Saving Humanity?:
Counter-arguing Posthuman Enhancement
K.
Mark Smith
Department of Sociology, University of Warwick,
Coventry CV4 7AL, UK
m.b.b.smith@warwick.ac.uk
Journal
of Evolution and Technology - Vol. 14 - April 2005
http://jetpress.org/volume14/smith.html
PDF Version
ABSTRACT
To its advocates, posthuman enhancement represents
the pinnacle of what contemporary humanist scientific and
technological endeavour can achieve; to its detractors, it has come
to represent the fullest realisation of human technological folly.
But while it is perhaps unsurprising that such a contentious,
emotive and seemingly bi-polar issue has resulted in a scramble to
arms, what is a surprise is the frequency of secular humanists to
advance arguments based on outmoded and contradictory thinking. To
illustrate this point, I have outlined some essential elements of
three contemporary counterarguments to posthuman enhancement, noting
their obvious pitfalls. I conclude by suggesting that if those who
advocate posthuman enhancement are to be engaged successfully then
new perspectives and arguments are necessary.
“We have good reason, on the basis of what is
happening in such fields as computer science, biotechnology
and…psychopharmacology, to suspect that Homo Sapiens is
going to exit from the 21st century a considerably
different animal from what it was in the 20th.”
(Anderson 2003, 536)
Introduction
The term ‘posthuman’ has been used as a broad term
for a new kind of person of unprecedented physical, intellectual and
psychological capacity. The posthuman – it is suggested – is likely
to result from the application of present and future technologies,
including but not limited to genetic engineering, transgenic
technology, bionic implants, brain/computer interface etc. At this
point is should be noted that while there is, at present, a need for
an examination of certain defining terms such as: ‘posthumanism’,
‘transhumanism’, ‘bio-libertarianism’, ‘techo-progressivism’ etc.;
and open debate as to whether those who advocate technological
development towards (the potentially idealised conception of) ‘the
posthuman’, are similar or substantively different from those who
simply advocate ‘radical’ technological solutions to human
physiological issues. I hope to sidestep this issue for the time
being by referring to those who advocate or oppose ‘posthuman
enhancement’: a general term for the types of technologies
associated with the development towards the posthuman.
Unfortunately most academic debate on posthuman
enhancement tends to centre on first-order bioethical issues
surrounding the current application of such technology. One possible
reason for this is the issue of technical conceivability: for many
of the posthuman enhancement issues of today where clearly
inconceivable – outside of the realms of science-fiction – only a
few years ago. This has resulted in a seeming ex post facto
realisation of true potential of enhancement technology, followed by
a retroactive (and possibly reactionary) examination and evaluation
of procedures that have already been developed. But while these
dilemmas may help to provoke public engagement, from the perspective
of ideological confrontation they are misdirected and ultimately
superfluous exercises in frustration. For while they deal with the
minutiae of specific issues and techniques, research will already be
underway into technical loop-holes and alternative procedures, the
likely result of which is the supersedence of said technique and the
redundancy of the debate. It being the case that “[t]he faster
knowledge strides ahead and the more sophisticated the technologies
become, the more difficult it will be to set boundaries on what the
biological sciences are capable of doing, but should not do.”
(CAP 2000, 29)
This said the balance of academic work is gradually
shifting and an ever increasing number of articles and texts are
being written that transcend present biomedical debates and enter
the wider theoretical arena of future direction, application and
policy (although this is still usually restricted to the near future
and specifically the area of reproductive biotechnology). But
unfortunately in doing so, many – primarily those who are all too
quick to draw lines in the sand – have seized on and attempted to
modify outmoded arguments and pragmatic strategies as plausible
counters to posthuman enhancement; literally dressing the
providential and progressive in the clothes of the postmodern. The
result has been accusations of duplicity, inconsistency and
ambiguity.
Dignity
“This protracted discussion of human dignity is
intended to answer the following question: What is it that we
want to protect from any future advance in biotechnology? The
answer is we want to protect the full range of our complex,
evolved natures against attempts at self-modification.”
(Fukuyama 2002, 172)
One seemingly popular counterargument to posthuman
enhancement is based on the belief that there are some essential,
but obscure, characteristics of man that compose his all important
essence – sometimes known as his ‘human dignity’ – and that
technological intervention in human evolution would ultimately
result in the corruption of this. Exponents of this theory argue
that Homo sapiens without human dignity are no longer
‘human’. As a result enhancement technologies are seen as not only
having the power to corrupt human dignity, but also the ability to
render the human extinct.
The unfortunate and acknowledged Achilles’ heel of
this standpoint is its potential to be undercut by arguments
questioning the very existence of so-called ‘human dignity’.
“Denial of the concept of human dignity – that is, of
the idea that there is something unique about the human race that
entitles every member of the species to a higher moral status than
the rest of the natural world – leads us down a very perilous path.”
(Fukuyama 2002, 160)
Obviously debates concerning human dignity are far
from new and the key issues they raise – are there qualitative
differences between man and other animals?; is there one specific
quality that all humans have, or are there a range of
qualities, irregularly dispensed?; when does one gain these
qualities i.e. become human, is it at birth, conception etc. and can
they be lost? (and probably most crucially of all); if these
qualities exist, are they inherently good, bad or indifferent? (Ruse
1995, 377) –
have been debated for centuries by many philosophical heavyweights.
In saying this I do not want to infer that such debates have been
universally concluded, in fact contemporary thinking generally
centres around the dominant scientific and sociological positions
that assert there is little material evidence for the existence of
human dignity beyond that which is mere social construct, an
artefact invented by humans to legitimise their exploitation of
non-humans; and the dominant humanist and religious positions that
assert the existence of human dignity is self evident, either as a
result of evolutionary ontological leap, or by gift from God (or
possibly even both re: the Pope’s 1996 correction of the encyclical
Humani generis, see Fukuyama 2002, 161).
Unfortunately for those who advocate the existence of
human dignity from a standpoint not founded on a leap of
faith, their position is constantly being confused and undermined by
the rapidly escalating complexity of associated scientific inquiry;
predominantly with regards study into the limits and abilities of
man. Whereas in the past human and non-human animals appeared
fundamentally different and the distinguishing characteristics
associated with human dignity such as: consciousness, sentience,
social hierarchy, intelligence, complex cerebral cortex, developed
language etc. seemed indisputable identifiers; today such
assumptions have been seriously brought into question, if not totally
rejected. In addition the arbitrariness of so-called ‘superior’
characteristics have also been undermined, adding weight to the
claims that they are little more than a ‘speciesist’ (Ryder 1970,
Singer 1974) attempt by humanists to retain the Judeo-Christian
‘Great Chain of Being’ (having rejected theism) by creating biased
ranks in which humans are placed at the top by design. And the
striking technological advancements appertaining to the capabilities
of computers and recent neurological research which no longer views
human brains and computer CPU’s as incommensurable may result in the
eventual doom of the most espoused bastion of human supremacy, the
ranking of ‘most intelligent’. To make matters worse, the ever
increasing demand for human egalitarianism has undermined the
flexibility of humanists to adopt new hyper-specific uniqueness and
superiority characteristics lest they be socially exclusive. An
example of this would be the use of Fletcher’s fifteen 'positive
propositions' underpinning his concept of ‘personhood’ (1979 12-16)
(these being: minimum intelligence, self-awareness, self-control, a
sense of time, a sense of futurity, a sense of the past, the
capability of relating to others, concern for others, communication,
control of existence, curiosity, change and changeability, balance
of rationality and feeling, idiosyncrasy and neocortical
functioning). For not only would the use of such a notion exclude
the likes of embryos and foetuses, it would also exclude infants,
young children and the mentally infirm. In fact medical conditions
such as dementia and Alzheimer’s would result in the ability for
someone to obtain personhood in ones youth and then lose the title
before one dies.
With the above in mind, the final haven for many
secularists advocating human dignity seems to be equivocation and
ambiguity in the form of the indefinable. The pronouncement that the
essential and defining characteristics of humanity; the basis for
their anthropocentrism; and that which needs protecting is the je
ne sais quoi that makes us human. So worried are some about
keeping these qualities ultimately elusive (and thus leaving them
open to unseen alteration) they dare not even attribute an epithet,
lest it reveal itself, exposing it to direct opposition: “there
remains some essential human quality underneath that is worth of a
certain level of respect – call it Factor X.” (Fukuyama 2002, 149)
Ironically the increasingly arbitrary, ambiguous and
untenable nature of the human dignity argument has not stopped the
likes of Fukuyama from updating it into a de facto defence
against posthuman enhancement (although it is framed as a specific
defence against reproductive biotechnology).
The crux of Fukuyama’s revised human dignity argument
is that:
“Factor X cannot be reduced to the possession of
moral choice, or reason, or language, or sociability, or sentience,
or emotions, or consciousness, or any other quality that has been
put forward as a ground for human dignity. It is all of these
qualities coming together in a human whole [my emphasis] that
make up Factor X.” (2002, 171)
The inclusion of the term ‘human whole’ is of primary
importance because it spells out Fukuyama’s belief that if something
is to possess: ‘Factor X’, it not only has to have all the
qualities of human dignity (and one gets the impression such a list
is open to constant revision and could become inexhaustible if
necessary); and has to be human by necessity (the customary ad
hoc ruling-out of non-humans); but also it has to be a specific
type of human – a ‘human whole’. But what is a human whole? Fukuyama
states that: “what gives us dignity and a moral status higher than
that of other living creatures is related to the fact that we are
complex wholes rather than the sum of simple parts” (2002, 171) and
then marries this holistic approach with the belief that:
“If Factor X is related to our very complexity and
the complex interactions of uniquely human characteristics like
moral choice, reason and a broad emotional gamut, it is reasonable
to ask how and why biotechnology would seem to make us less complex.
The answer lies in the constant pressure that exists to reduce the
ends of biomedicine to utilitarian ones – that is, the attempt to
reduce a complex diversity of natural ends and purposes to just a
few simple categories like pain and pleasure, or autonomy.” (2002,
172)
The inference here is that soon the potential will
exist (if it does not already) to ‘create’ a posthuman baby which
lacks the complexity to be a human whole and thus deficient in –
that which is to be protected – its Factor X.
“For this will be the constant trade-off that
biotechnology will pose: we can cure this disease, or prolong this
person’s life, or make this child more tractable, at the expense of
some ineffable human quality like genius, or ambition, or sheer
diversity.” (2002, 172)
Although developed with reproductive biotechnology in
mind, Fukuyama’s modified use of the human dignity defence seems
equally applicable as a counter to most forms of enhancement
technology. This said I sincerely question its potency even against
its intended target.
For not only is his argument founded on human
dignity, a concept with its origins in theism and thus open to
accusations of being both ad hoc and without foundation; but
also his modification continues in the same arbitrary vain when he
argues, without explanation, that human complexity is of obvious
benefit to man, or that natural ends are necessarily preferable to
utilitarian ends. And this of course throws-up the anomaly as to
whether a reduction of human complexity as a result of natural
ends would also be at odds with human dignity and Factor X?
In addition Fukuyama undermines his position yet
further by adopting the seemingly popular contradiction of attacking
the idea of posthuman enhancement while at the same time accepting –
even applauding – the idea of what can only be described as
‘posthuman therapy’. But while he open accepts that “[t]he
distinction between therapy and enhancement has been attacked on the
grounds that there is no way to distinguish between the two in
theory and therefore no way of discrimination in practice.” (2002,
209) His proposed solution – the assimilation of posthuman therapy
into the pseudo-naturalised concept of humanist medicine (whilst
leaving posthuman enhancement out in the proverbial cold) – seems
again to be little more than drawing subjective lines in the sand.
“One obvious way to draw lines is to distinguish
between therapy and enhancement, directing research towards the
former while putting restrictions on the latter. The original
purpose of medicine is after all, to heal the sick, not to turn
healthy people into gods. We don’t want star athletes to be hobbled
by bad knees or torn ligaments, but we also don’t want them to
compete on the basis of who has taken the most steroids. This
general principle would allow us to use biotechnologies to, for
example, cure genetic diseases like Huntingdon’s chorea or cystic
fibrosis, but not to make our children more intelligent or taller.”
(2002, 208-209)
In conclusion Fukuyama position – which quite
appropriately tries to incite discourse into the cost-benefit
analysis of posthuman therapy/enhancement technology – seems to be
ground on little more than an unsound and outmoded argument which
seeks to defend anthropocentrism by employing increasingly obscure,
ambiguous and potentially fictional identifiers; that has then been
modified into an equally shaky defence of man (in his present form)
from ‘utilitarian ends’ by highlighting a number of potentially
unforeseen side-effects, the plausibility and causality of which are
questionable and their detrimental nature arbitrary, inconsistent
and seemingly incompatible, i.e. contingent on whether they
originate from natural or utilitarian ends – apart from when it is
deemed an issue of ‘therapy’.
Autonomy
“And even supposing this were otherwise and not as
the argument has proven, still the lawgiver, who is worth anything,
if he ever ventures to tell a lie to the young for their good, could
not invent a more useful lie than this, or one which will have a
better effect in making them do what is right, not on compulsion,
but voluntarily.” (Plato 663d-e Laws II, 39)
Another common attack on posthuman enhancement comes
from those who believe it will undermine human autonomy and thus
detrimentally affect the human psyche. Again this theory is usually
predicated on the assumption that the natural is necessarily
preferable to the unnatural; and human complexity is self-evidently
sacrosanct:
“We therefore tend to forget that the revolution of
breeding practices by genetic engineering is itself no longer
governed by the clinical mode of adjustment to the inherent
dynamic of nature. What it suggests, rather, is the
dedifferentiation of a fundamental distinction which is also
constitutive of our self-understanding as species members.”
(Habermas 2003, 46)
Superficially, Habermas seems to be arguing that the
adoption of genetic engineering will result in humans no longer
being governed by nature. The inference here is twofold: firstly,
that biotechnological breeding practices are unnatural; and
secondly, that current breeding practices are by contrast natural.
Now to concede that such breeding practices are unnatural or
different is one thing, but the suggestion that the medically
supported, socio-economic selection of First World human
reproduction follows the ‘inherent dynamic of nature’ is to bring
Habermas’s concept of ‘nature’ into question and possibly render it
meaningless.
On a less superficial level, Habermas seems to be
arguing that human complexity and natural breeding practices should
be protected from posthuman enhancement because they are
inextricable to our self-understanding. But the justification for
this protectionism seems shaky for it appears to be founded on
little more than a desire not to see it questioned, as if the
questioning of our self-understanding was necessarily detrimental.
Habermas then builds on this foundation the argument
that reproductive genetic engineering will result in a certain – and
to his mind, inhuman – level of predestination. The result of which
“is likely to affect the autonomous conduct of life and moral
understanding.” (Habermas 2003, 52) This said, Habermas stresses he
does not believe this will result in ‘genetic determinism’, but
rather that genes are associated with ‘dispositions’. (2003, 53) But
even dispositions fashioned by human intervention would, he argues,
result in “the poor soul who has been genetically modified, having
only two alternatives, fatalism and resentment.” (Habermas 2003, 14)
Fatalism because his autonomous potential has been impinged by
technological manipulation; and resentment because he has been used
as a means to his designer’s ends, which contravenes the
categorical imperative (Habermas 2003, 55), another seemingly
innately measure, the adoption of which Habermas fails to justify
beyond the consequentialism of it non-adoption. It is important here
to note although Habermas’s argument is tailored to biotechnology,
it is also directly applicable to other enhancement activities such
as brain/computer interfaces and neurological bionic implants etc.
both of which could affect our self-perception of autonomy.
Thus far it may appear that Habermas’s critique of
human nature is founded on the seemingly outmoded Kantian
metaphysics of free will and moral absolutism and to a certain
extent this is correct; but as even Fukuyama points out, Kant
believed:
“Humans beings had dignity because they alone had
free will – not just the subjective illusion of free will but actual
ability to transcend natural determinism and the normal rules of
causality. It is the existence of free will that leads to Kant’s
well-known conclusion that human beings are always to be treated as
ends and not as means.
It would be very difficult for any believer in a
materialistic account of the universe – which includes the vast
majority of natural scientists – to accept the Kantian account of
human dignity.” (Fukuyama 2002, 151)
However, Habermas’s claim that there is an imperative
to restrict posthuman enhancement is not predicated on the
necessity of Kantian metaphysics, but rather the continuing general
assumption that Kantian metaphysics is ‘true’. In fact
Habermas’s position seems to be based on his tacit acceptance that
the vast majority of people believe – seemingly erroneously in his
opinion – that humans have free will in the Kantian sense (as in the
liberty of indifference) and thus act according by
attributing responsibility to agents; and accepting cognitivism and
moral universals such the categorical imperative. He continues by
arguing that:
“Eugenic interventions aiming at enhancement reduce
ethical freedom insofar as they tie down the person concerned to
rejected, but irreversible intentions of third parties, barring him
from the spontaneous self-perception [my emphasis] of being
the undivided author of his own life.” (Habermas 2003, 63)
The telling phrase here is ‘spontaneous
self-perception’ for it denotes what Fukuyama called the ‘subjective
illusion of free will’ (2002, 151), otherwise known as the
liberty of spontaneity. From this perspective Habermas seems to
be arguing that the reason we should reject posthuman enhancement is
not because it would reduce our autonomy and thus undermine
our self-perception, but because it would result in the widespread
(but ultimately incorrect) belief that it would reduce our autonomy
and thus undermine our self-perception.
Now this argument seems to make little sense if you
believe that the solution to this metaphysical misinterpretation is
a policy of extensive public re-education. In actuality it only
seems to make sense if you wish to actively utilise the erroneous
belief as the bases of your counterargument, arguing to the general
public that the rejection of posthuman enhancement will safeguard
human autonomy.
Of course Habermas would perceive such an argument as
nothing but honourable. And again from a certain perspective he
would be correct, for if one adopts the necessary ‘God’s-eye-view’
of the error theory, it is possible to reason that Habermas is
not trying to protect the material of human autonomy but rather
its essence. This said others may argue that whilst there is nothing
but the illusion of origination and thus nothing material to
protect, the argument duplicitously portrays the protection of the
material because it is hung (nefariously) off the back of the
public’s mistaken belief that the material of human autonomy
could be lost.
And this is the crux of Habermas’s argument, the
seemingly neo-Straussian belief that the general public are best
served by keeping them ignorant of the fact that origination is an
illusion because the current mistaken belief that it is not an
illusion is seen as a fundamental and positive part of human
self-perception. Unfortunately posthuman enhancement is deemed to
have an enormous potential to illuminate and challenge the public’s
error. It therefore follows that such enhancement must be stopped
before it can undermine this ‘positive’ but flawed self-perception.
It must be noted here that ironically those who champion this
argument cannot solicit widespread advocacy. For the fundamental
problem with Habermas’s position – as with all error theories – is
that a wholesale acceptance of the stance ultimately destroys it.
This is because it is impossible to view the error without the
necessary God’s-eye-view, having done so it is then impossible to
regress back to truly (but mistakenly) believing in Kantian
metaphysics. As a result the success of the argument depends on its
ability to remain hidden from the majority, as an act of social
protectionism.
Doubtlessly some will question whether the public is
really best served by keeping them ignorant? Whether serving the
public’s best interest should be more important that giving an
accurate account of contemporary thinking? Whether the public’s
erroneous view of human autonomy is necessarily a positive part of
human self-perception? And whether challenging our self-perception
is self-evidently detrimental?
But pragmatically such questions may be a distraction
because I doubt the ultimate success of Habermas’s standpoint. For
even with continuing metaphysical ignorance and a universal
moratorium on posthuman enhancement (something neigh inconceivable);
soon there will be the technology and knowledge that will allow a
simple genetic test to be conducted at birth, that when given to
someone who has not undergone genetic engineering, will
highlight their future predisposition in exactly the same fashion it
would if they had been genetically modified. The only difference is
the illusion of a genetic lottery in the former and the illusion of
parental design in the latter. Either way, the likely result is the
same, the questioning of human autonomy and our self-perception in
the very manner Habermas is trying to protect against.
Extreme Precaution
“Man is a limited and partial creature, a product of
material evolution. He is a relative being, moulded by the struggle
to survive in particular conditions on a particular planet. We have
no grounds for supposing that his construction is adapted to
understanding the ultimate nature or cause or purpose of the
universe and indeed every reason for supposing the contrary.”
(Huxley 1931, 242)
Unfortunately no matter how advanced Huxley’s
thinking was for its time, it would be disingenuous to suggest that
the above quote was an example of prophetic postmodernism. For when
Huxley talks about the limited nature of man, he is not referring to
the ultimate subjectivity of the pursuit of knowledge; he is
questioning the capacity of man and whether he will ever be able to
fully comprehend the telos of man and the universe. And when
he goes on to note: “The commonest objection to such constructive
eugenic ideas is that we do not know enough about the subject to
decide upon the most desirable direction in which to push forward”
(Huxley 1931, 116), although this appears strikingly similar to
contemporary scientific scepticism which argues “the subjectivity of
the human object, anthropology, according to the epistemological
argument cannot be a science; and in any event the subjectivity of
the human subject precludes the possibility of science discovering
objective truth.” (Spiro 1996, 759) The anti-eugenicists are not
arguing the search for progress is necessarily irresolvable and thus
meaningless, but rather that the search and resultant action towards
the telos must be tempered by considerations of the limited
abilities of man.
It will of course be over fifty years before this
type of thinking – one which questions scientific and technological
application by drawing on the ideas of human ignorance, fallibility
and unforeseeability – will be encapsulated into the evaluative
strategy we know today as the precautionary principle. But it
is important to note that the principle has its roots in enlightened
thinking and is not only compatible with, but evolved out of the
ideals of reason, progress and the search for a definitive although
predominately secular direction for human existence.
But in an age of postmodernism some critics of
posthuman enhancement have taken the lead from elements of the
environmental movement and have extended the precautionary principle
beyond its methodological scepticism, into full-blown technophobia;
transforming it from a constructive evaluative tool into a highly
restrictive defence against the development of new posthuman
technologies. An advocate of using a so-called ‘extreme’ version of
the precautionary principle as a defence against posthuman
enhancement is George Annas who argues:
“The environmental movement has adopted the
precaution principle to help stem the tide of environmental
alterations that are detrimental to humans. One version of this
principle holds that ‘when an activity raises threats of harm to
human health or the environment…the proponent of the activity,
rather than the public, should bear the burden of proof [that the
activity is more likely to be beneficial than harmful]’ (quote from
Raffensperger and Ticker 1999, 354).” (Annas, Andrews and Isasit
2002, 153)
This extreme interpretation of the principle is
usually hardened further by marrying it with the belief that
technological benefits – whether environmental or in this case
posthuman – are practically inconceivable:
“It may be that species-altering techniques, like
cloning and inheritable genetic modification, could provide benefits
to the human species in extraordinary circumstances. For example,
asexual genetic replication could potentially save humans from
extinction if all humans were rendered sterile by some catastrophic
event. But no such necessity currently exists or is on the horizon.”
(Annas, Andrews and Isasit 2002, 153)
Unfortunately the absolutist nature of this
inconceivability clause – which when combined with the restrictive
version of the precautionary principle results in little more than a
de facto rejection of all posthuman endeavour – seems
impossible to maintain consistently without it being predicated on
some sort of severe technological cynicism and the belief that
all posthuman enhancement will necessarily result in the genuine
potential for detriment to mankind. From this position it is no
longer the case when those advocating posthuman enhancement argue:
that emergent biological, mechanical and electronical technologies
offer the potential to extend the human beyond its current
psychological and physiological limits; these possibilities are seen
as self-evident or even potential improvements. For why does having
a more powerful brain, or being able to live longer, run faster,
jump higher etc. constitute advantage or improvement? Some will
argue that current levels of human intelligence are already high
enough to be a survival liability. That it has enabled humans to
create extremely hazardous nuclear, chemical and biological
substances and weapons; massive pollution and environmentally
unsustainable lifestyles and enormous over-population etc. In
addition it has allowed man to become the only species on the planet
capable of – deciding to and succeeding in – killing every member of
its own species and probably most others as well. This does not
appear to be particularly advantageous. And this line of argument
seems equally valid when applied to physiological enhancements, for
even if they are successful they seem just as likely to hinder
rather than benefit humanity.
One possible response to this would be to accept that
so-called human ‘improvements’ are relative rather than universal in
nature and proceed on that basis. But adopting this position would
provoke counterarguments highlighting that while a synchronic
examination of, for example: contemporary health issues, may suggest
that genetic engineering and transgenic technology etc. offers the
potential for relative benefit; a diachronic examination would
expose the fact that the vast majority of these health issues are as
a direct result of First World industrialisation. If one actively
generates health hazards and then (potentially) solves them through
technology, should this be deemed more beneficial to humans than
simply refraining from generating the problem in the first place? In
fact it may be the case that these posthuman solutions are offering
at best parity with past human well being; a pertinent question
being whether such procedures would offer tangible improvements to
the lives of American, Australasia and Africa aboriginals’
pre-European colonialism. And if this technology is only offering
the possibility for parity, then it may seem reckless to gamble with
potentially hazardous and irreversible techniques, when more prudent
– but admittedly challenging and time consuming – social and
cultural alternatives exist?
But even if this is the case, many who advocate
posthuman enhancement will argue that the bigger picture: going
beyond the current limits of human psychology and physiology will
not only have no precedent, but also help fulfil the ambitions and
desired of most humans, for the vast majority would love to have a
more powerful brain, or be able to live longer, run faster, jump
higher etc. But if this is so, cynics may well argue that it says
more about the vacuous, instant-gratification lifestyles of most
First World citizens than any considered opinion on ‘the good life’.
In fact due to the relative nature of our existence, any perceived
advantage in increasing – for example – human lifespan, will most
probably be swallowed-up within a few generations. For instead of
using those extra say: thirty years, to do all those things the
average person today never gets round to doing in a lifetime, the
most likely outcome will be humans spend more time doing exactly the
same things they have always done. We will spend longer at school,
longer at university, longer at work etc. The life expectancy in the
UK for a new born boy in 1901 was 45 years; in 1999 it was 75 years.
(Hicks and Allen 1999, 8) Do we as individuals revel in these extra
years we have gained? Have they resulted in greater fulfilment,
achievement and self-worth? Do we even notice we have them?
Unfortunately any fundamental difference in the abilities of man
will only seem fundamental for a short period of time before they
become the norm; from momentous, to banal in a few generations. Of
course it may take a few extra generations to adapt to rapid change,
but soon society will forget the past and destroy any relative
advantage.
Technological cynics will highlight the seeming
irresponsibility of allowing humans to determine their own
evolutionary direction, citing the capricious nature in which past,
present and probably future generations have and will define and
re-define what is good for man and society. Human history is
littered with allegories of possible futures that constantly
fluctuate between the utopian and the dystopian. The paradigmatic
contemporary example of this is Aldous Huxley’s novel Brave New
World. Written in 1932 when human eugenics was widely touted as
the imminent solution to most social problems, the book was viewed
by many and written by Huxley (brother of renowned biologist and
pro-eugenicist Julian Huxley) as purely utopian. The revelations of
the Holocaust changed all that and the public outcry “all but buried
the eugenic ideal”. (Kevles 1999, 251) From that moment on Brave
New World has been usurped and reinterpreted as prophetic and
dystopian. Sixty years on and the ever increasing talk of cloning,
embryo selection and genetic engineering etc. is again challenging
our perceptions of reproductive enhancement. And to this end,
Brave New World may soon become utopian again.
But while the arguments associated with technological
cynicism and extreme precautionary principles may seem cogent, lucid
and persuasive, there is the distinct possibility that it is a
pyrrhic victory for the secular humanists that have co-opted it. For
if the principle is to be deemed as more than simple arbitrary
protectionism, it will need consistence of application and will need
to be applied to all new technologies, not just posthuman
enhancement. But unlike many radicals within the environmental
movement, the idea of abandoning large swaths of agricultural,
commercial, medical and future-technologies research simply because
they fail to meet this version of the precautionary principle will
seem to most humanists tantamount to ‘throwing the baby out with the
bath water’. Obviously not wanting this, Annas is thus forced to
challenge accusations of subjectivity and inconsistent application
by arguing that posthuman enhancement alone should receive
‘special treatment’:
“In fact, cloning and inheritable genetic alterations
can be seen as crimes against humanity of a unique sort: they are
techniques that can alter the essence of humanity itself (and thus
threaten to change the foundation of human rights) by taking human
evolution into our own hands and directing it towards the
development of a new species, sometimes termed the ‘posthuman’.”
(Annas, Andrews and Isasit 2002, 153)
Unfortunately Annas’s strategy is little more than
hanging the legitimacy of one argument on the inferred legitimacy of
another. And not only does this constitute a weak counterargument to
allegations of ad hoc protectionism, but it also leads the
argument straight back to human essence and Fukuyama.
Conclusion
The overriding problem with the above arguments – and
the vast majority of those within the anti-enhancement camp – seems
to be their propensity to defend humanity by relapsing (potentially
duplicitously) into metaphysical fantasy, religious providence and
assumptions of the superiority of nature. But while these positions
may have the advantage of being: socially intuitive, compatible with
secular and theist doctrine and able to provoke emotive, impassioned
and proactive responses from the public; they ultimately
disintegrate under serious scrutiny. And one possible reason for
their weakness may be a desire (whether out of unity or deceit) to
have a foot in each camp, one in the religious and the other in the
material; it being plausible that some humanists may have been
tempted to adopt a ‘methodologically’ secular standpoint in an
attempt to increase the dissemination and legitimacy of what are
basically theist beliefs. To this end a telling statement may be
Fukuyama’s apparent nod to the religious gallery when he argues:
“The problem of how consciousness arose does not require recourse to
the direct intervention of God. It does not, on the other hand, rule
it out, either.” (2002, 171)
But either way, from the perspective of the
initiated, the fundamental nature of these inconsistencies has
severed to render their counterarguments not only impotent as
cogent, unambiguous and unbiased defences against posthuman
enhancement, but also beyond repair and reapplication. It would
therefore seem that if posthuman enhancement is to be engaged with
greater success, new perspectives and arguments are needed.
Acknowledgments
I am grateful to many people for comments and
especially to Colette Conaty and Clare Pheasey.
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