With this April issue of the Journal of Lutheran
Ethics, we bring the third installment in our series of notes
on books addressing genetic engineering. For interested readers,
the previous two columns appeared in the September and December,
2003 issues.
Works reviewed in this month's column:
Gordon Graham, Genes
Editors of Scientific American, Understanding Nanotechnology
Evelyn Fox Keller, The Century of the Gene
Susan Brooks Thistlethwaite, editor, Adam, Eve, and the Genome
GENES: A Philosophical Inquiry
by Gordon Graham (New York: Routledge, 2002), 196pp.
[1] Gordon Graham, Regius Professor of Moral Philosophy at the
University of Aberdeen, has written a wide-ranging book that
addresses aspects of science and religion, the social role of
technology, and the ethics of genetic engineering. He is not a
Christian but wants to take seriously those concerns that often
arise from a religious consciousness. A particular concern that
expresses itself throughout his discussion is the tendency of
science and technology to overreach itself. He sees this most
notably today in genetics, where broad claims are being made to
explain everything from eye color to disease to social behavior (as
witness the emergence of sociobiology and evolutionary psychology).
Prominent representatives of this development whom he cites are
E.O. Wilson (Sociobiology), Stephen Pinker (How the
Mind Works), and above all Richard Dawkins (The Selfish
Gene, The Blind Watchmaker, River Out of
Eden).
[2] Several other works we've discussed in this column have made
this same observation about the claims of molecular biologists; it
has become routine to read assertions about profound break-throughs
in genetics, featuring new and startling revelations about human
nature. But the intriguing thing about this development is that it
is often accompanied by the claim that this knowledge puts us on
the edge of fashioning or engineering a new humanity - as witness
our discussion of Gregory Stock in the December column. It is this
larger impact of technology that gains Graham's attention, where
the prospect of a genetic nightmare (conveyed early on in the
literary figure of Frankenstein) has to be taken seriously.
[3] Graham devotes a lengthy chapter to biological evolution,
noting the fact that it is a concept that has itself evolved in
recent years. While recent theorists have made universal claims for
evolution's explanatory powers, Graham notes that it has not
offered a viable explanation concerning the origins of life, for
example. Biochemistry as a post-Darwin development may also pose
irreducible complexities that are not susceptible to the gradualist
explanations of evolution. (65) Another problem Graham sees is
psychology, where evolution seeks to explain the existence and
function of the mind wholly in natural terms (biological and
physical). These "naturalistic explanations of mental phenomena are
easily sketched but hard to detail convincingly." (78) Thus Graham
remains skeptical of what he regards as exaggerated claims by
today's more ardent advocates of evolutionary explanation.
[4] But the major concerns raised by contemporary genetics lie not
so much in the realm of explanation as in technology. Graham
devotes a chapter to the consideration of genetic technology in the
progression "from genetic screening through genetic modification to
genetic design," a progression that many think to be inevitable. He
raises a question not often considered - whether it makes any sense
to talk about what may become technologically possible without
considering the social context that determines its practical
feasibility. In isolation a genetic intervention may look
desirable, but can it be incorporated into a health program?
Problems of resource allocation as well as long-term outcomes are
but two factors that will have a decisive impact on a procedure's
viability.
[5] In regard to genetic information, Graham makes a good case for
genetic ignorance. When there's nothing that can be done about it,
there's no good reason why people should want to know about their
genetic defects. "There is nothing irrational in preferring lower
levels of anxiety to higher levels of knowledge." (104) He takes a
different approach than commonly taken in regard to insurance
problems raised by people with genetic diseases, arguing that
insurers may face greater expenses but they also know that such
people are likely to die sooner. It's all based on probabilities
rather than certainties, of course, but Graham does not think that
the genetically compromised will necessarily be burdened by
excessive premiums; it may be a kind of wash compared with those
who are relatively healthy but live long lives, with the attendant
expenses associated with old age. He may have a point, but the
record as of now seems to give little support to this
argument.
[6] Graham quite aptly refers to "ethnic cleansing" in
characterizing attempts at "sexual cleansing," where a society
might adopt a policy of extracting a person's homosexual gene and
replacing it with a heterosexual one. He refers to the research of
Dean Hamer (Science, vol. 261 [1993], 231-237) in
identifying a genetic link to chromosome region Xq28, but
acknowledges that this is far from identifying a homosexual gene.
In any event, even if it were such a proof, it would be fruitless
to establish a policy of this kind because the gene would show
itself only in the homozygote and not in the heterozygote, which
would still be carrying the gene in a recessive form. Graham uses
this example in challenging the notion that we can fashion a world
according to our preferences through genetic manipulation. It's a
matter of "how far we have really understood the nature of the
world we propose to re-fashion." (113)
[7] In turning to genetic modification, Graham provides some
historical perspective by noting that genetic engineering as such
is not something new; efforts at selective breeding go back for
centuries and genetically modified organisms (GMOs) "have been with
us a very long time." It's also the case that the goals of the past
continue to be the goals of the present - making things more
satisfying, convenient, and efficient for humans. Does the
emergence of genetics as a scientific discipline and our capacity
today to engineer outcomes with greater speed and precision make
any ethical difference? Graham is not impressed with arguments that
we are "tinkering" with nature, or that the possibility of a
genetic catastrophe requires that we refrain from pursuing germline
therapy. At this point he adopts a "costs and benefits" approach
that would examine each proposed intervention on its own merits
rather than establishing a general policy.
[8] Whether they are made on psychological or logical grounds,
Graham is also dubious about "slippery slope" arguments that
caution against human embryo research because it will lead
inevitably to further experimenting on humans or efforts to produce
"designer babies." Nor does he think that "sanctity of life"
arguments are appropriate in regard to embryo research, for "there
is very good reason to hold that human embryos are not persons in
any sense whatsoever." (138) He makes a decisive distinction
between the embryo and the fetus, noting that for the first 14 days
the former is not a distinguishable individual but "a collection of
cells" that could become one, two, or three people (the same
argument made by a number of Roman Catholic scholars in challenging
their Church's stance on abortion).
[9] At the same time, Graham acknowledges that specifically
religious concerns, often expressed in cautions about "playing God"
or ignoring the "sanctity of life," get some resonance even among
secularized people in the Western world. He suggests that a concept
like "genetic trespassing" might be a secularized version of these
ideas, but he remains distrustful of what it implies, namely, a
discernible dividing line between what is "natural" and what is
not. He is not optimistic about establishing a normative concept of
human nature such as conservatives like Leon Kass are intent on
doing. The alternative for Graham remains a rejection of any
principle that rules out a priori the necessary process of
experimentation on a case-by-case basis, with each case being
assessed as to its potential risk on a cost-benefits scale.
[10] Lest readers now throw up their hands because of Graham's
apparent unwillingness to establish some meaningful boundaries for
genetic engineering, there is more that he has to say. He turns to
"human rights" as a concept that could be construed as a secular
version of the sanctity of life. One basis for our rights is a
belief in human equality, but without God providing the basis for
that equality in a secular world, Graham proposes an alternative in
terms of what we all have in common: "…no one is in a
position to decide that the life of another is not worth living."
(151) While we would all undoubtedly regard as "better" the lives
of healthy, intelligent, attractive and talented people over those
who are sickly, intellectually weak, deformed and talentless, the
point is that "they are not morally better." He then applies this
principle to cloning and designer babies, concluding after a
lengthy argument that children are a "basic human good," a gift
that we can neither demand nor expect a right to. We may be
sovereign over plants and animals, but that does not allow "one set
of human beings to…determine the why and wherefore of the
existence of others." (170)
[11] Graham's principle has obvious implications for abortion as
well, a point he acknowledges. He does not use the principle to
make a blanket rejection of abortion without regard to the stage of
pregnancy or the reason for it, but allows it to function as a
cautionary principle that would compel moral responsibility in
making a decision to abort (recognizing, for example, the moral
difference between aborting where a severe genetic disease is
involved in contrast to where the woman simply decides she doesn't
want a child). Applying this same principle to designer babies, it
would exclude the attempt to fashion "better" human beings because
it would be a rejection of the first-person right of judgment of
the "non-designed" person. For Graham this would amount to "an
indefensible hubris." Thus he concludes that the religious concern
about society "playing God" has validity in regard to any attempt
at genetic improvement of our progeny.
[12] The boundary that Graham fashions will not satisfy those
opponents of abortion who take an absolutist stand without
reference to the empirical situation, nor will it satisfy those who
seek a moral and theological rationale for the exclusion of every
kind of genetic intervention. What he is proposing is a principle
that excludes efforts to "improve" on human beings without at the
same time ruling out therapeutic interventions. He can be taken to
task for not addressing the difficulties in distinguishing between
therapy and enhancement, but I would commend him for his conclusion
that a distinction must be made. He eschews theological arguments
in taking this stance, but he provides a good example of a secular
philosopher who believes that certain concerns raised by the
religious mind concerning genetic enhancement are important. His
response is to find a moral rationale that will address those
concerns in speaking to a secularized culture.
UNDERSTANDING NANOTECHNOLOGY
From the Editors of Scientific American
(New York: Warner Books, Inc., 2002), 149pp.
[13] The emergence of nanoscience during the past several decades
has been one of the most significant developments in the scientific
world. The work being done in this field is laying the foundation
for nanotechnology, which remains largely a vision at this point.
In order to familiarize people with the nature of the "nanoworld"
and what it may promise in the decades ahead, the editors of
Scientific American published a series of
articles on the topic in 2000-2001 and then collected them for
publication in this little book. Written by recognized scientists
in the field, this collection constitutes an excellent introduction
to the subject for the educated layperson.
[14] With nanoscience we are dealing with the essence of small. A
nanometer is a billionth of a meter, one thousandth the length of a
typical bacterium, one millionth the size of a pinhead. This world
is a kind of borderland between the realm of individual atoms and
molecules (where quantum mechanics rules) and the macroworld that
we bump up against in daily living. It concerns the properties and
behaviors of aggregates of atoms and molecules - the realm of the
mesoscale - where properties of matter are governed by a complex
combination of classical physics and quantum mechanics. Our access
to this world is now possible through the invention of some
remarkable instruments - like the scanning tunneling microscope and
atomic force microscope, among others - that are capable of
creating pictures of individual atoms or moving them from place to
place. With nanotechnology, the intent is to fashion nanostructures
that may contain superior electrical, chemical, mechanical or
optical properties, with potentially widespread commercial
uses.
[15] A particularly significant development occurred in the early
nineties when a Japanese scientist first noticed peculiar
nanoscopic threads lying in a smear of soot. Made of pure carbon,
these macromolecules became known as nanotubes and have been the
object of intense scientific study ever since. They possess
remarkable qualities, such as exceptional resilience, tensile
strength and thermal stability, because carbon atoms bond together
with amazing strength. This has given rise to some fantastic
predictions of microscopic robots, cars that bounce rather than
crash in a wreck, and buildings that sway rather than snap in an
earth-quake. In the electronics industry, carbon nanotubes should
play the same role as silicon does in electric circuits, but at a
molecular scale where silicon and other standard semiconductors
cease to work. With the process of miniaturization in computer
technology - now at the micro-level - soon reaching its limits, the
prospect of wires and functional devices tens of nanometers or
smaller in size, made from nanotubes and incorporated into
electronic circuits (and working far faster and on much less
power), is an exciting prospect.
[16] There has been considerable hype during the last twenty years
or so concerning the revolutionary prospects of nanotechnology. The
futurist, K. Eric Drexler (Engines of
Creation,1986), has contributed significantly to the
excitement with his depiction of self-replicating nanomachines
capable of producing virtually any material good, as well as
enabling the reversal of global warming, curing disease, and
radically extending the human life span. While most scientists
would dismiss these speculations as irresponsible, they would
likely not dispute that the nano concept could lay the foundation
for a new industrial revolution. One of the areas in which this
technology holds considerable promise is biomedicine, which makes
it pertinent to the interests of this column.
[17] Nanometer-scale objects made of inorganic materials, such as
magnetic crystals, may be quite useful in biomedical research,
including the diagnosis of disease and even therapy. Nanoscale
particles can be put to work as tags, or labels, increasing the
effectiveness of biological tests; a nanotube-tipped atomic force
microscope can trace a strand of DNA and identify chemical markers
that reveal which of several possible variants of a gene is present
in the strand. Nanoscale particles could be used to deliver drugs
just where they are needed, including places that standard drugs do
not reach easily, and also avoiding the harmful side effects often
created by potent medicines. Problems could be detected earlier, at
more treatable stages; for example, revealing tumors just a few
cells in size. Artificial nanoscale building blocks may eventually
be used to help repair skin, cartilage and bone tissues, and even
help patients to regenerate organs. Other goals include new aids
for vision and hearing, rapid tests for detecting disease
susceptibility, and responses to drugs.
[18] The reader may well feel bewildered in trying to visualize the
kind of "machinery" that could be utilized at such an infinitesimal
level as the nanoworld. It involves a paradigm shift from the
current electronic world of silicon chips and circuit boards to the
realm of chemistry. The methods used to produce molecular devices
are the same as those of the pharmaceutical industry, where
chemists start with a compound and then gradually transform it by
adding prescribed reagents whose molecules are known to bond to
others at specific sites. Through chemical reactions, such as
oxidation reduction, molecules can be made to conduct electricity
and to act as transistors that can switch an electric current on or
off. But we are still far from the kind of electronic control we
desire because our capacity for assembly and organization at the
molecular level remains quite primitive; nanostructures at this
point are much less reliable than their microelectronic
counterparts.
[19] In the books we have been reviewing over the past several
months, some in particular have projected future scenarios in
biomedical practice that have stretched our imagination and
challenged our sense of what is ethically acceptable. It is clear
that much of the impetus for these scenarios - including possible
enhancements of human attributes and pushing back the boundaries of
our mortality - can be ascribed to the prospects raised by
nanotechnology. We don't know with many of these projections
whether they belong to science fiction or to the world of future
generations. What is clear is that scientists and engineers are
moving full steam ahead to exploit the possibilities of the
nanoworld, and that their efforts will compel society to address
increasingly radical questions about human identity and what will
ultimately serve the common good. It is incumbent upon the church
to be thinking about these prospects and to engage in the kind of
free and open dialogue that will help to forge a consensus on what
we want to encourage and what we feel compelled to discourage in
this realm of biotechnology.
THE CENTURY OF THE GENE
by Evelyn Fox Keller
(Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2000), 186pp.
[20] This book by Evelyn Fox Keller, Professor of History and
Philosophy of Science at MIT, brings together an unusually rich
combination of historical background and current research in
molecular genetics. The author is also blessed with the ability to
write about a dense subject with remarkable clarity. While the
subject is the development of the scientific understanding of the
gene during the last century, Fox's aim is to spell out the
revolutionary understanding of the gene that has emerged in recent
decades. This understanding is challenging the traditional
understanding of the gene, both in scientific circles and in the
popular mind.
[21] Keller maintains that the new science of genomics, given a
tremendous boost by the Human Genome Project, has actually
"undermined" the basic concept of genetics, the concept of the
gene. One consequence of this transformation is something she wants
to celebrate: Contrary to all expectations, the common assumption
that the more we learn about genetics the more we will be compelled
to recognize that we are "determined" by our genes is now being
challenged. Reductionist theories no longer have the scientific
support that many have assumed, with increasing recognition of the
gap between genetic "information" and the biological meaning we
have inferred from it. With the primacy of the gene receding in the
twenty-first century, Keller acknowledges that the gene's role in
the twentieth century as an explanatory framework has been most
important; our task now is to develop a "new lexicon" that will
serve the same purpose in coming years.
[22] What are these developments that are revolutionizing the
discipline of genetics? Keller charts out the progress from the
1940s in determining what it is that genes do, a process that
seemed to get a definitive answer in the 1950s and 1960s. As
Francis Crick put it in 1957, "DNA makes RNA, RNA makes protein,
and proteins make us." DNA was seen as the book of life. But there
were some "minor wrinkles" in this thesis from the outset, and
during the last couple of decades these wrinkles have grown into
"major chasms." One important development was the recognition that
there seems to be more than one kind of gene - not just a
"structural" gene that produces protein but a "regulator" gene as
well. Genes do not simply act, but are activated, and it is here
that regulator genes come into play. In recent years these
regulatory genes have proliferated in number and kind as molecular
biologists have discerned a variety of functions taking place,
quite apart from the actual "making" of anything. (55ff.) In fact,
the percentage of structural genes in the human genome seems to be
very small, raising the question of identity: What counts as a
gene?
[23] Another problem is split genes which code for proteins but
turn out to be fragmented, with long non-coding regions (often
called "junk DNA") that at first - mistakenly - were assumed to
have no function at all. For genes that are fragmented in this way,
there is no strict one-to-one correspondence between the sequence
of a gene and the protein it gives rise to. Indeed, the number of
different proteins at least hypothetically associated with a
particular gene can now reach into the hundreds. What determines
the proteins a gene makes, and under what circumstances? Apparently
it isn't the gene that "decides," but the regulatory dynamics of
the cell itself. And the picture gets still more complicated when
we turn to the function of proteins. It was thought that the
function of a gene had been identified when the amino-acid sequence
of its protein was determined, but a protein can function in many
different ways, depending on its context. Cells have in fact
developed sophisticated means for switching between the functions
of these proteins.
[24] What all this means is that much of what geneticists have
learned in recent years falls outside the original picture. It has
become exceptionally difficult to define the gene as a structural
unit. As one scientist working in molecular genetics puts it, the
gene may be "a concept past its time," where its use "might in fact
be a hindrance to our understanding." (68) There is considerable
irony in this situation because the gene has never been more
prominent in both the scientific and public press than it is today.
The excitement over locating the genes responsible for a variety of
genetic diseases has been steadily growing, just at the time when
the apparent plasticity of the gene threatens its very meaning. One
painful consequence of this fact is that we are no longer as sure
as we once were that our ability to diagnose genetic diseases will
soon pave the way to significant medical benefits. On the contrary,
we still have much to learn about the processes that link the
defective gene to the onset of disease. We need a better
understanding of what it is that genes do, which has led to the
focus today on functional genetics in contrast to structural
genetics.
[25] In pursuing the function of genes, the term genetic
program has come into vogue. It reflects the impact of
computer science, where the metaphor of a program has also been
helpful. But there remains an ambiguity on the precise role of the
gene as to whether it is the subject or the object of the program,
whether it is the source of the program or that upon which the
program acts. Keller now enlarges her focus from gene to the
organism, noting what we have learned from the
reprogramming efforts involved in cloning by nuclear
transfer (resulting in the sheep "Dolly"). There still remain basic
questions about whether there is a centralized program emanating
from the brain that governs the development of organisms, as some
believe, or whether it is not more accurate to locate developmental
dynamics more "locally" in the ways in which genes interconnect
with each other; it appears that complex regulatory mechanisms are
at work in a dynamic process that determines when and where a
particular gene will be expressed. The wonder, expressed several
times by the author, is that the development of an organism is as
steady and predictable as it is, given the dynamic character of its
component parts. For persons of faith, it becomes yet one more
dimension in appreciating the Psalmist's words, "I praise you, for
I am fearfully and wonderfully made." (Ps. 139:14a)
[26] What distinguishes the organism appears to be its
self-organizing character, a point first made in modern times by
the eighteenth century philosopher, Immanuel Kant. Capacities for
self-regulation and even self-formation characterize the organism:
"An organism is a material entity that is transformed into an
autonomous and self-generating 'self' by virtue of its peculiar and
particular organization." (108) This language is remarkable in its
reference to self-directed, purposive action in describing a
material entity of flesh and blood, presumably functioning
according to physicochemical reactions. It reflects what might well
be called the "mystery" of the human organism, whose nature still
eludes the scientific categories used to understand it. A new and
significant turn has occurred since World War II with the
development of the electronic computer and the study of control and
communication in machines and living beings - what Norbert Wiener
termed cybernetics. The attempt to build machines that
resemble living organisms has led to a fruitful interaction between
the world of computer engineering and biology, with metaphors from
each field influencing the other. A new breed of biologists has
emerged (particularly instrumental in facilitating the Human Genome
Project) in which both biological and computational skills are
united in the field of bioinformatics, and spawning new
perspectives in molecular biology.
[27] In her concluding chapter, Keller acknowledges that the gene
will continue to be an indispensable part of genetic discourse, in
spite of the outmoded understandings that people bring to it. While
noting the considerable irony in this situation, given the public
obsession with the gene in the wake of the Human Genome Project,
Keller recognizes that the ambiguity of the gene need not impair
its usefulness in public discourse. It will continue to function as
a kind of shorthand - an umbrella term - covering the more precise,
experimental contexts in which biologists work. Nevertheless,
Keller is convinced that we must forge new ways of thinking about
biological organization that are politically and scientifically
more realistic. The way in which genetics has captured the popular
mind requires this change if we are to avoid the false hopes and
anxieties that present language too often inspires.
ADAM, EVE, AND THE GENOME: The Human Genome Project and
Theology
Edited by Susan Brooks Thistlethwaite (Minneapolis: Fortress Press,
2003), 200pp.
[28] The purpose of this volume is "to provide some theological
reflection on the human being by means of a dialogue with the newer
advances in human genetics, the Human Genome Project." The chapters
are edited versions of class presentations made in a team-taught
course offered to students at Chicago Theological Seminary and the
Division of Biological Sciences at the University of Chicago. The
instructors are faculty at CTS, with the lone exception being
Lainie Friedman Ross, a pediatrician at the U. of Chicago, who
provides the scientific material with two chapters on Mendelian and
post-Mendelian genetics.
[29] Editor Thistlethwaite, a systematic theologian and President
of CTS, provides the major effort (through the introduction and two
concluding chapters) in bringing theology into conversation with
the scientific material. In doing so, she proposes that liberation
and specifically feminist theology can provide a more "innovative
theological dialogue partner" with genetic science. Like process
theology, feminist theology opposes a "static" view of the human as
well as emphasizing the continuity of humanity with creation. She
cites the "patriarchal," Enlightenment heritage as responsible for
two understandings that prevent a fruitful connection of theology
with nature: the soul/body dichotomy and the exalting of
rationality as the distinctive mark of humanity.
[30] Another systematician at CTS, Theodore Jennings, contributes a
helpful chapter by proposing several analogies as a way of bridging
the gap between theology and genetics. Utilizing a text by the
Cappadocian Father, Gregory of Nyssa, he discusses solidarity,
speciation, and individuation as three concepts that are both
significant for theological anthropology and helpful in forging the
unity and cohesiveness between humanity and the rest of creation.
Both Jennings and Thistlethwaite emphasize the need to understand
human distinctiveness within the continuity between humanity and
the biosphere, not in contrast to it along the lines of much
theology in the past. Both Tillich and Reinhold Niebuhr are cited
as recent examples of a gnostic strain that runs through much of
Christian theology. Jennings also discusses the significance of the
resurrection of the body in contrast to the immortality of the soul
as affirming the importance of the mortal body to Christian
eschatology. Just what all this means is not pursued by Jennings;
the direction of his thought might lead one to conclude that
resurrection must be the resuscitation of a corpse, but I suspect
he doesn't want to say that. Resurrection recognizes our identity
as linked with our individuality and our individuality with our
bodies, but that truth is also affirmed in the mystery that Saint
Paul expresses with the notion of a "spiritual body." In whatever
context we discuss this holistic character of theological
anthropology, it gives rise to tensions that cannot be neatly
resolved.
[31] The above point is illustrated, I believe, in the
alternatives posed by sociobiologists and evolutionary
psychologists on the one hand, who would reduce the human to the
workings of genetic material, and the traditional Christian
anthropology on the other hand that would secure the human by
defining it as soul or spirit that is separated from the body. Each
view shares the same fallacy in denying the psychosomatic unity of
the human, but each can at least take some satisfaction in its
logical consistency. One theme running through this book is the
importance of affirming the continuity of the human with creation,
thus constructing a point of fruitful connection between them and
avoiding the fallacy in each of the above views. However, I would
have appreciated some more reflection on spelling out the meaning
of human distinctiveness within this context of continuity and
unity. An important point is made, but some of its implications are
left hanging.
[32] Other contributors include Associate Professor of Theology,
Ethics and Culture, Laurel C. Schneider, who provides an
interesting overview of the history of science in which she
identifies the critical issue between science and theology today as
the claim that DNA is "a reductive blueprint for the whole of human
life…and the key to human destiny…"; an Old Testament
theologian, Ken Stone, who raises the subject of etiology as it
relates to Old Testament stories as well as to genetic research;
and Lee H. Butler, Jr., an African American pastoral theologian who
focuses on the misuse of genetic research in documenting supposed
theories of racial inferiority. He concludes with the arresting
assertion, "…the Genome Project may have the unconscious
effect of fueling the genocidal impulse that runs so deep within
America."
[33] Dominant themes in this work echo points made by a number of
authors whom we have considered in this series of review articles.
Thistlethwaite observes that the new biology is tempted "to
attribute far too much causality to genes," a major point in Ruth
Hubbard and Elijah Wald's Exploding the Gene
Myth, to which she refers (see my column in
the September, 2003 issue of JLE). She identifies
Hubbard's emphasis on the "embedded" character of genes with her
own liberationist/feminist perspective, which looks for a broader
understanding of the chemistry of gene expression. Causes of
cancer, for example, must include consideration of the stress and
strain of everyday living - if our society is sick, then so are we.
The nature/nurture divide is in need of being collapsed. This
contextual, holistic approach and the rejection of any kind of
dualism, both metaphysical and societal, provide the unifying
themes that run throughout this work.
© April 2004
Journal of Lutheran Ethics
Volume 4, Issue 4