Donna Dickenson

How can we allocate scarce health care resources justly? In particular, are markets the most efficient way to deliver health services? Much blood, sweat and ink has been shed over this issue, but rarely has either faction challenged the unspoken assumption behind the claim made by advocates of markets: that efficiency advances the interests of both individuals and society. Whether markets actually do increase efficiency is arguably a matter for economists, but the deeper ethical question is whether efficiency is the correct criterion, in terms of social justice and individual needs.

A dilemma exists when a doctor is faced with a child or young person who refuses medically indicated treatment. The Gillick case has been interpreted by many to mean that a child of sufficient age and intelligence could validly consent or refuse consent to treatment. Recent decisions of the Court of Appeal on a child's refusal of medical treatment have clouded the issue and undermined the spirit of the Gillick decision and the Children Act 1989. It is now the case that a child patient whose competence is in doubt will be found rational if he or she accepts the proposal to treat but may be found incompetent if he or she disagrees. Practitioners are alerted to the anomalies now exhibited by the law on the issue of children's consent and refusal. The impact of the decisions from the perspectives of medicine, ethics, and the law are examined. Practitioners should review each case of child care carefully and in cases of doubt seek legal advice.

To assess whether UK and US health care professionals share the views of medical ethicists about medical futility, withdrawing/withholding treatment, ordinary/extraordinary interventions, and the doctrine of double effect. A 138-item attitudinal questionnaire completed by 469 UK nurses studying the Open University course on "Death and Dying" was compared with a similar questionnaire administered to 759 US nurses and 687 US doctors taking the Hastings Center course on "Decisions near the End of Life". Practitioners accept the relevance of concepts widely disparaged by bioethicists: double effect, medical futility, and the distinctions between heroic/ordinary interventions and withholding/withdrawing treatment. Within the UK nurses' group a "rationalist" axis of respondents who describe themselves as having "no religion" are closer to the bioethics consensus on withholding and withdrawing treatment. Professionals' beliefs differ substantially from the recommendations of their professional bodies and from majority opinion in bioethics. Bioethicists should be cautious about assuming that their opinions will be readily accepted by practitioners.

It is well known that there is a shortage of human ova for in vitro fertilization (IVF) purposes, but little attention has been paid to the way in which the demand for ova in stem-cell technologies is likely to exacerbate that shortfall and create a trade in human eggs. Because the 'Dolly' technology relies on enucleated ova in large quantities, allowing for considerable wastage, there is a serious threat that commercial and research demands for human eggs will grow exponentially from the combination of these two pressures. In the absence of legal regulation in the United Kingdom, and in the context of a globalized trade in human organs, we face a 'Wild West' situation in genetic and biotechnological research that involves human ova.

In this article I evaluate a resurrected French resistance movement--to biotechnological commodification. The official French view that ‘the body is the person’ has been dismissed as a ‘taboo’ by the French political scientist Dominique Memmi . Yet France has indeed resisted the models of globalised commodification adopted in US bioechnology, as, for example, when the government blocked a research collaboration between the American firm Millennium Pharmaceuticals and a leading genomics laboratory, le Centre d’Etude du Polymorphisme Humain, on the grounds the ‘French DNA’ should not be given away. This example, however, itself suggests why the ‘new French Resistance’ is not altogether liberating. The absolutist conception of all bodies as belonging to the French state—indeed, as constituting the body politic —is so potentially invasive that a counter-ideology of inviolability of the body is maintained assiduously. This inviolability is defended particularly strongly against commercialisation, but only at the moment when tissue is taken from the individual subject, who is not to be paid or compensated-- although commercial enterprises who subsequently use the tissue are not similarly constrained.

Does advocating women's reproductive rights require us to believe that women own property in their bodies? In this chapter I conclude that it does not. Although the concept of owning our own bodies — ‘whose body is it anyway?’ — has polemical and political utility, it is incoherent in philosophy and law. Rather than conflate the entirely plausible concept of women’s reproductive rights and the implausible notion of property in the body, we should keep them separate, so that the weakness of the second concept does not contaminate the purity of the first.

Most opponents of somatic cell nuclear transfer and embryonic stem cell technologies base their arguments on the twin assertions that the embryo is either a human being or a potential human being, and that it is wrong to destroy a human being or potential human being in order to produce stem cell lines. Proponents’ justifications of stem cell research are more varied, but not enough to escape the charge of obsession with the status of the embryo. What unites the two warring sides in ‘the stem cell wars’ is that women are equally invisible to both: ‘the lady vanishes.’ Yet the most legitimate property in the body is that which women possess in their reproductive tissue and the products of their reproductive labour. By drawing on the accepted characterisation in the common law of property as a bundle of rights, and on a Hegelian model of contract as mutual recognition, we can lessen the impact of the tendency to regard women and their ova as merely receptacles and women’s reproductive labour as unimportant.

A ‘should’ question normally signals work for an ethicist but this ethicist’s task is complicated by the normative dimension of all the chapters in this volume. Each author was asked to come up with three recommendations from their own subject area – ’should’ statements deriving from the ‘is’ analysis that they present. If those prescriptions cover the relevant topics, what more is there for an ethicist to do? I have had a personal interest in obstetricians’ relationship with ‘older women’ since being classified as an ‘elderly primigravida’ at the superannuated age of 26 years. Apart from that, however, what original contribution can I make? The convenors of the 56th RCOG Study Group gave me plentiful suggestions – perhaps a little too plentiful: How should the RCOG approach its constituencies, medical ethics, regulation and its relationship to government and the rest of the medical profession, i.e. the NHS and the market, vested interests, individuals or consumers, families, the unborn, doctors, drug companies, surrogacy, the unborn, trafficking, global adoption, law, research? I have to admit this was just too much for me. Instead, I want to argue for what may seem a self-evidently simple point. The RCOG describes its mission as ‘setting standards to improve women’s health’ – presumably all women. In the 6 years that I have served on the RCOG Ethics Committee, however, we have almost always been concerned with that minority of the female population who are of reproductive age.

Whilst India has been debating how to regulate 'surrogacy' the UK has undergone a major consultation on increasing the amount of 'expenses'paid to egg 'donors', while France has recently finished debating its entire package of bioethics regulation and the role of its Biomedicine Agency. Although it is often claimed that there is no alternative to the neo-liberal, market-based approach in regulating (or not) reproductive medicine--the ideology prevalent in both India and the UK--advocates of that position ignore the alternative model offered by France's tighter regulation, as well as its overarching concern with protecting the vulnerable and ensuring social justice. Whilst the concepts underpinning the French model of regulation also have their provenance in Western political philosophy and not in the developed world, they embody a very different attitude and suggest that there is indeed an alternative to letting the market decide. However, even in France that alternative is highly contested.

Should we do whatever science lets us do? This short introduction in the 'All That Matters' series shows how developments in biotechnology, such as genetics, stem cell research and artificial reproduction, arouse both our greatest hopes and our greatest fears. Many people invest the new biotechnology with all the aspirations and faith once accorded to religious salvation. But does everyone benefit equally from scientific progress? This book argues that although we've entered new scientific territory, there is no need to jettison our existing moral sense. By discussing a range of real-life cases, it equips readers to make up their own minds on these important questions. Good science and good ethics needn't be contradictory.

Even in the increasingly individualized American medical system, advocates of 'personalized medicine' claim that healthcare isn't individualized enough. With the additional glamour of new biotechnologies such as genetic testing and pharmacogenetics behind it, 'Me Medicine'-- personalized or stratified medicine-- appears to its advocates as the inevitable and desirable way of the future. Drawing on an extensive evidence base, this book examines whether these claims are justified. It goes on to examine an alternative tradition rooted in communitarian ideals, that of the common good as a goal in medicine.

In this chapter I argue that the old common law concept of the commons can make a major contribution to how we regulate human tissue and genetic information in the twenty-first century. But if we want to use this concept, we will have to act fast, because private corporate interests have already realised the relevance of the commons for holdings in human tissue and genetic information. Instead of a commonly created and held resource, however, they have sought to create one derived from many persons' mutual labour but owned privately: what I call, with deliberate irony, a 'corporate commons'.