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The New
Eugenics: Better than the Old By Matt
Ridley (from National Review, July 31, 2000) The entire human genome has been read. Even
ten years ago, that seemed a distant goal; but last month, scientists
announced that they have completed reading a "rough draft" of the
complete recipe for a human being. It will soon be available on compact disc
for anybody to read: a book 800 times longer than the Bible. This breakthrough
will open an amazing world of possibilities for medicine-including the
prediction, prevention, and treatment of many diseases, from kidney stones to
cancer. But why stop at disease? Instead of merely
eliminating the negative, why not accentuate the positive-by tinkering with
the text to improve it? After all, in pursuit of the perfect human being, we
have willingly tried every weapon that falls into our hands, from prayer to
psychoanalysis to breast implants. Will we-and should we-do the same with
genes? It is fashionable to answer that we should
not, that we probably nonetheless will, and that that would be a disaster; I
am more sanguine. Genetically modified people will not pose a great threat to
society, even if we choose to create them; but we will, on the whole, not
choose to create them, so there is little to worry about on this score. A
Sad Legacy Discussions of these issues are burdened by a
complicated history. A century ago, progressive social reformers were
obsessed by the new agenda of "eugenics." There was a sense of
urgency in their desire to improve the human race by selective breeding. It
had worked well enough in cattle and chickens, but we human beings were not
only failing to breed from the best specimens; we were allowing the worst to
have the most children. "Some day," said Theodore Roosevelt
in 1910, "we will realize that the prime duty, the inescapable duty, of
the good citizen of the right type is to leave his or her blood behind him in
the world." In the same year, Winston Churchill lobbied for compulsory
sterilization of the mentally handicapped: "I feel that the source from
which the stream of madness is fed should be cut off and sealed up before
another year has passed." The tragedy of that story lies not in the
science behind eugenics, but in the politics: It is the coercion that was
wrong. An individual who volunteers for sterilization is doing no harm,
whatever his or her motives; one who orders another to be sterilized against
his or her will is doing wrong. It is that simple. The eugenic movement began with the best of
intentions. Many of its most strident advocates were socialists, who saw
eugenics as enlightened state planning of reproduction. But what it actually
achieved, when translated into policies, was a human-rights catastrophe: the
rejection of many immigrants, the sterilization of many people whose only
crime was to have below-average intelligence, and eventually, in But now, a century later, we are once again
practicing a sort of eugenics: We abort fetuses that would be born with Down
syndrome or inherited disorders. In Are we simply repeating the mistakes of the
past? No. The principal difference is that whereas eugenics, as conceived in
the early part of the 20th century, was a public project, modern genetic
screening is a private matter. Only Another difference is precision: The selective
breeding of the past worked slowly and unpredictably-but today, we can insert
a gene into an organism and be all but certain what the effect will be: For
example, inserting the genetic phrase "Make insulin!" into a
bacterium transforms the life of a diabetic. Genetic engineering of plants and animals is
now routine. Only the genetic engineering of human beings is forbidden. It would work: Of this, there is no doubt.
Take a simple example: the gene on chromosome 4 that is associated with
Huntington's disease, a terrible mental affliction of middle age. You could
go into the gene in a fertilized egg, find the crucial phrase
"CAG"-which, in affected people, is repeated more than 39 times in
the middle of the gene-and remove about half of the repeats. It would not be
easy, but it could probably be done. The result would be a healthy person
with no risk of This procedure might become a neater and less
intrusive option than the three now available: 1) screening followed by
abortion-the course of action followed by many couples who find themselves
carrying a child with a devastating disease; 2) pre-implantation genetic
diagnosis, which is in vitro fertilization followed by implantation of a
healthy embryo and rejection of one that carries the faulty gene; and 3) gene
therapy, the immensely difficult and dangerous procedure of trying to infect
sufficient cells in your body with a gene-carrying virus to correct the
faulty gene. It is not just medical genetic engineering
that is feasible; cosmetic genetic engineering could also begin tomorrow,
though it would still be very primitive. There is a gene on chromosome 17
called the ACE gene, which comes in two equally common varieties, long and
short. On average, people who inherit two long ACE genes (one from each
parent) are better athletes than people who inherit two short versions. For
instance, of 123 British-army recruits, the long-gened ones improved their
weight-lifting ability much faster during training than the short-gened ones. It would be comparatively trivial to engineer
a human embryo so that it had two long ACE genes. The result would be a child
slightly more likely to win long-distance running races. There would be no
risk of unpredictable consequences, because about one in four of us have two
long ACE genes already; it is not unnatural. It would not be cruel to the
child, and it would have no consequences for society. But should it be
allowed? Everybody-from scientists to
theologians-seems to agree that human genetic engineering is wrong. Their
reasons are a mixture of respect for the sanctity of life and fear of the
unpredictable. But if they were ever to relent and allow it, it would be for
medical, not cosmetic purposes. To correct a cruel inherited disease-like No
Nightmare Scenarios Yet even at this "easy" end of the
spectrum, there are uncomfortable questions. Cures might seem
uncontroversial, but they are not. My colleague, the sociologist Tom
Shakespeare, is achondroplasic, but he regards his inherited short stature as
a disability only to the extent that society imposes that prejudice on him.
With a first-class degree from He sees genetic engineering as undermining
society's respect for people like him, because it sends the message that
disability could be-and therefore perhaps should be-eliminated. In a
genetically engineered society, the parents of a genetically disabled child
would feel social opprobrium for not having "done something about it." I see his point, but I do not fully agree
with it, for the following reason: I see nothing in history to suggest that
the ability to cure a condition lessens compassion or respect towards its
sufferers. Indeed, society's respect for people with "preventable"
disabilities has surely never been greater than now:People with Down
syndrome, for example, were once abandoned or shunned; they are now treated
with much more respect. I suspect it will prove impossible in
practice to draw a line between cure and enhancement, between medical and
cosmetic genetic engineering. One person's cure is another person's
enhancement. Is an inherited weight problem a disease? Would it be a cosmetic
enhancement to "cure" dyslexia? Assume that one day, genetic alleles that
predict homosexuality are discovered-a wild assumption, but not
inconceivable. To a heterosexual couple, disabling the "gay genes"
in their potentially homosexual child might seem like a "cure" that
prevents an "abnormal" life. But if so, then for a homosexual
couple trying to procreate through a surrogate mother, disabling the
"straight genes" in their child might also seem to be a
"cure." James Watson famously remarked a few years
ago that if a mother, following a prenatal diagnosis, wanted to avoid having
a gay child, that was up to her. After all, more than 95 percent of abortions
are carried out for the convenience of the mother and are of
"normal" fetuses. It was hard for Watson to see who else should be
allowed to make the decision on her behalf: "These things should be kept
away from people who think they know best . . . I am trying to see genetic
decisions put in the hands of users, which governments aren't." This led
to a predictably hysterical headline in a British newspaper: "Abort gay
babies, says Nobel prize winner." Note the misleading use of the
imperative tense: Watson was arguing against coercion, not for it. Another objection to genetic engineering is
that it would drive out diversity, as people converge on the
"ideal." Again, I think this argument is mistaken. Far from
threatening diversity, genetic engineering may actually increase it.
Supposing cosmetic genetic engineering became accepted, musical people might
seek out musical genes for their children; athletes might seek athletic
genes; etc. It is very unlikely that everybody would choose the same
priority. If diversity is not threatened by genetic
engineering, then another argument-that in a genetically engineered world,
there would be an underclass of those who could not afford the procedure-also
evaporates. In this scare scenario, the rich might buy themselves an even
better start in life with the best genes. But this argument applies only if
genetic engineering becomes commonplace, and it is at least partly undermined
if everybody is using different criteria of perfection. After all, just by
choosing our marriage partners we have been practicing private eugenics ever
since we became human: Dark good looks, a slender figure, a winning
personality, or a quick mind-in considering these attributes in potential
mates, we are, at least partly, selecting genes. Yet diversity is not
threatened, because each of us has different criteria. When artificial insemination was first
thought of, in the 1930s, a prominent Nobel-prize-winning American
geneticist, H. J. Muller, wrote a book speculating about the uses to which
such a technique would be put. "How many women," he wrote, "in
an enlightened community devoid of superstitious taboos and of sex slavery,
would be eager and proud to bear and rear a child of Lenin or of Well, no, it is not obvious. Attempts to make
test-tube babies "eugenic" by establishing banks of sperm from
clever men, or of eggs from beautiful women, have largely failed. People use
in vitro fertilization (IVF) to have their own children, not to have other
people's-let alone Lenin's. IVF is actually an instructive precedent for the
current debate: When it was invented in the 1970s, society as a whole largely
disapproved, finding the procedure unnatural and abhorrent. It gained
acceptance because mild disapproval by the many was matched by fierce demand
from the few; it took off because infertile individuals demanded it, not
because society as a whole decided they could have it. It was an individual
decision, not a collective one. Just as infertile people demanded access to
IVF, even before it had been fully tested for safety, it is possible that
people who carry fatal genes will demand access to genetic engineering; but
this is not very likely. Unlike infertile people, they already have an
alternative: pre-implantation genetic diagnosis, which can spot and discard
affected embryos in favor of unaffected ones. And if these people, for whom a
"bad" gene is the difference between misery and happiness, do not
need genetic engineering, why would anybody else need it? It is true that a
few people might wish for a blue-eyed boy, but would they really be prepared
to abandon the easy business of natural conception for a painful and
exhausting test-tube conception instead? My point is that cosmetic genetic engineering
would attract a very small-and probably half-hearted-clientele, even if it
were made legal and safe. I simply cannot think of a single feature of my own
children that I would have liked to fix in advance. People do not want
particular types of children; they just want their own children, and they
want them to be a bit like themselves. When faced with a mediocre hand at poker, you
change some cards and start again. But when faced with perhaps 40,000 human
genes, any of which you could change for what may or may not be a slightly
better version, which would you change? Looks, intelligence, talents, skin
color? It doesn't sound so tempting, does it? The history of eugenics teaches that nobody
should be forced to engineer her children's genes-but, by implication,
neither should anyone be forced not to. To regulate such decisions with
heavy-handed state intervention would be to fall into the very trap that
caught the do-gooder eugenicists of 1910. I am not against all regulation: At
the very least, governments can step in to ensure standards among
practitioners (something they are quite good at). But they would be unwise to
try to specify in detail what people can and cannot decide to do for
themselves. As Thomas Jefferson said: "I know no safe depository of the
ultimate powers of the society but the people themselves; and if we think
them not enlightened enough to exercise their control with a wholesome
discretion, the remedy is not to take it from them, but to inform their
discretion." |