Daniel Groll

abstract Is it permissible for a doctor or nurse to knowingly administer a placebo in a clinical setting? There is certainly something suspicious about it: placebos are typically said to be ‘sham’ treatments, with no ‘active’ properties and so giving a placebo is usually thought to involve tricking or deceiving the patient who expects a genuine treatment. Nonetheless, some physicians have recently suggested that placebo treatments are sometimes the best way to help their patients and can be administered in an honest way. These physicians conclude that placebo treatments are a perfectly acceptable, and ethically unproblematic, mode of treatment. While I grant the common idea that placebos are deceptive is correct, I argue that widespread misunderstandings concerning why this is so has led proponents of placebo treatments to respond to the charge of deception in a way that misses the mark entirely. My goal in this paper, then, is to develop a precise conception of what makes something a placebo, which in turn will clarify the central charge concerning the ethics of placebo treatment, viz. that it is deceptive.

In general, we think that when it comes to the good of another, we respect that person’s will by acting in accordance with what he wills because he wills it. I argue that this is not necessarily true. When it comes to the good of another person, it is possible to disrespect that person’s will while acting in accordance with what he wills because he wills it. Seeing how this is so, I argue, enables us to clarify the distinct roles that the wills of competent and incompetent people should play in third-party deliberations about their welfare.

In discussions about the ethics of enhancement, it is often claimed that the concept of ‘human nature’ has no helpful role to play. There are two ideas behind this thought. The first is that nature, human nature included, is a mixed bag. Some parts of our nature are good for us and some are bad for us. The ‘mixed bag’ idea leads naturally to the second idea, namely that the fact that something is part of our nature is, by itself, normatively inert. The Inert View claims that nothing normative follows from the mere fact that some trait is a part of our nature. If the Inert View is correct, then appeals to the value or importance of human nature in debates about enhancement are indeed misplaced. We argue that the Inert View is wrong, and that a certain concept of human nature – which we refer to as human form – does have an important role to play in debates about enhancement.

This chapter considers an epistemological argument from disagreement which concludes that many of most people’s moral beliefs do not amount to knowledge. Various ways of understanding the argument are considered and it is argued that each relies on an epistemic principle that is under-motivated, overgeneralizes, and is indeed self-incriminating. These problems, it is suggested, infect many conciliationist theses in the epistemology of disagreement. Knowledge, it is argued, can withstand not only acknowledged peer disagreement, but also disagreement with the acknowledged experts. If this is right, then the sort of epistemic principle that is required to move from moral disagreement to the conclusion that many of most people’s moral beliefs do not amount to knowledge has landed well off the mark.

The Significant Interest view entails that even if there were no medical reasons to have access to genetic knowledge, there would still be reason for prospective parents to use an identity-release donor as opposed to an anonymous donor. This view does not depend on either the idea that genetic knowledge is profoundly prudentially important or that donor-conceived people have a right to genetic knowledge. Rather, it turns on general claims about parents’ obligations to help promote their children’s well-being and the connection between a person’s well-being and the satisfaction of what I call their “worthwhile significant subjective interests.” To put this view simply, the fact that a donor-conceived person—who knows she is donor-conceived—is likely to be very interested in acquiring genetic knowledge gives prospective parents a weighty reason to use an identity-release donor. This is because parents should promote their children’s well-being through the satisfaction of their children’s worthwhile significant interests.

Cases of non-traditional family-making offer a rich seam for thinking about normative parenthood. Gamete donors are genetically related to the resulting offspring but are not thought to be normative parents. Gestational surrogates are also typically not thought to be normative parents, despite having gestated a child. Adoptive parents are typically thought to be normative parents even though they are neither genetically nor gestationally related to their child. Philosophers have paid attention to these kinds of cases. But they have not paid attention to what the people who have engaged in these forms of family-making have to say about what they’re doing and, more specifically, how they answer the questions: “Who is the normative parent? And why?” Paying attention to their answers reveals two things. First, accounts of parenthood from people involved in two forms of non-traditional family-making – reproduction with gestational surrogacy and reproduction with donated eggs – are mutually inconsistent. This is not surprising. What is surprising is that the contradictory aspects of the views evince a common commitment to, as I shall put it, naturalizing parenthood. The central goal of this paper is to explain what that means, but rough idea is that in naturalizing parenthood, prospective parents aim to put the features that make someone a normative parent beyond the reach of human agency. I conclude by briefly suggesting that we should think of the grounds of normative parenthood – and the very task of theorizing about the grounds of normative parenthood – in a way that avoids the need to naturalize altogether.

The connections between medicine and well-being are myriad. This paper focuses on the place of well-being in clinical medicine. It is here that different views of well-being, and their connection to concepts like “autonomy” and “authenticity”, both illuminate and are illuminated by looking closely at the kinds of interactions that routinely take place between clinicians, patients, and family members. In the first part of the paper, I explore the place of well-being in a paradigmatic clinical encounter, one where a competent patient interacts with a clinician. The main question here is how, or even whether, the pursuit of patient well-being – however we construe it – figures into a paradigmatic clinical encounter. In the second part of the paper, I consider what I will call a marginal clinical encounter – one where the patient is, as Agnieska Jaworska (1999) puts it, at the “margins of agency” – to theorize about the nature of well-being and to show how different theories of well-being can have dramatic consequences for clinical decision-making.

Are there any deep or systematic connections between paternalism and people's rights? Perhaps the connection is definitional: part of what makes an action or policy paternalistic is that it violates a right. Or perhaps the connection is normative: paternalism is (always? often? only sometimes?) morally problematic because it violates people's rights (even if we don't define "paternalism" in terms of a rights violation). My main goal in this paper is to argue for the normative connection. Part of the task will be to explain exactly what the normative connection is. That will involve answering the questions embedded in the claim as well as offering an account of the right(s) that is (are) connected to paternalism's normative status.

What, if anything, is wrong with acquiring moral beliefs on the basis of testimony? Most philosophers think that there is something wrong with it, and most point to a special problem that moral testimony is supposed to create for moral agency. Being a good moral agent involves more than bringing about the right outcomes. It also involves acting with "moral understanding" and one cannot have moral understanding of what one is doing via moral testimony. And so, adherents to this view claim, relying on moral testimony is problematic. Importantly, the problem that afflicts moral testimony, according to this view, is not a problem for testimonial knowledge in general. Indeed, critics of moral testimony acknowledge that a vast amount of our knowledge comes, completely unproblematically, from testimony. Call this the Asymmetry Thesis. We argue that while the diagnosis of what is wrong with moral testimony (when there is something wrong with it) in terms of moral understanding is correct, the lesson many of its adherents draw from it, namely that there is a principled difference between moral an non-moral testimony which renders the first, but not the second, problematic, is not. In other words, we argue that the Asymmetry Thesis is false.

Medical clinicians – doctors, nurses, nurse practitioners etc. – are charged to act for the good of their patients. But not all ways of acting for a patient's good are on par: some are paternalistic; others are not. What does it mean to act paternalistically, both in general and specifically in a medical context? And when, if ever, is it permissible for a clinician to act paternalistically? In Medical Paternalism Part 1, I answered the first question. This paper answers the second. The place of paternalism in clinical medicine is best understood, I argue, in terms of the potential for conflict between the autonomy principle and the beneficence principle. The first enjoins clinicians to respect the decisions of patients with respect to their (the patients') own care. The second enjoins clinicians to act for the good of their patients. Clinicians act paternalistically, I argue, when they act on the beneficence principle to the exclusion of the autonomy principle. Understanding just what these principles amount to (particularly the autonomy principle) reveals that the autonomy principle defeasibly trumps the beneficence principle and that, as a result, acting paternalistically (at least when it comes to competent patients) is presumptively impermissible

Medical clinicians – doctors, nurses, nurse practitioners etc. – are charged to act for the good of their patients. But not all ways of acting for a patient's good are on par: some are paternalistic; others are not. What does it mean to act paternalistically, both in general and specifically in a medical context? And when, if ever, is it permissible for a clinician to act paternalistically? This paper deals with the first question, with a special focus on paternalism in medicine. While it is easy to give a rough characterization of paternalism (i.e. acting for another's good against that person's will), it is surprisingly difficult to provide a unified account of the myriad of actions that seem to count as paternalistic. After surveying four accounts of paternalism, I argue that two – what I call the authority and beneficence accounts – are the strongest on offer. According to the authority account, a clinician acts paternalistically when, for her patient's good, she usurps his decision-making authority. According to the beneficence account, a clinician acts paternalistically when, for her patient's good, she acts only or overrindingly out of concern for his good. I show how the difference between these accounts matters (in part) for how we should think about the nature of surrogate decision making in medicine. I argue that there are reasons – albeit hardly decisive – to prefer the beneficence account to the authority account. I conclude by considering whether attempts by clinicians to rationally persuade their patients to pursue a particular course of action should be thought of as paternalistic.

Cases of paternalism usually involve disagreement between the paternalist and the paternalized subject. But not all the disagreements that give rise to paternalism are of the same kind and, as a result, not all instances of paternalism are morally on a par. There is, in other words, a moral difference between different kinds of paternalism, which can be explained in terms of the nature of the disagreements that give rise to the paternalism in the first place. This paper offers a novel account of how to characterize the nature of these disagreements such that we can explain this moral difference.

In this article, I distinguish between 4 models for thinking about how to balance the interests of parents, families, and a sick child: (1) the oxygen mask model; (2) the wide interests model; (3) the family interests model; and (4) the direct model. The oxygen mask model – which takes its name from flight attendants' directives to parents to put on their own oxygen mask before putting on their child's – says that parents should consider their own interests only insofar as doing so is, ultimately, good for the sick child. The wide interests model suggests that in doing well by my child I am at the very same time doing well by myself. My interests can, and plausibly do, encompass the interests of others; they are, to that extent, wide. There is, then, no sharp separation between the interests of the sick child and the interests of other family members. In the family interests model, families themselves are seen as having interests that are neither identical to the sum, nor a simple function, of the interests of individual family members. The family has goals, values, and aspirations that are essentially corporate rather than individual. According to this model, these family interests can explain why sacrifices can sometimes be demanded of some family members for the sake of others in a medical setting. Finally, the direct model takes a simpler view of family members' interests; it claims that these interests matter simply on their own and should be taken into account in making treatment decisions for a sick child. This model openly considers the competing interests that parents and other family members often have when caring for a sick child, and advocates for weighing those interests when making decisions for and about the sick child. While there is room for all four models at the bedside, I argue that the direct model should be highlighted in clinical decision-making.

Each year, tens of thousands of children are conceived with donated gametes (sperm or eggs). By some estimates, there are over one million donor-conceived people in the United States and, of course, many more the world over. Some know they are donor-conceived. Some do not. Some know the identity of their donors. Others never will. Questions about what donor-conceived people should know about their genetic progenitors are hugely significant for literally millions of people, including donor-conceived people, their parents, and donors. But the practice of gamete donation also provides a vivid occasion for thinking about questions that matter to everyone. What is the value of knowing who your genetic progenitors are? How are our identities bound up with knowing where we come from? What obligations do parents have to their children? And what makes someone a parent in the first place? In Conceiving People: Identity, Genetics and Gamete Donation, Daniel Groll argues that people who plan to create a child with donated gametes should choose a donor whose identity will be made available to the resulting child. This is not, Groll argues, because having genetic knowledge is fundamentally important. Rather, it is because donor-conceived people are likely to develop a significant interest in having genetic knowledge and parents must help satisfy their children's significant interests. In other words, because a donor-conceived person is likely to care about having genetic knowledge, their parents should care too.

Parents respond to the death of a child in very different ways. Some parents may be violent or angry, some sad and tearful, some quiet and withdrawn, and some frankly delusional. We present a case in which a father’s reaction to his daughter’s death is a desire to protect his wife from the stressful information. The wife is in the second trimester of a high-risk pregnancy and so is particularly fragile. We asked pediatricians and bioethicists to discuss the ways in which they might respond to the father’s understandable but troubling request. The death of a young child is one of the most stressful events that can happen to parents. The stress of such a loss is compounded if the parents are in a foreign country, far from home, and without a network of family and friends to provide social support. The stress may be more difficult to deal with if the parents have acute health problems of their own. In this month’s “Ethics Rounds,” we present a case in which a father whose daughter died requested that the doctors delay telling his wife. His reason: She is pregnant, in the second trimester, and on bed rest because of preterm labor. He does not want to add to her stress. We asked both pediatricians and bioethicists to respond to this request.