: the monster is always defined in relation to the norm. Thus, what is monstrous will always depend on how the norm is defined, and it is precisely the diversity of definitions of what is considered normative or normal that leads us to encounter the vast plurality of entities and beings classified as monsters throughout history.

This idea of ​​the monstrous as a deviation from the norm can be traced back to Aristotle. In his work *On the Reproduction of Animals* , he already speaks of the monster as a phenomenon that goes against "the generality of cases," but not against nature considered in its entirety. This idea is fascinating, as it brings us closer to the paradox that the monstrous shares with the concept of failure: the initial moment of aberration, error , or despair is reversed upon detecting its undeniable necessity in the general order of things. The monster, like all failure, is in its exceptionality natural and essential in any attempt to understand nature and humanity.

Aristotle's notion of the monster is particularly interesting to us because of its breadth, far greater than that of modern thought. In his reflections on the reproduction of animals, Aristotle presents the reproduction of living beings as the result of a kind of struggle between form and matter, in which the victory of form allows for the identity of the embryo with its progenitor. This identification ( omalos : similar, equal) is considered the ideal or the norm, such that any anomaly ( an : privative prefix), any difference between progenitor and offspring, transforms the latter into a monstrosity, insofar as Nature has exceeded the limits of the original form. It is evident, and Aristotle himself acknowledges this, that this monstrosity or difference is vital for the continuation of the species and of life in general.

One final crucial point to highlight regarding Aristotle's thinking on the monster as something different is that it, like any exception or deviation from the general rule, not only constitutes a natural phenomenon but also responds directly to the natural order: "Nature does not act by chance," Aristotle tells us; it does nothing without a purpose, even if that purpose is unknowable to us. The transformation of this characterization of the monster can be illustrated by the etymological distance between anomaly, as I mentioned earlier, from the Greek ἀνωμαλία ( an-omalos ), meaning anomaly , and abnormal, from the Latin ( a- : privative prefix and the Latin word norma : rule). This second etymology introduces a different weight to the monster, bringing us closer to a possible political dimension of this figure, which we will discuss later. Thus, the monster comes to occupy a precarious balance between the different and the forbidden, a balance that persists to this day.

Although we might be inclined to think that this transformation in the perception of the monster as something cursed, forbidden, or scandalous took hold in the Middle Ages, it can be argued that it is actually a typically modern association. Kapler supports this idea based on his observations of Hieronymus Bosch's work. Paintings such as The Garden of Earthly Delights or The Temptation of Saint Anthony were fully accepted and applauded in his time. His paintings were not only valued but also understood, and we find examples of contemporary critics who rejected the idea that Bosch could be considered a heretic or delusional artist. This is the case of Felipe de Guevara, who, around 1560, argued in his commentaries on Bosch's work that these monstrous representations also correspond to a natural order and their sole purpose is to depict infernal scenes.

One thing I dare say about Bosch is that he never painted anything outside of nature in his life, except for subjects of hell or purgatory, as I have mentioned. His inventions consisted of seeking out the strangest but most natural things […]

It is true, and anyone who diligently observes the works of Bosco will see that he was extremely observant of decorum, and that he carefully guarded the limits of nature, much more so than any other of his art.

Thus, in the Middle Ages, authors like Saint Augustine revisited the Aristotelian idea to address the theological problem of the existence of monsters, as they seemed to confront humanity with the Creator's error. Saint Augustine points out that this is solely due to a narrow view of the universe, to human ignorance that presents as exceptions or errors cases that actually correspond to the perfect reason of Creation in its entirety. "Who would be foolish enough to think that the Creator has erred, when he does not know why He has done so?"

Thus, from the 12th century onward, monstrous races were considered the fruits of God's will, and monsters themselves were seen as "moral prodigies." Bestiaries began to emerge, incorporating these marvels with a distinctly allegorical meaning.

Having presented this brief introduction on the origin and early evolution of the concept of “monster”, with the aim of delving deeper into the link between the monstrous and failure we can establish a distinction between the use of the term applied to the study, from a scientific perspective, of anomalous cases or deviations from nature and, on the other hand, the use of “monster” in its relation to the supernatural order.

Regarding the first case, we find the monster as the object of study of teratology, a term derived from the Greek θερατος, theratos (monster). This branch of medicine, which dates back to the 14th century, dealt with the study of anomalies and malformations in animal and plant organisms, especially those of embryonic origin. Fortunio Liceti, professor of natural philosophy and medicine, published De Monstruorum Causis Natura et Differentiis in Padua in 1616 , documenting cases of human and animal monsters from Antiquity to the 17th century. He maintains that the name "monsters" comes from the fact that "their novelty and enormity cause them to be regarded with as much admiration as surprise and astonishment."

This link between the monster and surprise deserves a brief digression, as it places the monster in a crucial position in the development of human thought. Already in the Theaetetus, Plato presents surprise or wonder as the origin of philosophical thought. The monster, as a surprising being, functions as a mirror that holds up a certainty about our way of observing and knowing reality: in the presence of the monster, a distance becomes apparent between what I expected to see and what I see, between what I believe and what is actually the case. Ultimately, between what is permitted and what is possible. To have this capacity for surprise, it is necessary to grasp this distance, to understand that there is a difference between what is presented to me and the norm through which we tend to incorporate facts of the world into our body of beliefs. Again, we find here the role of the monster as an essential figure for the natural functioning of human beings, in this case from an epistemological perspective.

Returning to teratology, monstrosity is presented as an anomaly distinct from disease, injury, or amputation. For this reason, it is often linked to embryonic development. The type of distance from the norm produced by disease differs from that of the monstrous, as the latter is more intimately connected to the individual's identity, appearing at the germinal stage when the individual has not yet fully formed.

Teratology introduces a negative connotation to the monster, which, as we have seen, does not appear in its etymology. A deviation from the most common anatomical or physiological conditions in the human species is not necessarily negative or incompatible with any vital function, although this often occurs. However, the pathologization of these unusual cases negatively connotes the figure of the monster as an error, a deficiency, or a failure of nature.

It is precisely this teratological use of the monster that Foucault employs in *The Abnormal* for his inquiry into the monster, which is and can only be human, since the term "monster" is a legal notion that alludes to a violation of the laws of nature or society. The monster is the one who calls the law into question, presenting himself as the impossible or the forbidden. In his proposal, the moment of the monster as a legal-biological concept, that is, as a transgression against nature, is transformed in the 18th century into a legal-moral concept: the transgression is now political. The political monster is the one who is outside the social contract, whether the sovereign who, by his very condition, is outside or above it, or the common criminal who, subject to this contract, voluntarily decides to break it.

The monster—despite the limiting position it occupies, even though it is simultaneously the impossible and the forbidden—is a principle of intelligibility. And yet, this principle of intelligibility is a truly tautological principle, because the monster's defining characteristic is precisely its assertion as such, its ability to explain within itself all the deviations that may derive from it, while remaining in itself unintelligible. (Foucault, 1974-75)

Let us now turn to the analysis of the monster in its relation to the supernatural. The starting point must be the link between the monstrous and pre-signification, since this is the first thing we detect in the etymology of the term, as we glimpsed at the beginning. We find this etymological link between the monster and “display”/“ostentation” made explicit in Cicero’s work On the Nature of the Gods , in which we read:

In reality, the ability to predict or intuit what will happen, what else does it manifest, if not that, for the benefit of men, events can 'appear', 'show themselves', 'come forward' and 'be predicted' (which is why they are spoken of as 'apparitions', 'monsters', 'portenuses' and 'prodigies')?

In the notes to his Spanish translation, Ángel Escobar states that Cicero uses monstrum , ostentum , portentum , and prodigium practically as synonyms. This same definition is adopted by Saint Augustine in The City of God and Saint Isidore of Seville in his Etymologies.

This connection between the monster and predestination can be traced back to the vision of the monster as a messenger of the gods, found in the accounts of authors like Megasthenes, whose writings have not survived but are referenced in the work of Pliny, or in Strabo, or to the vision of the monster as an aberrant creation banished by the divine, but which in turn plays a decisive role in the fulfillment of humanity's destiny, as a figure of chaos vanquished to give way to creation. This is the case with the biblical Leviathan, about which we read in Job 41: “Your hope is in vain, for its very sight terrifies! 2. No one dares rouse it, and who can stand against it? 3. Who has faced it and been saved? No one under the canopy of heaven!”

We also find in the Mesopotamian religious tradition and in the Hindu tradition cosmogonies such as the Enuma Elis or the Rigveda that associate the monstrous with the moment when a divine entity is corrupted or separated from its supernatural power, which is a crucial fact for the creation of the cosmos, through its sacrifice.

In the art world, the 1506 discovery of the architectural group "Laocoön and His Sons" by Giuliano da Sangallo and Michelangelo, identified as the sculpture described by Pliny the Elder in his Natural History and sculpted in the 1st century BC, profoundly influenced the history of art. Part of this influence involved the popularization of the creation of sculptural groups and paintings depicting monsters.

The myth described in Virgil's Aeneid presents the serpents as sea monsters (Porces and Caribea) sent as divine punishment for the attempt to destroy the Trojan Horse. The role of the monsters sent as a warning from the gods is especially clear in the fact that the death of the sons is unavoidable, but it does not seem clear that the death of Laocoön himself was necessary.

A clear example is Michelangelo's bronze serpent, located in the pendentives of the Sistine Chapel, which depicts a biblical scene (Numbers 21) in which the serpent is also sent as punishment against the Israelites. It is also evident in El Greco's Laocoön and His Sons , and its influence can be found in artistic movements that celebrate the monstrous in contrast to objective representations of the world.

In Dante's Inferno , we find numerous monstrous beings from both pagan and Christian traditions. To introduce this heterogeneity of monstrous figures into a structured, logical order, Dante employs specific markers of monstrosity which, when combined, allow him to maintain the monster's identity and adapt it to Hell. Here again, as we noted in the cases of Saint Augustine and Bosch, we find the monstrous serving the purpose of reinforcing order and doctrine. Dante neutralizes its scandalous component by using the monster as a warning against the dangers of sin, thus reinforcing the idea of ​​divine omnipotence.

Perhaps the intermediate cases between the aberration of nature and the supernatural creature are particularly interesting: the monster as man's failure in his attempt to become God.

A prime example of this is the legend of the Golem, found in medieval folklore and Jewish mythology. It is an animated being, crafted by humans from a basic raw material, usually clay or mud, which transforms into an imitation of a human being. The word golem is used in the Bible to refer to an incomplete substance, in an embryonic state. In modern Hebrew, the name derives from the word gelem (גלם, gelem ), meaning matter.

We find this legend beautifully reflected in Gustav Meyrink's novel The Golem (1915) and in Borges' poem (1958) of the same name, in which the Golem is presented as 'a man in training'.

This fable presents the inexorable failure to which any attempt to grant humankind the power denied them by the gods is doomed. The monster represents the inevitable failure that haunts every human endeavor to overstep its bounds. In a similar sense, we can consider the representation of wondrous creatures on maps of the world beyond already explored regions, such as the Hereford map (1290).

This link between the monster and the failure to create life has another paradigmatic example in Mary Shelley's Frankenstein ; or, The Modern Prometheus. The monster is presented to us as the result of humanity's quest for a power unattainable. In this same context, we can consider Goya's etching "The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters," which, beyond possible interpretations of reason as a conjurer of monsters or as the antithesis of the fantastic, shows us the moment of the monster's internalization and the subject's role as creator of the monstrous.

It is worth considering how the very genesis of humankind is represented in the same way in the Judeo-Christian tradition. It is only the difference in the type of creative hand that distinguishes humankind from the monster—that is, something completely alien to human will. It is significant how, in all uses of the term, it is always attributed to the individual from the outside. Just as with failure, the appropriation of the term by the monster or the failed individual constitutes a moment of empowerment and reinforcement of their own identity.

Finally, regarding the idea of ​​the shared reversibility between failure and the monstrous, we must consider the role of the monstrous as a vindicating element. In the preface to Cromwell (1827), Victor Hugo contrasts the sublime and the grotesque. The sublime is presented as something that exceeds the categories of rationality, while the grotesque is “a moment of pause, a point of comparison, a starting point, from which we rise toward the beautiful with a fresher and more desired perception […]. We can say with certainty that contact with the deformed has endowed modern sublimity with something purer, something greater than ancient beauty.”

In the history of art, a clear example of this is the visionary movement of the early 19th century, or Symbolism in the 1880s, both considered enemies of objective representation. Both movements used the depiction of monsters as an artistic statement. We find examples of the former in William Blake ( The Great Red Dragon , 1805-1810) and of the latter in Odilon Redon ( The Cyclops , 1914 ).

Furthermore, the consolidation of "prodigy and freak" shows in the 19th century became a means of livelihood for people with deformities, marginalized and excluded from any opportunity to perform socially acceptable work. The exhibition of these unusual acts originated in the traveling circuses of the 17th century, although it was from 1870 onward that they became commonplace, especially in the United States. These variety shows, designed for the working class and known as dime museums , offered a place in the world to one of the most marginalized sectors of society and, at the same time, democratized entertainment and leisure, functioning as substitutes for more refined forms of entertainment accessible only to the upper classes.

We conclude this discussion with a cinematic reference: Freaks (Tod Browning, 1932) is perhaps the best example of this reality in film. The film tells a story developed in two parts that establish an almost perfect symmetry. The first presents beauty humiliated and transformed into ugliness through its cruelty: beauty reveals its cruelest dimension in the attempt by a beautiful trapeze artist to seduce a dwarf and obtain all his money. The second part shows the reverse: ugliness in the service of beauty; the monstrous is shown as an act against the cruelty of that beauty which has excluded and marginalized them, taking revenge as an act of brotherhood.

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Index of illustrations:

Fig. 1: Still from the film The Golem (Paul Wegener, Carl Boese, Germany, 1920)

Fig. 2: Hieronymus Bosch. The Garden of Earthly Delights (1490-1500). Prado Museum Collection