rather than chance.
Jürgen Habermas, in a recent work, echoes Jonas’ concern and worries that even the mere knowledge of having been intentionally made by another could have ruinous consequences:
We cannot rule out that knowledge of one’s own hereditary features as programmed may prove to restrict the choice of an individual’s life, and to undermine the essentially symmetrical relations between free and equal human beings.11
A transhumanist could reply that it would be a mistake for an individual to believe that she has no choice over her own life just because some (or all) of her genes were selected by her parents. She would, in fact, have as much choice as if her genetic constitution had been selected by chance. It could even be that she would enjoy significantly more choice and autonomy in her life, if the modifications were such as to expand her basic capability set. Being healthy, smarter, having a wide range of talents, or possessing greater powers of self‐control are blessings that tend to open more life paths than they block.
Even if there were a possibility that some genetically‐modified individuals might fail to grasp these points and thus might feel oppressed by their knowledge of their origin, that would be a risk to be weighed against the risks incurred by having an unmodified genome, risks that can be extremely grave. If safe and effective alternatives were available, it would be irresponsible to risk starting someone off in life with the misfortune of congenitally diminished basic capacities or an elevated susceptibility to disease.
Why We Need Posthuman Dignity
Similarly ominous forecasts were made in the seventies about the severe psychological damage that children conceived through in vitro; fertilization would suffer upon learning that they originated from a test tube – a prediction that turned out to be entirely false. It is hard to avoid the impression that some bias or philosophical prejudice is responsible for the readiness with which many bioconservatives seize on even the flimsiest of empirical justifications for banning human enhancement technologies of certain types but not others. Suppose it turned out that playing Mozart to pregnant mothers improved the child’s subsequent musical talent. Nobody would argue for a ban on Mozart‐in‐the‐womb on grounds that we cannot rule out that some psychological woe might befall the child once she discovers that her facility with the violin had been prenatally ‘programmed’ by her parents. Yet when, for example, it comes to genetic enhancements, eminent bioconservative writers often put forward arguments that are not so very different from this parody as weighty, if not conclusive, objections. To transhumanists, this looks like doublethink. How can it be that to bioconservatives almost any anticipated downside, predicted perhaps on the basis of the shakiest pop‐psychological theory, so readily achieves that status of deep philosophical insight and knockdown objection against the transhumanist project?
Perhaps a part of the answer can be found in the different attitudes that transhumanists and bioconservatives have towards posthuman dignity. Bioconservatives tend to deny posthuman dignity and view posthumanity as a threat to human dignity. They are therefore tempted to look for ways to denigrate interventions that are thought to be pointing in the direction of more radical future modifications that may eventually lead to the emergence of those detestable posthumans. But unless this fundamental opposition to the posthuman is openly declared as a premise of their argument, this then forces them to use a double standard of assessment whenever particular cases are considered in isolation: for example, one standard for germ‐line genetic interventions and another for improvements in maternal nutrition (an intervention presumably not seen as heralding a posthuman era).
Transhumanists, by contrast, see human and posthuman dignity as compatible and complementary. They insist that dignity, in its modern sense, consists in what we are and what we have the potential to become, not in our pedigree or our causal origin. What we are is not a function solely of our DNA but also of our technological and social context. Human nature in this broader sense is dynamic, partially human‐made, and improvable. Our current extended phenotypes (and the lives that we lead) are markedly different from those of our hunter‐gatherer ancestors. We read and write, we wear clothes, we live in cities, we earn money and buy food from the supermarket, we call people on the telephone, watch television, read newspapers, drive cars, file taxes, vote in national elections, women give birth in hospitals, life‐expectancy is three times longer than in the Pleistocene, we know that the Earth is round and that stars are large gas clouds lit from inside by nuclear fusion, and that the universe is approximately 13.7 billion years old and enormously big. In the eyes of a hunter‐gatherer, we might already appear ‘posthuman’. Yet these radical extensions of human capabilities – some of them biological, others external – have not divested us of moral status or dehumanized us in the sense of making us generally unworthy and base. Similarly, should we or our descendants one day succeed in becoming what relative to current standards we may refer to as posthuman, this need not entail a loss dignity either.
From the transhumanist standpoint, there is no need to behave as if there were a deep moral difference between technological and other means of enhancing human lives. By defending posthuman dignity we promote a more inclusive and humane ethics, one that will embrace future technologically modified people as well as humans of the contemporary kind. We also remove a distortive double standard from the field of our moral vision, allowing us to perceive more clearly the opportunities that exist for further human progress.12
Notes
1 1 N. Bostrom. 2003. The Transhumanist FAQ, v. 2.1. World Transhumanist Association.
2 2 N. Bostrom. Human Genetic Enhancements: A Transhumanist Perspective. Journal of Value Inquiry, Vol. 37, No. 4, pp. 493–506.
3 3 L. Kass. Ageless Bodies, Happy Souls: Biotechnology and the Pursuit of Perfection. The New Atlantis 2003; 1.
4 4 See e.g. J. Glover. 2001. Humanity: A Moral History of the Twentieth Century. New Haven. Yale University Press.
5 5 L. Kass. 2002. Life, Liberty, and Defense of Dignity: The Challenge for Bioethics. San Francisco. Encounter Books: p. 48.
6 6 G. Annas, L. Andrews and R. Isasi. Protecting the Endangered Human: Toward an International Treaty Prohibiting Cloning and Inheritable Alterations. American Journal of Law and Medicine 2002; 28, 2&3: p. 162.
7 7 J. A. Simpson and E. Weiner, eds. 1989. The Oxford English Dictionary, 2nd ed. Oxford. Oxford University Press.
8 8 F. Fukuyama. 2002. Our Posthuman Future: Consequences of the Biotechnology Revolution. New York. Farrar, Strauss and Giroux, p. 149.
9 9 Fukuyama, Our Posthuman Future, p. 160.
10 10 H. Jonas. 1985. Technik, Medizin und Ethik: Zur Praxis des Prinzips Verantwortung. Frankfurt am Main. Suhrkamp.
11 11 J. Habermas. 2003. The Future of Human Nature. Oxford. Blackwell, p. 23.
12 12 For their comments I am grateful to Heather Bradshaw, John Brooke, Aubrey de Grey, Robin Hanson, Matthew Liao, Julian Savulescu, Eliezer Yudkowsky, Nick Zangwill, and to the audiences at the Ian Ramsey Center seminar