Iain Brassington

An agent who takes his own life acts in violation of the moral law, according to Kant; suicide, and, by extension, assisted suicide are therefore wrong. By a similar argument, and with a few important exceptions, killing is wrong; implicitly, then, voluntary euthanasia is also wrong. Kant's conclusions are uncompelling and his argument in these matters is undermined on considering other areas of his thought. Kant, in forbidding suicide and euthanasia, is conflating respect for persons and respect for people, and assuming that, in killing a person (either oneself or another), we are thereby undermining personhood. But an argument along these lines is faulty according to Kant's own standards. There is no reason why Kantians have to accept that self-killing and euthanasia are contrary to the moral law. Even if some Kantians adhere to this doctrine, others can reject it.

ABSTRACTJohn Harris suggests that participation in or support for research, particularly medical research, is a moral duty. One kind of defence of this position rests on an appeal to the past, and produces two arguments. The first of these arguments is that it is unfair to accept the benefits of research without contributing something back in the form of support for, or participation in, research. A second argument is that we have a social duty to maintain those practices and institutions that sustain us, such as those which contribute to medical knowledge. This argument is related to the first, but it does not rely so heavily on fairness. Another kind of defence of the duty to research rests on an appeal to the future benefits of research: research is an effective way to discharge a duty to rescue others from serious illness or death, therefore we have a duty to research. I suggest that all three of Harris' lines fail to provide a compelling duty to research and spell out why. Moreover, not only do the lines of argument fail in their own terms: in combination, they turn out to be antagonistic to the very position that Harris wants to defend. While it is not my intention here to deny that there might be a duty to research, I claim that Harris' argument for the existence of such a duty is not the best way to establish it

It has been claimed in several places that the new genetic technologies allow humanity to achieve in a generation or two what might take natural selection hundreds of millennia in respect of the elimination of certain diseases and an increase in traits such as intelligence. More radically, it has been suggested that those same technologies could be used to instil characteristics that we might reasonably expect never to appear due to natural selection alone. John Harris, a proponent of this genomic optimism, claims in his book Enhancing Evolution that we not only have it in our power to enhance evolution, but that we also have a duty to do so. In this paper, I claim that Harris' hand is strong but that he overplays it nevertheless. He is correct to dismiss the arguments of the anti-enhancement lobby and correct to say that enhancement is permissible; but ‘good’ is different from ‘permissible’ and his argument for the goodness of enhancement is less convincing. Moreover, he is simply wrong to claim that it generates a duty to enhance

Hidalgo's paper is a clear and powerful contribution to a topic of ongoing concern.1 It should be taken seriously by anyone who worries that there is something seriously wrong with the flow of medical expertise from the poor countries of the South to the rich countries of the North because it forces open the question of just what that wrongness is supposed to be. Being unable to identify the moral problem about migration will not make the problem about poor health in the South go away, of course: and it might be that, if we are genuinely concerned to keep expertise in the South, we simply have to face up to the possibility of subsidising the wages …

In an article recently published in this journal, I raised a puzzle about the control of genetic information, suggesting a situation in which it might turn out that we have a duty to remain in ignorance about at least some aspects of our own genome. In this article, I propose a way that would make sense of how the puzzle arises, and offer a way to resolve it and similar puzzles in future: in essence, we would consider genetic information to be something the distribution of which may be more or less just. We would not know in advance what a just distribution would be, though, and in some cases there might still be a justice-based reason to deny a person genetic information about himself. However, others might also have justice-based claims to be able to access that information. This suggests that there is a possible world in which one person is entitled to at least some genetic information about another, while that other person—to whom the information refers—is not, and that this world would be just

It is not unknown for participants in discussions of ethics to prefix their claims with a profession of their religious faith—to say, for instance, “Well, I’m a Christian/Muslim/whatever, so I think that …”. Other participants in the debate may well worry about how to respond without the risk of giving offence or appearing ad hominem. Within a teaching environment, the worry may be even more acute. Nevertheless, it is suggested in this paper that such worries should not be allowed to impede debate; moreover, a teacher who let such prefixes pass without critique would be considered a poor teacher. In fact, a kind of duty for a teacher of ethics is to be contrary and to play the apostate

Motivated by Lord Joffe’s Assisted Dying for the Terminally Ill Bill, but with one eye on any possible future legislation, I consider the justifications that might be offered for limiting assistance in dying to those who are suffering unbearably from terminal illness. I argue that the terminal illness criterion and the unbearable suffering criterion are not morally defensible separately: that a person need be neither terminally ill (or ill at all), nor suffering unbearably (or suffering at all) to have a right to assisted dying. Indeed: I shall suggest that the unbearable suffering criterion undermines the Bill (or any proposal like it) wholesale. On the other hand, the criteria taken together are defensible, and this defence would be built on a concern for the protection of the vulnerable. However, I also claim that this implies that the law might justifiably—and maybe even properly—aim to prevent a person from gaining access to that to which they have a serious moral right. This seems paradoxical, and, towards the end of the paper, I seek to tease apart the paradox.