Biomedical Engineering Reference
In-Depth Information
ethical decision making, including those confronted in bioethics. But to be valid and systematic, moral
arguments must strive for moral coherence. Some would argue that moral decision making is different in
kind from scientific decision making. This is indicated by such axioms as that of Ralph Waldo Emerson
in his essay “Self-Reliance”:
Foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of small minds.
This quote is popularly used without the modifier “foolish,” which is quite telling. I doubt that Emerson
or even most transcendentalist thinkers would have had difficulty in thoughtful or wise consistency,
as dictated by the scientific method. In fact, foolish consistency is not consistency at all. To use a
colloquialism, many moralists are “one-trick ponies.” They have become comfortable with a template
for moral, intellectual, or ideological correctness, and have long since quit thinking about it. We see
this in the sciences as well, where we fall in love with a construct and resist even slight improvements
in even in the face of contravening evidence. So, perhaps Emerson was warning us about mindless
thinking (which out of this context seems to be oxymoronic). We should not simply adopt someone
else's template, but we should refine our own.
In considering how best to use engineering problem-solving skills to address human enhancement,
there is a corollary question: How do we decide what is important?
It is interesting to hear certain arguments for moral incoherence, such as that of policy makers who in
their own lives would find an act to immoral, but who have no problem advising in favor the act in the
policy arena. They say something to the effect of “I believe that X is wrong, but I would never presuppose
to vote that everyone had to also believe this.” It boils down to two factors. Is the decision about morality?
And, is the moral obligation so strong that it should be universal (i.e., Kant's categorical imperative).
For example, if I think squares are better than circles; most of us would agree that my preference for a
shape should be mandated to others; that is, I should not be allowed to legislate against your preference
for a shape. This is an amoral decision. It has nothing to do with right or wrong, only preference.
This does not mean that shape preference is always amoral. For example, the swastika is a shape.
Before Hitler, if one were asked whether they liked the shape or not, the question was probably an
amoral one. However, after the heinous acts associated with that symbol, the question becomes a moral
one. Emerson's concept of foolish consistency helps us to draw this distinction. Thus, the question of
whether one likes dogs more than cats or Mexican food more than Italian food is really an amoral one.
However, if someone asks if research on animals or genetic modification is right or wrong, there has
been a sufficient historical track record on each to make them moral questions.
The second factor, importance, can be tricky. The concept of importance is value-laden. What you
believe to be important, even essential, can vary substantially from what I believe. We may look at the
same evidence and come to a very different conclusion about its meaning. For example, in the animal
research question, you may hold that the cure for cancer is sufficiently important to justify animal
experiments, whereas the pain and suffering of the animals may be the most important factor for me.
In the former, you are basing your value on the end, while in the latter, I am basing my value on the
means. So, even our methods of arriving at importance vary.
One of the major criticisms, and often rightly deserved, is that the way we go about ascribing moral
importance is incoherent. Sometimes, whole ideologies are subject to this criticism, such as when a
political party's platform strongly supports the death penalty but opposes abortion, while the opposing
party's platform strongly favors abortion as a right, but opposes public executions even for the most
