Abstract
What is the place of vulnerability in our lives? The current debate about the ethics of enhancement technologies provides a context in which to think about this question. In my view, the current debate is likely to be fruitless, largely because we bring the wrong ethical resources to bear on its questions. In this article, I recall an important, but currently neglected, role that moral concepts play in our thinking, a role they should especially play in relation to the introduction of new technologies. I call this the ‘contemplative role of moral concepts’. I then contrast two approaches to the contemplative role of moral concepts which are found in the current literature, and show why it is important to keep in mind both of these approaches when thinking about human vulnerability.
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Notes
Climate science futuroscopy is a dire activity that should be taken seriously. Something similar could emerge from molecular biology as scientists fiddle around with our genomes. But, right now, we are in the dark on such matters.
The ‘of course’ requires qualification inasmuch as some philosophers demur from the view that there is any role for general moral principles in moral thinking, cf. Jonathon Dancy [2]. The crucial issue from my point of view is how principles are understood and how they contribute to moral judgement. This is a matter too far from my immediate concerns, though my general view on this will become somewhat clearer as this article advances.
I make no claim that there are not other patterns of moral deliberation. In some, we might think through whether to do such and such would be honest, kind, or considerate. That is, we examine the relation of our proposed act to a virtue’s requirements or recommendations. In other patterns of moral reflection, we might even think about whether what we are doing is good, something we have a right to do, or an obligation to do or not do. The variety is significant. All I am claiming is that moral kind terms are a central set of concepts figuring in very ordinary and common patterns of moral thinking. They seem particularly important in thinking about the new kinds of act which new technologies sometimes enable us to do.
One does not have to be a consequentialist to believe that consequences are morally significant in concrete decision making: it does not follow from the fact that bad enough consequences can make an otherwise good thing to do the wrong thing to do (which common sense affirms) that good enough consequences make an otherwise bad thing to do the right thing to do. This latter thesis is the distinctive claim of consequentialism. Consequences do sometimes provide the moral light cast in deliberation on what one is thinking of doing, but not always, and never alone when a moral kind concept is relevant. I am focussing here on the relevance of moral kind concepts in the thought that most of the time, the kind of calculation of consequences called for by consequentialism is a will o’ the wisp.
That sex and reproduction can be used as instruments of terror and genocide emphasises this point. Such evils are not morally ‘about sex’ but are about humiliation, torture, and degradation and the elimination of a kind of person because they are that kind of person (‘elimination of scum’). Similarly, most rape is not ‘about sex’ either but typically is about exerting power over women. The fact that physical sex is involved is not the moral point. Similarly, if sex is morally about reproduction, then at least part of the moral matter of adultery is reproduction and if IVFD is about reproduction (as in the kind of case sketched in the text), then the moral issues raised by IVFD could bring adultery into the picture. Of course, absenting such a background story about an example of IVFD, for us with our effective contraceptives, sex is morally not about reproduction nor was reproduction ever really ‘about sex’ (cf. rape is not about sex). Reproduction is about love, the calling to be a parent, and so on; in a former era, it was morally about family and inheritance and the like. So, the dissociation of sex and reproduction is significant. Thus, for most of us, it is hard to see something like IVFD as introducing the kind of moral concerns which the notion of adultery introduces.
There is much more to say about the ethics of renunciation than I have space for, particularly about the virtues related to renunciation. A brief comment follows. In the abstract, virtues such as temperance, kindness, prudence (rational planning), generosity, and strength of will (enkrateia—self-control, continence) all fit very naturally into the ethics of flourishing’s conception of life. In contrast, other virtues do not quite so easily fit here but better in the perspective on life of the ethics of renunciation. Virtues such as patience (noble bearing and attitude in affliction), honesty, integrity as taking responsibility for one’s failures and wrong-doing, and justice (giving others their due even to one’s own disadvantage) fit better with a conception of life as presenting challenges to one’s character which one must live up to. Here, the assumption seems to be that life presents frustrations to flourishing and to getting one’s way but one must respect the constraints of morality and not merely assert oneself wilfully for the sake of ‘doing well’. Typical examples of the ethics of flourishing tend to accommodate these virtues by reconceptualising the sacrifice of advantage they involve as the ‘real flourishing’ in contrast to that of not making the sacrifice but acting immorally and entrenching bad character by doing so. Too often, this is unconvincing. The sacrifices are real and morality demands them. One does not flourish in making the sacrifice. On the other hand, the point of Socrates’ observation that the good man cannot be harmed surely is that, against the moral cost to character and in having done another wrong, the advantage of not having made the required sacrifice counts for nothing of real value when in the balance with virtue and acting rightly towards others. But this hardly means the virtuous person ‘flourishes’ in any plausible sense of the term. Nor, as far as I can find, does Socrates ever claim this. These virtues, then, such as patience, justice, and integrity, fit more naturally with the perspective of the ethics of renunciation than with that of the ethics of flourishing. Courage seems to stand in both camps. If courage paradigmatically involves a person acting with determination and focus in the pursuit of a dangerous quest, then the virtue fits with the ethics of flourishing. Attainment of the goods sought in the quest counts for achievement and a life of greater value—a form of flourishing. On the other hand, where the paradigm of courage is the person acting in the face of dangers and risks to refuse to do wrong though good may come of it or to avoid something else very bad, courage tends to fit better with the ethics of renunciation. To his cost, the agent has to withstand the dangers and in doing so makes sacrifices which have no real advantage but that virtue is protected and goodness not sacrificed for evil gain. But there does not have to be any compensating value achieved by this in the manner sought in the perspective of the ethics of flourishing. It is not part of the ethics of renunciation that what makes a trait of character a virtue is a contribution it makes to making one’s life a fulfilled life or a life of flourishing or actualisation. This perspective offers a different light on the moral significance of vulnerability.
Note that non-consequentialism (‘right and wrong does not all depend on the consequences’) does not logically imply deontology (‘right and wrong does not depend on the consequences at all’).
Of course, from the Amish point of view, modern post-industrial societies are vulnerable to other developments consequent to their modernity.
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Quilter, J.G. The new enhancement technologies and the place of vulnerability in our lives. Theor Med Bioeth 37, 9–27 (2016). https://doi.org/10.1007/s11017-016-9354-z
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DOI: https://doi.org/10.1007/s11017-016-9354-z