Anna Smajdor

Can discussion with members of the public show philosophers where they have gone wrong? Leslie Cannold argues that it can in her 1995 paper ‘Women, Ectogenesis and Ethical Theory’, which investigates the ways in which women reason about abortion and ectogenesis. In her study, Cannold interviewed female non-philosophers. She divided her participants into separate ‘pro-life’ and ‘pro-choice’ groups and asked them to consider whether the availability of ectogenesis would change their views about the morality of dealing with an unwanted pregnancy. The women in Cannold’s study gave responses that did not map onto the dominant tropes in the philosophical literature. Yet Cannold did not attempt to reason with her participants, and her engagement with the philosophical literature is oddly limited, focussing only on the pro-choice perspective. In this paper, I explore the question of whether Cannold is correct that philosophers’ reasoning about abortion is lacking in some way. I suggest that there are alternative conclusions to be drawn from the data she gathered and that a critical approach is necessary when attempting to undertake philosophy informed by empirical data.

In this paper, I aim to show that a certain form of immortality, without the need for any intervention from a supernatural being, is almost inevitable for human beings. I take a physicalist starting point: I am a certain configuration of physical particles. Thus, if these particles were reassembled in the same configuration, I would necessarily come back into existence. I address a number of objections raised against this prospect by Eric T. Olson, who argues that the reassembly of such particles following their dispersal after death would be simply impossible, and that if it did occur, it would necessarily be a mere replica rather than the real ‘me’. I suggest that the random redistribution of particles can be thought of as the throw of cosmic ‘dice’. With any specific throw, the likelihood that it yields the particular configuration that constitutes ‘me’ is vanishingly small. But over infinite spans of time, this likelihood increases until it becomes a near certainty. I show that even if this reconfiguration lacks the same causal features as those that gave rise to the original me, this cannot imply that the reassembled me is a mere replica. I acknowledge that my conjectured form of immortality may be unappealing to theists and non-theists alike. I also note that it rests on a linear conception of time, which may not harmonise with current thinking in physics. However, these issues notwithstanding, my conjectured version of immortality is at least as inexorable as many other things we take for granted, which also rest on potentially flawed beliefs about the nature of time and space.

Ellie Anderson had always known that she wanted to have children. Her mother, Louise, was aware of this wish. Ellie was designated male at birth, but according to news sources, identified as a girl from the age of three. She was hoping to undergo gender reassignment surgery at 18, but died unexpectedly at only 16, leaving Louise grappling not only with the grief of losing her daughter, but with a complex legal problem. Ellie had had her sperm frozen before starting hormone treatment, specifically so that she would retain the chance of becoming a parent after her gender reassignment. Ellie had considered what might happen to the sperm if she died and was adamant that her children should be brought into the world. She made her mother promise to ensure that this would happen. But according to UK law, Ellie’s mother has no legal right to retain her sperm, or to use it to fulfil Ellie’s wishes. In this paper, we raise several key ethical questions on this case, namely: does a refusal to bring Ellie’s children into the world wrong her posthumously? Is Ellie’s mother morally entitled to use her daughter’s sperm as Ellie wished? Should the fact that Ellie was a minor at the time of her death or the fact that she was transgendered undermine her wish to have children? Can Ellie become a parent posthumously? We consider how these complex ethical questions could be approached.

This document is designed to give guidance on assessing researchers in bioethics/medical ethics. It is intended to assist members of selection, confirmation and promotion committees, who are required to assess those conducting bioethics research when they are not from a similar disciplinary background. It does not attempt to give guidance on the quality of bioethics research, as this is a matter for peer assessment. Rather it aims to give an indication of the type, scope and amount of research that is the expected in this field. It does not cover the assessment of other activities such as teaching, policy work, clinical ethics consultation and so on, but these will be mentioned for additional context. Although it mentions the UK’s Research Excellence Framework, it is not intended to be a detailed analysis of the place of bioethics in the REF.

Fetal surgery has been practised for some decades now. However, it remains a highly complex area, both medically and ethically. This paper shows how the routine use of ultrasound has been a catalyst for fetal surgery, in creating new needs and new incentives for intervention. Some of the needs met by fetal surgery are those of parents and clinicians who experience stress while waiting for the birth of a fetus with known anomalies. The paper suggests that the role of technology and visualisation techniques in creating and meeting such new needs is ethically problematic. It then addresses the idea that fetal surgery should be restricted to interventions that are life-saving for the fetus, arguing that this restriction is unduly paternalistic. Fetal surgery poses challenges for an autonomy-based system of ethics. However, it is risky to circumvent these challenges by restricting the choices open to pregnant women, even when these choices appear excessively altruistic.

In his book Reasons and Persons, Derek Parfit suggests that people are not harmed by being conceived with a disease or disability if they could not have existed without suffering that particular condition. He nevertheless contends that entities can be harmed if the suffering they experience is sufficiently severe. By implication, there is a threshold which divides harmful from non-harmful conceptions. The assumption that such a threshold exists has come to play a part in UK policy making. I argue that Parfit’s distinction between harmful and non-harmful conceptions is untenable. Drawing on Kant’s refutation of the ontological argument for God’s existence, I suggest that the act of creation cannot be identical with the act of harming—nor indeed of benefiting—however great the offspring’s suffering may be. I suggest that Parfit is right that bringing children into existence does not usually harm them, but I argue that this must be applied to all conceptions, since Parfit cannot show how the harm threshold can be operationalised. If we think certain conceptions are unethical or should be illegal, this must be on other grounds than that the child is harmed by them. I show that a Millian approach in this context fails to exemplify the empirical and epistemological advantages which are commonly associated with it, and that harm-based legislation would need to be based on broader harm considerations than those relating to the child who is conceived.

Recently, several claims have been made that free provision of in vitro fertilisation will boost our economy. This is premised on the assumption that people provide more in terms of tax and insurance than they consume in resources, leaving an overall gain. Even where these ‘replacement’ people are created by means of IVF, it is argued that the costs involved are easily offset by the financial contribution we can expect IVF-conceived adults to make to our economy. However, although it may be true that the creation of a new person constitutes an overall financial gain to the state, I question the degree to which the arithmetic involved is as simple as the reports suggest.Research presented by a group of scientists at the annual conference of the European Society of Human Reproduction and Embryology in Prague, which has been widely reported in the media, has suggested that it is in our society’s economic interests to fund access to in vitro fertilisation treatments.1,2 The team, led by Professor William Ledger from the University of Sheffield, claims that for each IVF baby born, the economy makes a net gain. But can this possibly be true? IVF is an expensive procedure, which by its very nature creates more claimants on state funds and National Health Service resources. IVF also takes a financial and physical toll on all those involved: the women, their partners, and the children born as a result. It might be assumed that state funding of IVF would be a drain on public resources, rather than boosting them. However, the researchers have suggested otherwise. Their claim is that the average £13 000 that it costs to create a baby using IVF is far exceeded by the average of £160 000 in taxes and insurance that will …

Empathy is commonly regarded as an essential attribute for doctors and there is a conviction that empathy must be taught to medical students. Yet it is not clear exactly what empathy is, from a philosophical or sociological point of view, or whether it can be taught. The meaning, role and relevance of empathy in medical education have tended to be unquestioningly assumed; there is a need to examine and contextualise these assumptions. This paper opens up that debate, arguing that ‘empathy’, as it is commonly understood, is neither necessary nor sufficient to guarantee good medical or ethical practice