In their Policy Forum, Cho et
al. grapple with what they seem to consider as worrisome implications of
advanced biotechnology. "The attempt to model and create a minimal
genome," they say, "represents the culmination of a reductionist research
agenda about the meaning and origin of life that has spanned the
20th century." This agenda is far from benign, according to these
ethicists, because it challenges the tradition which holds that life is
valuable because it is more than "merely physical." Their worry, in
essence, is that "The special status of living things and the value that we
ascribe to life may...be undermined by reductionism."
This is a serious charge, one that might foster
prejudice against science. If a thorough understanding of the mechanics
of life necessarily devalues it, then shouldn't we pull back from the
pursuit of biological knowledge? One might expect that the supposed
threat of reductionism would be made clear, but the authors don't
sustain their indictment. Reductionism poses little
danger to our values. Even with a minimum genome in hand, science simply
isn't in a position to offer definitive pronouncements on "the meaning and
significance of life."
The worries expressed by Cho et al. appear to rest on a confusion between materialism, the thesis
that we are essentially physical creatures, and what might be called
strong reductionism, the idea that higher level phenomena, such as human
behavior, can be completely explained in terms of its underlying physical
mechanisms. Some indeed are threatened by materialism, because being
"merely" physical undercuts the traditional reassurance that the soul
will outlive the body. But it is not clear that strong reductionism should be of concern, because it is patently false and must be
distinguished from the bread-and-butter science of analyzing biological
processes, which comprises the work on the minimal genome.
The authors point out that "a reductionist understanding of [human]
life...is not satisfying to those who believe that dimensions of the human
experience cannot be explained by an exclusively physiological analysis."
True enough, but does anyone really suppose that physiological analysis is
even relevant to most human experience? Such strong reductionism is
simply a straw man, not an encroaching scientific agenda.
For instance, a thorough understanding of the brain at the neural
level, while often necessary for tracing specific mental functions and
pathologies, is simply inappropriate for dealing with the everyday
psychodrama of our motives, aspirations, disappointments, and interpersonal
interactions. Even though our having experiences at all may depend on our
having properly wired brains, the meaning of experience derives from its
social context, not its substrate in physiology. In short, because
analytical physical science is
useless for explanatory or predictive purposes in much
of our lives, its success cannot threaten our dignity.
The authors also suggest that extensions of minimal genome research,
by specifying the genetic definition of the human organism and its
beginnings in utero, will have implications for the abortion debate. Although they don't tell us precisely what these implications are, they do
conclude that "the complex metaphysical issues about the status of human
beings cannot be discussed in terms of the presence or absence of a
particular set of genes." Quite true, but this is yet another
illustration of how physiological analysis is not about to rule our
ethical intuitions. Even if we agreed on a definition of human life at
the DNA level, all the contentious issues of fetal viability, birth
defects, quality of life, and the sometimes conflicting interests of
mother and potential newborn remain to be decided at the social level.
Science simply is not in competition with social policy debates, although
it can help inform them.
But beyond abortion, the most pressing issue, Cho et al. say, is whether
identifying minimal genomes, or perhaps even creating artificial organisms
from such blueprints, "constitutes an unwarranted intrusion into matters best
left to nature; that is, whether work on minimal genomes constitutes
'playing God.'" How much should we intervene in the mechanics of life to
suit our desires? An analytical understanding of life's mechanisms is
the key to genetic engineering, both of other creatures and of ourselves. If
we decide we should play God, then we'll use the key; if not, we should
throw it away.
The authors point out that a spectrum of views exists on playing God.
Many of religious persuasions reject it as arrogant hubris; others believe
that it should be the no-holds-barred culmination of our capacity for self
-design. Cho et al. recommend a middle path of careful
biotechnological stewardship that "would move forward with caution into
genomic research and with insights from value traditions as to the proper
purposes and uses of new knowledge." They also state that "while there
are reasons for caution, there is nothing in the research agenda for
creating a minimal genome that is automatically prohibited by legitimate
religious considerations."
If, as these ethicists conclude, there is no deep moral objection to
our playing God - carefully - then a detailed analysis of life's
mechanisms is simply a means to an end, not an intrinsic threat to the
specialness of life or our attachment to human beings and other creatures.
And it is these attachments that will shape the ends we seek, and that
must channel the use of biotechnology in humane, not monstrous,
directions.
Were we to conclude that playing God is wrong, then advanced biology
would pose a threat, and we might seek to limit research into what once
were the mysteries of life. Indeed, the success of science in showing
that simple life forms are mechanisms, albeit astoundingly complex, lends
power to what some feel is a deflationary materialism: we no longer need
mysterious, nonphysical explanations for what life does. The sheer
ability to play God, therefore, threatens those who think God is, or
should be, a necessary hypothesis at the physical level. They would
prefer science to fail, even in its proper arena, and one sure way to
ensure failure is to limit biological research.
But in reality it's too late not to play God. By knowing
that we have the power to know, even a decision to "let nature run its
course" is yet another God-like choice, albeit it one that renounces
domains of understanding and control. Such a choice would make us a God
of the Deists, a passive onlooker of unfolding creation, rather than an
active participant in shaping our destiny.
The question, therefore, is not whether we should play God, but what
sorts of local gods we will, or should, become. Will materialism (not the
straw man of strong reductionism) demoralize us, or will we continue to
find meaning in our personal and social lives, even though life itself is
understood to be a mechanism? The latter outcome becomes possible if we
grasp that our lives' meaning need not depend on our being ethereal, as
opposed to purely physical, creatures. Either way, our response to the
success of science will help determine how we play the leading role in
which nature has cast us on this planet.
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