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It is argued that there are moral costs of our accepting ‘strict materialism’, the view that there is no such phenomenon as an irreducible first‐person point of view. If we accept strict materialism, then we have to give up some considered moral views, such as the principle of an agent‐relative morality and the hedonistic principle. The necessity involved is not logical, however, but pragmatic. Strict materialism does not imply that these moral views are false; it is our belief in them that is undermined by pur belief in strict materialism. If there is no irreducible first‐person point of view these moral views simply do not seem to make any moral sense. Since these moral views are prima facie very plausible, the moral costs of our accepting strict materialism are considerable.

This article discusses under what circumstances patients who are suffering from senile dementia or mental retardation should be submitted to coercive care, who should decide about this kind of coercion, and in what legal framework it should take place. A distinction is drawn between modest (i.e. of moderate degree) and meddlesome coercion. The use of modest coercion is defended. It is argued that medical personnel ought to decide exclusively about the use of modest coercion. However, no law should render legitimate the use of even modest coercion. It is conceded that to prohibit the use of a kind of coercion that is expected to take place is hypocrisy. It is argued that this is, however, an acceptable form of hypocrisy

On what model should a modern multi‐cultural democracy work? Spinosa et al. have argued that the political order should be sustained by a set of common values instilled in the citizens, without, however, any common rank order among these values. I argue that the multi‐cultural state should rather conform to what I call the Secular Model, according to which the citizens need not share any basic values at all. On the Secular Model, people individually stick to the existing constitution (only) as long as they each feel that they have good reasons to do so. To be sure, each citizen of a multi‐cultural state does need a feeling of community identity, a ‘we’ ideology, but it is desirable that each individual can have more than one such identity. It is also important that each individual can shift as he or she pleases, from one such identity to another. So this kind of identity should not be moulded by the state, but by various different free associations, independent of the state.

Being targeted by Nir Eyal's ingenious argument,1 I am pleased to have the opportunity to respond. It is fairly obvious that my utilitarian argument accomplishes what it is supposed to accomplish, namely a defence of the idea that the notion of informed consent should take roughly the form it takes in Western medicine. But does it fly in the face of commonsense moral thinking? I will argue that it does not.My argument is based on hedonistic utilitarianism.2 This means that it is an instance of the general pattern of argumentation that Eyal presents. It takes slightly different forms in its defence of the place of informed content in research and in the clinic. For reasons of space I will focus exclusively on the clinic.The thrust of the argument is as follows. In many cases, we should allow people to refuse treatment for the simple reason that they presumably know best what is in their interest. As J S Mill used to argue, each person has a privileged position with respect to her own life, which, as it were, she experiences from the inside, and from which she cannot walk away. …

Conservatism has an essence, or so I argue. Typical of the conservative attitude is to take what is an established fact or order to be worthy of preservation, precisely because it is well established. The question what fact is established must be answered in a context, and people of different political bent answer it differently. This is why we have left‐wing as well as right‐wing conservatism, sharing a common rationale. In my Conservatism for Our Time I discuss various different aspects of this rationale, and my answer to certain strictures raised by Robert Grant concerns several of them. The most important concerns a conservative or traditionalist criticism of rationalism. This criticism has been developed by ‐ among others ‐Michael Oakeshott. In my book, and in my answer to Grant, I defend and elaborate on this criticism.

According to estimates more than 400 biobanks currently operate across Europe. The term ‘biobank’ indicates a specific field of genetic study that has quietly developed without any significant critical reflection across European societies. Although scientists now routinely use this phrase, the wider public is still confused when the word ‘bank’ is being connected with the collection of their biological samples. There is a striking lack of knowledge of this field. In the recent Eurobarometer survey it was demonstrated that even in 2010 two-thirds of the respondents had never even heard about biobanks. The term gives the impression that a systematic collection of biological samples can constitute a ‘bank’ of considerable financial worth, where the biological samples, which are insignificant in isolation but are valuable as a collection, can be preserved, analysed and put to ‘profitable use’. By studying the practices of the numerous already existing biobanks, the authors address the following questions: to what extent does the term ‘biobank’ reflect the normative concept of using biological samples for the purposes of biomedical research? Furthermore, is it in harmony with the so far agreed legal–ethical consensus in Europe or does it deliberately pull science to the territory of a new, ambiguous commercial field? In other words, do biobanks constitute a medico-legal fiction or are they substantively different from other biomedical research protocols on human tissues?

In the Fall of 1997 the leading Swedish newspaper, Dagens Nyheter, created a media hype over the Swedish policy of compulsory sterilisation that had been in operation between 1935 and 1975. In the discussion that followed the moral condemnation of our medical past was unanimous. However, the reasons for rejecting what had gone on were varied and mutually inconsistent. Three strands of criticism were common: the argument from autonomy, the argument from caution, and the argument from biological scepticism. In the paper it is argued that what point of departure you choose in your criticism of the past should be of consequence also for your ideas about present and future medical practice. In particular, if you rely on the argument from autonomy, you should be prepared to accept a liberal (present and future) use of reproductive techniques.

The paper is a record of a debate which took place between a group of clinicians and the author concerning a clinical trial of a drug supposed to postpone the time when HIV-patients develop AIDS. A problem with the trial was that on available (inconclusive) evidence it appeared that one patient out of 500 was killed by the drug. The question raised was whether, in view of this evidence, it was morally defensible to go on with the trial. The discussion came to involve general topics such as the appropriate role of the ideal of autonomy as well as more particular topics of quantitative and qualitative risk assessments. The main thrust of the argument is that different conceptions of rationality may provide rationales of conflicting clinical decisions. Philosophy matters to medicine. Keywords: autonomy, equipoise, hazards, the Helsinki Declaration, maximizing expected utility, potential benefits, rationality, risk assessment CiteULike Connotea Del.icio.us What's this?