Many ethical and moral concerns
have arisen over the potential applications of the cloning
technology. The technology is still in its infancy and in the
meantime, society as a whole has time to contemplate which uses
of the technology might be acceptable and which would not. The
suddenness of the news of the cloning of the first adult animal
caught almost all commentators by surprise and some suggested
that we should have fully discussed the implications of our work
before we started. The public may see science as a series of
'breakthroughs' but in reality progress is much more continuous.
Where in the sequence of events that led to Dolly should we have
consulted and with whom? It is also impossible to predict all
potential applications of a new technology. Most will be
beneficial but all technology can be misused in one way or
another. The solution is not to regulate the technology itself
but how it is applied.
Those concerned that scientists
were "playing at God" seemed to ignore how much mankind has
altered the cards that we were originally dealt. Animals were
first domesticated about 5000 years ago and selective breeding
since has produced modern strains of livestock, plants and pets
which are very different from their original progenitors. In
medicine, our current life expectancy of well over 70 years is a
result of direct intervention in nature, from improved prenatal
care, vaccination and use of antibiotics. The human condition is
still far from perfect and there is no particular reason now to
call a general halt to what most people view as progress.
The successful cloning of an adult sheep, announced in
Scotland this past February, is one of the most dramatic recent
examples of a scientific discovery becoming a public issue.
During the last few months, various commentators -- scientists
and theologians, physicians and legal experts, talk-radio hosts
and editorial writers -- have been busily responding to the news,
some calming fears, other raising alarms about the prospect of
cloning a human being. At the request of the President, the
National Bioethics Advisory Commission (NBAC) held hearings and
prepared a report on the religious, ethical, and legal issues
surrounding human cloning. While declining to call for a
permanent ban on the practice, the Commission recommended a
moratorium on efforts to clone human beings, and emphasized the
importance of further public deliberation on the subject.
An interesting tension is at work in the NBAC report.
Commission members were well aware of "the widespread public
discomfort, even revulsion, about cloning human beings." Perhaps
recalling the images of Dolly the ewe that were featured on the
covers of national news magazines, they noted that "the impact of
these most recent developments on our national psyche has been
quite remarkable." Accordingly, they felt that one of their tasks
was to articulate, as fully and sympathetically as possible, the
range of concerns that the prospect of human cloning had
elicited.
Yet it seems clear that some of these concerns, at least, are
based on false beliefs about genetic influence and the nature of
the individuals that would be produced through cloning. Consider,
for instance, the fear that a clone would not be an "individual"
but merely a "carbon copy" of someone else -- an automaton of the
sort familiar from science fiction. As many scientists have
pointed out, a clone would not in fact be an identical
copy, but more like a delayed identical twin. And
just as identical twins are two separate people -- biologically,
psychologically, morally and legally, though not genetically --
so, too, a clone would be a separate person from her
non-contemporaneous twin. To think otherwise is to embrace a
belief in genetic determinism -- the view that genes determine
everything about us, and that environmental factors or the random
events in human development are insignificant.
The overwhelming scientific consensus is that genetic
determinism is false. In coming to understand the ways in which
genes operate, biologists have also become aware of the myriad
ways in which the environment affects their "expression." The
genetic contribution to the simplest physical traits, such as
height and hair color, is significantly mediated by environmental
factors (and possibly by stochastic events as well). And the
genetic contribution to the traits we value most deeply, from
intelligence to compassion, is conceded by even the most
enthusiastic genetic researchers to be limited and indirect.
It is difficult to gauge the extent to which "repugnance"
toward cloning generally rests on a belief in genetic
determinism. Hoping to account for the fact that people
"instinctively recoil" from the prospect of cloning, James Q.
Wilson wrote, "There is a natural sentiment that is offended by
the mental picture of identical babies being produced in some
biological factory." Which raises the question: once people learn
that this picture is mere science fiction, does the offense that
cloning presents to "natural sentiment" attenuate, or even
disappear? Jean Bethke Elshtain cited the nightmare scenarios of
"the man and woman on the street," who imagine a future populated
by "a veritable army of Hitlers, ruthless and remorseless bigots
who kept reproducing themselves until they had finished what the
historic Hitler failed to do: annihilate us." What happens,
though, to the "pity and terror" evoked by the topic of cloning
when such scenarios are deprived (as they deserve to be) of all
credibility?
Richard Lewontin has argued that the critics' fears -- or at
least, those fears that merit consideration in formulating public
policy -- dissolve once genetic determinism is refuted. He
criticizes the NBAC report for excessive deference to opponents
of human cloning, and calls for greater public education on the
scientific issues. (The Commission in fact makes the same
recommendation, but Lewontin seems unimpressed.) Yet even if a
public education campaign succeeded in eliminating the most
egregious misconceptions about genetic influence, that wouldn=t
settle the matter. People might continue to express concerns
about the interests and rights of human clones, about the social
and moral consequences of the cloning process, and about the
possible motivations for creating children in this way.
Interests and Rights
One set of ethical concerns about human clones involves the
risks and uncertainties associated with the current state of
cloning technology. This technology has not yet been tested with
human subjects, and scientists cannot rule out the possibility of
mutation or other biological damage. Accordingly, the NBAC report
concluded that "at this time, it is morally unacceptable for
anyone in the public or private sector, whether in a research or
clinical setting, to attempt to create a child using somatic cell
nuclear transfer cloning." Such efforts, it said, would pose
"unacceptable risks to the fetus and/or potential child."
The ethical issues of greatest importance in the cloning
debate, however, do not involve possible failures of cloning
technology, but rather the consequences of its success. Assuming
that scientists were able to clone human beings without incurring
the risks mentioned above, what concerns might there be about the
welfare of clones?
Some opponents of cloning believe that such individuals would
be wronged in morally significant ways. Many of these wrongs
involve the denial of what Joel Feinberg has called "the right to
an open future." For example, a child might be constantly
compared to the adult from whom he was cloned, and thereby
burdened with oppressive expectations. Even worse, the parents
might actually limit the child's opportunities for growth and
development: a child cloned from a basketball player, for
instance, might be denied any educational opportunities that were
not in line with a career in basketball. Finally, regardless of
his parents' conduct or attitudes, a child might be burdened by
the thought that he is a copy and not an "original." The
child's sense of self-worth or individuality or dignity, so some
have argued, would thus be difficult to sustain.
How should we respond to these concerns? On the one hand, the
existence of a right to an open future has a strong intuitive
appeal. We are troubled by parents who radically constrict their
children's possibilities for growth and development. Obviously,
we would condemn a cloning parent for crushing a child with
oppressive expectations, just as we might condemn fundamentalist
parents for utterly isolating their children from the modern
world, or the parents of twins for inflicting matching wardrobes
and rhyming names. But this is not enough to sustain an objection
to cloning itself. Unless the claim is that cloned parents cannot
help but be oppressive, we would have cause to say they had
wronged their children only because of their subsequent, and
avoidable, sins of bad parenting -- not because they had chosen
to create the child in the first place. (The possible reasons for
making this choice will be discussed below.)
We must also remember that children are often born in the
midst of all sorts of hopes and expectations; the idea that there
is a special burden associated with the thought "There is someone
who is genetically just like me" is necessarily speculative.
Moreover, given the falsity of genetic determinism, any
conclusions a child might draw from observing the person from
whom he was cloned would be uncertain at best. His knowledge of
his future would differ only in degree from what many children
already know once they begin to learn parts of their family's
(medical) history. Some of us knew that we would be bald, or to
what diseases we might be susceptible. To be sure, the cloned
individual might know more about what he or she could become. But
because our knowledge of the effect of environment on development
is so incomplete, the clone would certainly be in for some
surprises.
Finally, even if we were convinced that clones are likely to
suffer particular burdens, that would not be enough to show that
it is wrong to create them. The child of a poor family can be
expected to suffer specific hardships and burdens, but we don't
thereby conclude that such children shouldn't be born. Despite
the hardships, poor children can experience parental love and
many of the joys of being alive: the deprivations of poverty,
however painful, are not decisive. More generally, no one's life
is entirely free of some difficulties or burdens. In order for
these considerations to have decisive weight, we have to be able
to say that life doesn't offer any compensating benefits.
Concerns expressed about the welfare of human clones do not
appear to justify such a bleak assessment. Most such children can
be expected to have lives well worth living; many of the imagined
harms are no worse than those faced by children acceptably
produced by more conventional means. If there is something deeply
objectionable about cloning, it is more likely to be found by
examining implications of the cloning process itself, or the
reasons people might have for availing themselves of it.
Concerns about Process
Human cloning falls conceptually between two other
technologies. At one end we have the assisted reproductive
technologies, such as in vitro fertilization, whose primary
purpose is to enable couples to produce a child with whom they
have a biological connection. At the other end we have the
emerging technologies of genetic engineering -- specifically,
gene transplantation technologies -- whose primary purpose is to
produce a child that has certain traits. Many proponents of
cloning see it as part of the first technology: cloning is just
another way of providing a couple with a biological child they
might otherwise be unable to have. Since this goal and these
other technologies are acceptable, cloning should be acceptable
as well. On the other hand, many opponents of cloning see it as
part of the second technology: even though cloning is a
transplantation of an entire nucleus and not of specific genes,
it is nevertheless an attempt to produce a child with certain
traits. The deep misgivings we may have about the genetic
manipulation of offspring should apply to cloning as well.
The debate cannot be resolved, however, simply by determining
which technology to assimilate cloning to. For example, some
opponents of human cloning see it as continuous with assisted
reproductive technologies; but since they find those technologies
objectionable as well, the assimilation does not indicate
approval. Rather than argue for grouping cloning with one
technology or another, I wish to suggest that we can best
understand the significance of the cloning process by comparing
it with these other technologies, and thus broadening the
debate.
To see what can be learned from such a comparative approach,
let us consider a central argument that has been made against
cloning -- that it undermines the structure of the family by
making identities and lineages unclear. On the one hand, the
relationship between an adult and the child cloned from her could
be described as that between a parent and offspring. Indeed, some
commentators have called cloning "asexual reproduction," which
clearly suggests that cloning is a way of generating
descendants. The clone, on this view, has only one
biological parent. On the other hand, from the point of view of
genetics, the clone is a sibling, so that cloning is more
accurately described as "delayed twinning" rather than as asexual
reproduction. The clone, on this view, has two biological
parents, not one -- they are the same parents as those of the
person from whom that individual was cloned.
Cloning thus results in ambiguities. Is the clone an offspring
or a sibling? Does the clone have one biological parent or two?
The moral significance of these ambiguities lies in the fact that
in many societies, including our own, lineage identifies
responsibilities. Typically, the parent, not the sibling, is
responsible for the child. But if no one is unambiguously the
parent, so the worry might go, who is responsible for the clone?
Insofar as social identity is based on biological ties, won't
this identity be blurred or confounded?
Some assisted reproductive technologies have raised similar
questions about lineage and identity. An anonymous sperm donor is
thought to have no parental obligations towards his biological
child. A surrogate mother may be required to relinquish all
parental claims to the child she bears. In these cases, the
social and legal determination of "who is the parent" may appear
to proceed in defiance of profound biological facts, and to
subvert attachments that we as a society are ordinarily committed
to upholding. Thus, while the aim of assisted reproductive
technologies is to allow people to produce or raise a child to
whom they are biologically connected, such technologies may also
involve the creation of social ties that are permitted to
override biological ones.
In the case of cloning, however, ambiguous lineages would seem
to be less problematic, precisely because no one is being asked
to relinquish a claim on a child to whom he or she might
otherwise acknowledge a biological connection. What, then, are
the critics afraid of? It does not seem plausible that someone
would have herself cloned and then hand the child over to her
parents, saying, "You take care of her! She's your
daughter!" Nor is it likely that, if the cloned individual did
raise the child, she would suddenly refuse to pay for college on
the grounds that this was not a sister's responsibility. Of
course, policymakers should address any confusion in the social
or legal assignment of responsibility resulting from cloning. But
there are reasons to think that this would be less
difficult than in the case of other reproductive
technologies.
Similarly, when we compare cloning with genetic engineering,
cloning may prove to be the less troubling of the two
technologies. This is true even though the dark futures to which
they are often alleged to lead are broadly alike. For example, a
recent Washington Post article examined fears that the
development of genetic enhancement technologies might "create a
market in preferred physical traits." The reporter asked, "Might
it lead to a society of DNA haves and have-nots, and the creation
of a new underclass of people unable to keep up with the
genetically fortified Joneses?" Similarly, a member of the
National Bioethics Advisory Commission expressed concern that
cloning might become "almost a preferred practice," taking its
place "on the continuum of providing the best for your child." As
a consequence, parents who chose to "play the lottery of
old-fashioned reproduction would be considered
irresponsible."
Such fears, however, seem more warranted with respect to
genetic engineering than to cloning. By offering some people --
in all probability, members of the upper classes -- the
opportunity to acquire desired traits through genetic
manipulation, genetic engineering could bring about a biological
reinforcement (or accentuation) of existing social divisions. It
is hard enough already for disadvantaged children to compete with
their more affluent counterparts, given the material resources
and intellectual opportunities that are often available only to
children of privilege. This unfairness would almost certainly be
compounded if genetic manipulation came into the picture. In
contrast, cloning does not bring about "improvements" in the
genome: it is, rather, a way of duplicating the genome --
with all its imperfections. It wouldn't enable certain groups of
people to keep getting better and better along some valued
dimension.
To some critics, admittedly, this difference will not seem
terribly important. Theologian Gilbert Meilaender, Jr., objects
to cloning on the grounds that children created through this
technology would be "designed as a product" rather than "welcomed
as a gift." The fact that the design process would be more
selective and nuanced in the case of genetic engineering would,
from this perspective, have no moral significance. To the extent
that this objection reflects a concern about the commodification
of human life, we can address it in part when we consider
people=s reasons for engaging in cloning.
Reasons for Cloning
This final area of contention in the cloning debate is as much
psychological as it is scientific or philosophical. If human
cloning technology were safe and widely available, what use would
people make of it? What reasons would they have to engage in
cloning?
In its report to the President, the Commission imagined a few
situations in which people might avail themselves of cloning. In
one scenario, a husband and wife who wish to have children are
both carriers of a lethal recessive gene:
Rather than risk the one in four chance of conceiving a child
who will suffer a short and painful existence, the couple
considers the alternatives: to forgo rearing children; to adopt;
to use prenatal diagnosis and selective abortion; to use donor
gametes free of the recessive trait; or to use the cells of one
of the adults and attempt to clone a child. To avoid donor
gametes and selective abortion, while maintaining a genetic tie
to their child, they opt for cloning.
In another scenario, the parents of a terminally ill child are
told that only a bone marrow transplant can save the child's
life. "With no other donor available, the parents attempt to
clone a human being from the cells of the dying child. If
successful, the new child will be a perfect match for bone marrow
transplant, and can be used as a donor without significant risk
or discomfort. The net result: two healthy children, loved by
their parents, who happen [sic] to be identical twins of
different ages."
The Commission was particularly impressed by the second
example. That scenario, said the NBAC report, "makes what is
probably the strongest possible case for cloning a human being,
as it demonstrates how this technology could be used for
lifesaving purposes." Indeed, the report suggests that it would
be a "tragedy" to allow "the sick child to die because of a moral
or political objection to such cloning." Nevertheless, we should
note that many people would be morally uneasy about the use of a
minor as a donor, regardless of whether the child were a result
of cloning. Even if this unease is justifiably overridden by
other concerns, the "transplant scenario" may not present a more
compelling case for cloning than that of the infertile couple
desperately seeking a biological child.
Most critics, in fact, decline to engage the specifics of such
tragic (and presumably rare) situations. Instead, they bolster
their case by imagining very different scenarios. Potential users
of the technology, they suggest, are narcissists or control
freaks -- people who will regard their children not as free,
original selves but as products intended to meet more or less
rigid specifications. Even if such people are not genetic
determinists, their recourse to cloning will indicate a desire to
exert all possible influence over the "kind" of child they
produce.
The critics' alarm at this prospect has in part to do, as we
have seen, with concerns about the psychological burdens such a
desire would impose on the clone. But it also reflects a broader
concern about the values expressed, and promoted, by a society's
reproductive policies. Critics argue that a society that enables
people to clone themselves thereby endorses the most narcissistic
reason for having children -- to perpetuate oneself through a
genetic encore. The demonstrable falsity of genetic determinism
may detract little, if at all, from the strength of this motive.
Whether or not clones will have a grievance against their parents
for producing them with this motivation, the societal indulgence
of that motivation is improper and harmful.
It can be argued, however, that the critics have simply
misunderstood the social meaning of a policy that would permit
people to clone themselves even in the absence of the
heartrending exigencies described in the NBAC report. This
country has developed a strong commitment to reproductive
autonomy. (This commitment emerged in response to the dismal
history of eugenics -- the very history that is sometimes invoked
to support restrictions on cloning.) With the exception of
practices that risk coercion and exploitation -- notably
baby-selling and commercial surrogacy -- we do not interfere with
people's freedom to create and acquire children by almost any
means, for almost any reason. This policy does not reflect a
dogmatic libertarianism. Rather, it recognizes the extraordinary
personal importance and private character of reproductive
decisions, even those with significant social repercussions.
Our willingness to sustain such a policy also reflects a
recognition of the moral complexities of parenting. For example,
we know that the motives people have for bringing a child into
the world do not necessarily determine the manner in which they
raise him. Even when parents start out as narcissists, the
experience of childrearing will sometimes transform their initial
impulses, making them caring, respectful, and even
self-sacrificing. Seeing their child grow and develop, they learn
that she is not merely an extension of themselves. Of course,
some parents never make this discovery; others, having done so,
never forgive their children for it. The pace and extent of moral
development among parents (no less than among children) is
infinitely variable. Still, we are justified in saying that those
who engage in cloning will not, by virtue of this fact, be immune
to the transformative effects of parenthood -- even if it is the
case (and it won't always be) that they begin with more
problematic motives than those of parents who engage in the
"genetic lottery."
Moreover, the nature of parental motivation is itself more
complex than the critics often allow. Though we can agree that
narcissism is a vice not to be encouraged, we lack a clear notion
of where pride in one's children ends and narcissism begins.
When, for example, is it unseemly to bask in the reflected glory
of a child's achievements? Imagine a champion gymnast who takes
delight in her daughter's athletic prowess. Now imagine that the
child was actually cloned from one of the gymnast's somatic
cells. Would we have to revise our moral assessment of her
pleasure in her daughter's success? Or suppose a man wanted to be
cloned and to give his child opportunities he himself had never
enjoyed. And suppose that, rightly or wrongly, the man took the
child's success as a measure of his own untapped potential -- an
indication of the flourishing life he might have had. Is
this sentiment blamable? And is it all that different from
what many natural parents feel?
Conclusion
Until recently, there were few ethical, social, or legal
discussions about human cloning via nuclear transplantation,
since the scientific consensus was that such a procedure was not
biologically possible. With the appearance of Dolly, the
situation has changed. But although it now seems more likely that
human cloning will become feasible, we may doubt that the
practice will come into widespread use.
I suspect it will not, but my reasons will not offer much
comfort to the critics of cloning. While the technology for
nuclear transplantation advances, other technologies -- notably
the technology of genetic engineering -- will be progressing as
well. Human genetic engineering will be applicable to a wide
variety of traits; it will be more powerful than cloning, and
hence more attractive to more people. It will also, as I have
suggested, raise more troubling questions than the prospect of
cloning has thus far.