Documenti di Didattica
Documenti di Professioni
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doi:10.1093/jmp/jhq053
Advance Access publication on November 12, 2010
MICHAEL BESS*
Vanderbilt University, Nashville, Tennessee, USA
*Address correspondence to: Michael Bess, PhD, Department of History, Vanderbilt University,
VU Station B #351802, Nashville, TN 37235-1802, USA. E-mail: michael.d.bess@vanderbilt.edu
I. INTRODUCTION
As one launches into a discussion about the pros and cons of enhancing
human traits, it would be nice to be able to lay out a clear definition of what
“enhancement” means. Unfortunately, this word turns out to be one of
those slippery customers, like “obscenity,” “love,” or “freedom,” that stub-
bornly resists being pinned down, because it conveys a wide range of
meanings to different people under varying circumstances.2 Let us begin with
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“Exhibit A”—a remarkable article (Greely et al., 2008) published in the scien-
tific journal Nature, under the title “Towards responsible use of cognitive-
enhancing drugs by the healthy.” The authors (a distinguished group of
British and American scholars) note that the off-label use of pharmaceuti-
cals like Ritalin or Provigil to boost mental acuity in healthy persons is in-
creasing dramatically, not only on college campuses but in the business
world and the military as well. (Indeed, an informal survey conducted by
Nature among its readers earlier in 2008 [Maher, 2008] yielded the astonish-
ing revelation that fully 20% of the 1,400 respondents used such drugs—
many of them on a daily or weekly basis—to augment their own cognitive
performance.) Current laws in both the United Kingdom and United States
reflect a long-standing attitude of moral disapproval regarding these kinds
of chemical enhancements; accordingly, selling such drugs to another per-
son for off-label use carries the possibility of stiff fines and even prison
sentences. This is an unreasonable state of affairs, according to the article’s
authors. Boosting our cognitive capacities is a perfectly benign and logical
thing to do, they argue, and we need to stop criminalizing it and pushing it
underground:
Human ingenuity has given us means of enhancing our brains through inventions
such as written language, printing, and the Internet. . . . And we are all aware of
the abilities to enhance our brains with adequate exercise, nutrition, and sleep. The
drugs just reviewed, along with newer technologies such as brain stimulation and
prosthetic brain chips, should be viewed in the same general category as education,
good health habits, and information technology—ways that our uniquely innovative
species tries to improve itself (Greely et al., 2008, 702–5).
The conceptual move being deployed here is a rather straightforward one.
Because these authors wish to open the door for cognitive enhancements as
part of the legitimate everyday functioning of our society, they simply col-
lapse the distinction between such enhancements and other forms of bene-
ficial human activity. Even when I’m sleeping, according to them, I am in
one sense “enhancing” my ability to function better the next day. By this use
of the term, eating a peanut butter sandwich is not qualitatively different
from having a prosthetic hippocampus implanted in my brain: both “inter-
ventions” result in a net augmentation of my ability to think, as compared
with what would have been my ability if I had not undertaken them. (I can
never think clearly on an empty stomach.) This is unhelpful argumentation
at best—falling under Hegel’s famous category of “the night in which all
cows are black.” Whether or not we agree about the desirability of allowing
freer access to mind-boosting drugs (I happen to be among those who cau-
tiously support this position), we need to start with a frank assessment of the
qualitative differences that divide some forms of biotechnological interven-
tion from others. A Boeing 747 is qualitatively different from a pogo stick,
even though both devices render me temporarily airborne.
At one level, this seems like a perfectly reasonable distinction from which to
start. Humans do not have wings and cannot fly. Therefore, if we add wings
to some individuals through an ingenious application of bioengineering,
enabling them to flutter about over short distances, we are broadening the
normal human range of function for those persons. In other words, we are
taking a circumscribed area of capabilities—how humans move from place
We all know the difference between when we feel healthy and when we are
sick. Experience has presumably also taught us that health and sickness are
relative concepts, describing a range of mental states and physical conditions
spread out along a spectrum. Somewhere along that spectrum, our condition
deteriorates to a point at which we say to ourselves, “Dang, I’m catching a
cold.” A little further along, we hit the trigger point for visiting the doctor. If
we have a car accident on the way to the doctor, we may pass the threshold
for accepting hospitalization.
Some bioethicists have sought to use this easily accessible concept of
“a state of health” as a benchmark for discussing human enhancement
(Parens, 1998, 5–11). According to this view, doctors and practitioners of bio-
technology are justified in seeking to restore people to their customary state of
Is there or is there not a definite set of traits setting humans apart from other
sentient beings—and if so, what are those traits? This is a question that has
vexed philosophers, poets, and other humanists ever since the time of the
ancient Greeks (and no doubt before that as well) (Pinker, 2002). It bears di-
rect relevance to the debates over human enhancement because, if such a core
set of characteristics exists, then any major alteration of that core through the
re-engineering of its contents threatens our fundamental identity as a species.
This is precisely the position adopted by a conservative school of thinkers
whose ideas are best articulated in the works of the scholars Kass (2003) and
Fukuyama (2002). Since both these eminent social theorists were appointed
by President George W. Bush to the President’s Council on Bioethics in 2001
(with Kass serving as chairperson), their stance has acquired a semi-official
imprimatur and has been widely influential. Although both Kass and Fuku-
yama acknowledge the difficulty of pinning down any precise set of uniquely
human traits, they nonetheless share a passionate belief that such a core
does exist and that it is under serious threat. Biotechnology, they argue, is
gathering powers that will allow it to distort beyond recognition the essential
In the summer of 1996, the psychologist Jonathan Haidt did a little experi-
ment on himself: he went on Paxil, a mood-altering drug similar to Prozac.
He was not suffering from depression or any other seriously debilitating
condition, but he was curious to see what all the fuss over these kinds of
drugs was about:
For the first few weeks I had only side effects: some nausea, difficulty sleeping
through the night. . . . But then one day in week five, the world changed color. I
woke up one morning and no longer felt anxious about the heavy workload and
uncertain prospects of an untenured professor. It was like magic. A set of changes I
had wanted to make in myself for years—loosening up, lightening up, accepting my
mistakes without dwelling on them—happened overnight. However, Paxil had one
devastating side effect for me: it made it hard for me to recall facts and names, even
those I knew well. . . . I decided that as a professor I needed my memory more than I
needed peace of mind, so I stopped taking Paxil. Five weeks later, my memory came
back, along with my worries. What remained was a first-hand experience of wearing
rose-colored glasses, of seeing the world with new eyes (Haidt, 2006, 39–40).
Haidt’s experience raises one of the most common questions arising out of
human enhancement through pharmaceuticals: Which fellow is the real me?
If Haidt had not encountered the side effect of poor memory and had there-
fore stayed on the drug (as he unabashedly affirmed he would have done),
which man would have been the more authentic one: the anxious fellow
coping as best he could with his tenure worries, or the cheery young profes-
sor heartily enjoying the early years of his career? Is there something inher-
ently phony or disreputable about a state of light heartedness attained
through chemicals—even if that state is something to which a man has as-
pired all his life, and even if that state feels to him like a liberating release,
a chance to enjoy work and personal relationships much more fully and
deeply?
Implicit here are four very different meanings of personal authenticity:
Pristine Me. A condition or state in which I have remained pharmaceutically unmod-
ified, in the sense that I have ingested no mood-altering chemicals beyond those
contained in my customary diet.
questions. What if the drugs, in some cases, end up rendering the life of an
already healthy person even more meaningful than before? What if, instead
of closing down possibilities for rich experience out in the real world, they
open up such possibilities in new ways? What if they are not a cheap substi-
tute for life’s adventures and misadventures, but rather a device allowing
people to broaden the range of their undertakings and interactions? What if
they enable people to have more enduring and engaging relationships, bet-
ter and more challenging work, and more imaginative and satisfying play?
What if, instead of alienating our sovereignty over ourselves, the chemicals
allow us to gain a greater measure of control over destructive psychological
patterns that have defeated all our past efforts to reorient them?
It will not do, therefore, to issue a blanket condemnation of all chemical
interventions for human enhancement, tarring them indiscriminately with
the same brush of inauthenticity. The quality of authenticity comes into our
lives through many paths, and some of those paths may well pass through
the doorway of pharmaceuticals. Just because we have modified our lives in
such a way, this does not necessarily mean that our experiences will be less
meaningful, less valuable, and less “real,” as a result. The very opposite may
sometimes be the case.
VIII. CONCLUSIONS
My purpose in this article has been to show why we need to use the word
“enhancement” with a certain amount of circumspection. In particular, we
need to be aware of the tendency to embed this concept within stark binary
oppositions that seem perfectly reasonable at first glance, but that in fact
yield little more than conceptual muddles if they are not handled carefully.
The idea of enhancement is often played off against concepts like “normal,”
“healthy,” “therapeutics,” “species typical,” “natural,” and “authentic” as foils
through which to define it. There is nothing inherently wrong with this;
indeed, it is probably unavoidable because these concepts form the neces-
sary basis on which most discussions of medicine, technology, and human
nature tend to take place.
The main problem, I have argued, lies in overestimating the clarity and
fixity of these basic concepts. They are not worthless ideas, because in a
great many cases they convey potent and useful meaning. A forest meadow
is a more natural place than a city. A person with pancreatic cancer is less
healthy than a person whose chief complaint is a tension headache. Wings
are not part of the species-typical profile of humans. Nevertheless, it is im-
portant to be aware of the gray areas that characterize all these concepts,
and to bear in mind the fact that, in many cases, we are really describing
broad, relative spectra of variation rather than straightforward, binary oppo-
sitions. Some of the resulting distinctions will be abundantly clear and pos-
sess a quality of intuitive absoluteness that leaves us trenchantly confident;
others will elude all our best efforts to pin them down, and leave us with
little more than a toss-up, a relative weighing of qualities irreducibly in ten-
sion with each other. The “authenticity” of Jonathan’s Haidt’s emotional
states, before and after taking Paxil, stands as a case in point: thoughtful
people who have carefully considered the implications of his story can still
end up in sharp disagreement.
We find ourselves, therefore, in an epistemological “middle zone.” On one
side, we have the misguided clarity of the binary oppositions. At the other
extreme lies the shapeless relativism that results if we simply throw out all
these concepts because of the aporias they unavoidably entail. We need to
reject both extremes, and acknowledge that some distinctions will wind up
relatively straightforward and satisfying, whereas others will leave us with a
frown of nervous compromise and approximation. One thing is clear: we
cannot let this epistemological instability stop us from proceeding with our
analysis. These topics are too important for that. But it nonetheless helps to
know where the main pitfalls lie.
NOTES
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The author would like to thank the following institutions for supporting the research project from which
this article derives: the John Simon Guggenheim Memorial Foundation, the American Council of Learned
Societies, the Ethical, Legal, and Social Implications program of the National Human Genome Research
Institute, the College of Arts and Science at Vanderbilt University, and the endowment for the Chancellor’s
Chair in History at Vanderbilt.
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