ABSTRACT
A scientific age demands a scientific methodology for bioethics. Moreover, an age that might be termed ‘moderately post-scientific’ may demand an equally moderate scientific methodology. A moderately post-scientific age is one that still relies on science yet is more conscious of its limitations and sceptical about its potential to adequately address all of life’s demands and provide all of its answers. Certainly, much of the history of ethics is characterized by an antiscientific mysticism, to be found in both Hellenistic philosophy and Christian theology. Modernday successors to this stream of thought battle for credibility in an age of datagathering and perceptual analysis. On the other hand, some of the more radical attempts to inculcate scientific methods into bioethics have been found increasingly to be unsatisfactory because they appear directionless and fail to respect timehonoured beliefs about moral absolutes. Moreover, they fail to speak to a generation that is characterized by renewed vigour about the mystical dimensions of life and is fascinated anew by non-scientific ways of knowing. One line of thought which adheres both to the notion of prescribed moral principles, yet encourages a comprehensively scientific approach to the business of moral decisionmaking, is referred to as ‘proportionism’. The term is derived from the Aristotelian sense of proportion in the weighing up of extremes, a thought tailored by Aquinas to satisfy a moment in medieval Christian theology. More recently, the thought has been revived in modern Roman Catholic theology by the American school of 'proportionate good'. As suggested, a significant contribution which this line of thought can make to the modern bioethical debate is seen in its commitment to preserving the essence of the deontological position, namely, the positing of universal determinants of morality, while at the same time adhering to the essence of teleological thought, namely, attention to moral ends and consequences. It is proposed that proportionism might be the moderate scientific methodology which modern bioethics requires for completeness.
THE PERTINENCE TO OUR WORLD OF ANCIENT AND MEDIEVAL ETHICS
It is at least a reasonable supposition
that the famous oath attributed to the legendary Hippocrates was actually
of Pythagorean design (cf. Fletcher, 1986). This immediately
poses questions about the comprehensiveness of this apparently
foundational ethical yardstick. If this thesis is accepted, it
places the oath squarely on one side of an evergreen debate about
rights and wrongs and parameters for moral action. Pythagoras,
after all, was a mystic and decidedly antiscientific, in the
sense that the world of sensory things was spurned as 'false
and illusive'. He describes us as 'strangers in this world' and
'chattels of God who is our herdsman', without whose command
we have no rights (cf. Russell, 1974:51f.). Pythagoras,
predictably therefore, recommends an order of subservience to
the designs of the deity. If it is true that the Hippocratic
oath is a piece of Pythagorean craft, then there may be underlying
assumptions and biases to which the modern bioethicist would
not wish to subscribe.
Even within the world of Hellenistic
philosophy, Pythagoras’s
views stand in stark opposition to other points of view. Protagoras
(cf. Plato, 1989) had doubts about the very existence of the
deities, much less the need for devotion to their designs. "Man
is the measure of all things," he said, which was not so
much an atheistic claim as an exhortation to people to take control
of their own lives, to reflect on pertinent matters in their
own way and on their own terms. In this sense, Protagoras
was utterly scientific and antimystical: he believed there was
no greater yardstick for truth than the individual's sense perception
(cf. MacIntyre, 1974). In an era that strives to re-discover
moral order, including a sense of corporate good, such rampant
individualism may be equally inappropriate as the basis for modern
bioethics.
Even if one has doubts about the
real influence of the Hippocratic Oath on Western ethical thinking,
one could have no doubts about the influence of Christian ethics.
Here, we find the same extremities of thought as between Pythagoras
and Protagoras and, again,
it is the mystical, less scientific, view that has often held
sway. Augustine of Hippo, saint of the Church, devised a Christian
theological scheme that contained all that Pythagoras would have
held dear. In contrast to Protagoras's trust in sense perception,
Augustine urges us to "believe in order to understand"
(cf. Dowley,1985:199f.). This suppression of belief in the powers
of the intellect suited the mind of the Church at the time. Not
so long before, at the Council of Nicaea (325 A.D.), it had condemned
Arianism, a form of gnosticism that exuded trust in the power
of the mind to gain spiritual insight. The great threat of Arianism
to the Church was in its implicit emphasis on human capacity,
rather than the institution of the Church, as a vehicle for truth.
Augustine (1972),
on the other hand, saw the Church as central to any quest for
enlightenment. The Church, the 'City Of God', was God's great
gift to the world; like a 'pilgrim in a foreign land', it pressed
forward amid persecution and misunderstanding from the utterly
corrupt earthly city (cf. Lawler, 1976.). It was people's only
hope: they needed to cling to it and obey its statutes. People
who tried to work out salvation for themselves were doomed, for,
beyond the Church, there was no salvation. Between an Hippocratic
Oath tailored by the Pythagorean community and an Augustinian
Christian theology, the absolutist, antiscientific direction
of the Western ethical tradition may well have been determined.
Again, there seems little in either this or its Gnostic alternative
on which the modern bioethicist might build a scheme for addressing
contemporary issues.
ETHICS IN THE MODERN ERA
In a scientific age, the absolutist form of ethics has battled to survive. Known by such variant names as 'universalism', 'prescriptivism', or 'objectivism', these deontological views have in common a quest for a priori, fixed and binding norms for human action which are both beyond contestation and valid for all occasions. They presuppose an epistemology that characterizes knowledge as contained within a corpus which is external to, and beyond the competence of, the unaided mind. Hence, there is a need for ethical codes and figures of moral authority to translate the demands imposed by these a priori principles into practical action.
Naturally, absolutism still proves to be a popular way by which religious figures order their moral philosophy. Within the Christian tradition, even today, it tends to be the preferred option among the various Church authorities and to have a ring of respectability among conservative Christians which other schools of thought lack. William May, the Roman Catholic, and Paul Ramsey, the Protestant, are among the most typical of absolutists of the modern era. Believing that certain human acts are always wrong, regardless of circumstances, we find May (1987) taking a rigid line with respect to moral absolutes in medical practice. Similarly, Ramsey (1970) argued for an absolute prohibition against such procedures as artificial insemination, I.V.F., genetic engineering and most forms of foetal experimentation.
For all its appeal to those who seek certainties in life, as well as to institutions which have a need to bind together great masses of people under an identifiable moral code, absolutism is not without its logical and general philosophical problems. For instance, who decides what is right and wrong? Even if everyone were to agree that we need absolutes, what if people differ as to the authentic source of those absolutes? What happens when these sources are in conflict? Are all the supposed 'wrongs' as wrong as each other (eg. artificial insemination and cloning)? If not, what makes one more wrong than the other? If one is less wrong than the other, does this mean it could be sanctioned in circumstances which would still prohibit the greater wrong? Are all instances of a certain species of act always as wrong as each other (ie. all acts of abortion, of euthanasia, of genetic experimentation)? If we admit of degrees of rightness or wrongness, on what basis do we do this other than by reference to circumstances or consequences and so effectively move to a non-prescriptivist position? While many modernday absolutists try to address these objections by use of compromise principles, like that of 'doubleeffect' (cf. Mackie, 1986), they generally do little but exacerbate the problematics associated with absolutism.
Unfortunately, the Protagorean scheme of the modern era is not without its problems either. Known variously as 'situationism', ‘relativism’, 'contextualism', 'consequentialism', or plain 'utilitarianism', these teleological views represent a school of thought that rejects moral absolutes, speaking rather of the many contextual variables which make each moral situation distinctive. These contextual variables include those about circumstances, intentions of the subjects involved and about the practical consequences of actions under consideration. Joseph Fletcher (1966), arguably better than any other in the modern era, proposed that both Christian ethics and modern scientific methodologies demanded a new approach to moral decisionmaking, one which took full account of the situation at issue and which endowed large measures of reliance on human perception to make realistic judgments about these contextual variables. On the basis of this, Fletcher argued, at various times, for the potential licitness of particular acts of abortion (1979: 132f.), infanticide (1979: 140f.), euthanasia (1976: 249f.), suicide (1979: 166f.), cloning and cyrogenics (1987: 348f.).
The fact that no issue is ruled out, per se, is one of the perennial problems of situationism. Indeed, Harvey (1979) argued that even bestiality appeared to be a serious proposition for the situationists, signalling some alarm to all but the most adventurous of moralists. A greater philosophical problem, however, concerns the implicit absolutism that logically underlies most forms of situationism. It is surely impossible for even the most impartiallyminded to confront a situation devoid of any prescriptions. At the very least, one's previous experiences will have established covert norms regarding rights and wrongs. Indeed, it is more likely that a strong set of assumptions actually underlies even the most strident situationist's moral decisionmaking. Certainly, this is true of Fletcher (1966), who holds to the notion of Christian agape as offering the absolute norm for all human action. It could be argued that, in some ways, an implicit absolutism might be worse than an explicit one, in that the implicit absolutist norm becomes difficult to grasp, is beyond accountability and creates a virtually hidden agenda. Of all implicit absolutisms present in situationist positions, the most common is an inviolable trust in the powers of scientific methodologies to issue in indisputable moral stances.
So, we seem to find that, logically, neither absolutist nor situationist positions are sustainable without some reference and, indeed, recourse to each other. In itself, this fact seems to call for a third, more moderate, stance.
PROPORTIONIST ETHICS
One contemporary line of moral
philosophy has attempted to resolve the logical and practical
problems associated with absolutism and situationism, yet to
employ some of the strengths of each. The position known as 'proportionate
good' embodies not so much a new thought as a reformulation of
a very old one. Indeed, it is not difficult to trace the principle
of proportionism to Aristotle, who attempted
to balance the demand to attend to absolutes (something important
to Pythagoras and to Aristotle's own teacher, Plato) with the
need to trust our senseperceptions (indicating some influence
from Protagoras, the socalled Sophists generally and, most certainly,
from the godfather of all Greek thought, Socrates). For Aristotle,
there was a supreme good (eudaemonia), but just how it
should be applied in real situations required a particular type
of judgment, one which could take account of ideals as well as
address realities (cf. MacIntyre, 1974).
In medieval Christianity, Thomas Aquinas revived
much of Aristotelian thought. In contrast to Augustine's rebuking
of our human nature, Aquinas saw God's plan for us built into
our very nature (Summa, 1936: 1, 11, q. 106a 1). By using our
reason, we could discover truth, not only about this world, but
much about the world above as well. His notion of synderesis,
an endowment that urges each of us to seek truth, is regarded
as the most profound inborn disposition of practical intelligence
(Summa, 1936: 1, 11, q. 79a 13). In Aquinas, we find another
example of the proportionist principle: there are indeed
absolutes, but we can only know about them and their practical
applications by use of human reasoning powers. Blending
knowledge of absolutes with practical judgment is the business
of synderesis.
In the modern era, proportionist-like approaches have been made explicit in the works of Richard McCormick, Timothy O'Connell and Charles Curran. McCormick (1973) spoke of the a priori in terms of 'premoral' principles that offered general guidelines, as it were, but were not necessarily binding in all circumstances. They could be applied in tact or modified considerably, depending on the 'proportionate good' that could be obtained by particular courses of action. Similarly, in O'Connell's (1978) work, we find clear evidence of a sense of the a priori, yet of proportionality as a moderating and informing analytical tool, when he suggests the right action as being that "....which contains the proportionally greatest maximization of good and minimization of evil." (p. 147) In similar vein, Curran's (1968) 'compromise principle' appeared to be based, in part at least, on the same sense of proportionality. Simply put, Curran suggested that the good and the bad, conceived in a priori terms, were often interlinked in an imperfect world, and so we had to be prepared to compromise in order to maximize the possibilities of goodness outweighing badness. On the basis of this thinking, we find Curran (1987) arguing for the positive benefits of various forms of medical intervention and technology that, traditionally, had been frowned upon within his Roman Catholic tradition.
In general, the proportionist account seems to have taken the 'double effect' principle from the absolutist and superseded it. This latter principle contained the huge problematic of positing absolute and universal principles which, nonetheless, could be waived on the basis of the proportion of good to bad effects involved in a given situation. In contrast, proportionism would seem to say the more honest thing, namely, that principles which can be waived or modified, owing to circumstances, are obviously not absolute and universal, but are contingent upon the variables implicit in different contexts. At the same time, however, it preserves far better than situationism the important notion of there being a body of a priori principles which are relevant to the practicalities of ethical decision-making.
In fact, proportionism posits a veritable pool of premoral principles related to any issue, by which the direction of moral judgments might be set. In a case of abortion, these principles might include ones which speak of a foetus's right to life, a woman's rights over her own body, a person's right to health and sanity, as well as husband's rights, children's rights, grandparents' rights and general community rights. The question of the establishment of these rights is not of central importance to the theory of proportionism. Whether of human construction or, in some sense given, what matters to proportionism is their prima facie status. That is, they have face validity, a validity that will be tested at the coal face of particular moral dilemmas. In any particular dilemma, these prima facie, pre-moral principles will jostle for primary position, to become the determinant and applied moral principle. The ethicist's task is to do the determining, to make a choice as to which premoral principle is likely to issue in the maximum of 'proportionate good'. This is where the proportionist leans towards the situationist position. How can this moral judgement be made other than by reference to the situation at hand, and by trust in the datagathering capacity of human perception? In a scientific age, this is an essential ingredient in ensuring the credibility of any bioethical school of thought, as well as the credibility of the entire quest for bioethics to be a player in scientific consideration of burning contemporary issues (cf. Lovat, 1991).
THE DISTINCTIVE CONTRIBUTION OF PROPORTIONISM TO SCIENTIFIC ASSESSMENT IN A ‘POST-SCIENTIFIC’ AGE
While its commitment to scientific methodologies is complete, the proportionist line differs from the out-and-out utilitarian position in its propensity to moderate the scientific 'answer' with the influence of the pre-moral principle, or a priori. In other words, it is comfortable with the anomalous position that, in any ethical dilemma, the way ahead which is signalled by the scientific probe and even most measures of common sense may still not contain the fullness of wisdom. This wisdom might impel an action that defies both science and the prima facie presentations of common sense. Such anomalies are seen regularly in bioethics when, for instance, decisions are made to prolong treatment to patients who are clinically beyond hope (cf. Mitchell & Lovat, 1993; Mitchell, Kerridge & Lovat, 1993; Borthwick, 1995). Such anomalies are also central to many of the debates to be found within gene technology, including those about patenting, a concept that makes perfect sense only if premised against a scientific and purely rational world (cf. Holtug, 1995; Evans, 2002; White, 2002).
Inevitably, proportionism is not designed to please advocates of either hard-line position, neither absolutism nor situationism. The absolutist may rail against it for purporting to posit universal determinants which are in fact malleable to the situation at hand. The thoroughgoing situationist is equally likely to be disenchanted by a situational analysis which, however rigorous the process and clear the result, is liable to modification by an insertion of the apparently mystical.
The
value of the proportionist line over and against an unqualified
absolutism seems fairly obvious. The former contains
a flexibility, a realism and a facility for addressing bioethical
issues in a contemporary way which the latter lacks. Its value
over and against situationism is perhaps a little harder to grasp.
Utilitarian positions in general have, after all, held somewhat
of a monopoly over the past few decades in their claims to suitability
to our new pluralist society. Hence, the popular tendency
from the 1960s onwards has been to treat ethics as mere social
science, with all the research methodology and consensus-seeking
stratagems proper to the hard end of social science. If
this was suitable to the forms of plurality found in Western
societies of those times, it can scarcely be so today.
Contemporary societies like Australia, the USA, UK and Canada,
with their growing portions of fundamentalist Christianity, significant
Islamic and Buddhist populations, and the increasing trend for
seeking answers to life’s big questions through 'New Age'
movements and non-scientific ways of knowing generally, are pluralist
in a way which much of pure-bred social science can fail to note
or admit. In this new
pluralism,
there is an apparent distrust of the mundane world of the social
scientist, and a strong seeking of positions best described as
'other'. In this sort of pluralist society, hard-core utilitarianism
and its ethical strategies require modification, and this modification
can easily be seen in the re-positioning evident in recent bioethical
research across a number of fields (cf. Macklin, 1995; Davis,
1996; Magnusson, 1996; Doukas & Berg, 2001; Robertson, 2001;
Miller & Brody, 2002; Zoloth, 2002.
Modification can, of course, turn to reaction. If this were the case, the most likely candidate to fill the gap in this new pluralist society would be a renewed and very rigid absolutism. There are already strong signs of this tendency in the societies mentioned above, seen in renewed moves to outlaw abortion, tighten divorce laws, constrain genetic experimentation, and the like (cf. PCB, 2002). While the proportionist position may not satisfy all of those who are disposed to absolutism, it is likely to satisfy a sufficient number to avoid wholesale reaction. Proportionism, after all, possesses that sense of 'other' which so many are seeking, while still allowing people to work in the real world, trust their judgments, engage in social science, and analyze the realities of the live situations which confront them. As Curran indicated, it is the most plausible compromise between the demands of two very different world-views.
The
value of a proportionist position is best captured when we realize
that any ethical decision which runs counter to accepted or popular
norms cannot be underestimated in terms of its potential to create
tension, fear or recrimination. This can be the case even when
the final decision is, from the rational view, clearly for the
good. The line of proportionist ethics seems to accept this likely
tension and to provide a rationale for understanding it.
For a start, proportionism accepts that there are general norms
by which the community lives,
and that they are important and worthy of heeding. Nonetheless,
it does not hold to the belief that this is all there is to the
business of ethics. Especially in a scientific age, it proposes,
ethics must proceed in a scientific way. Consequently, there
is a need for the community of ethicists to work progressively,
logically and meticulously through the data provided by any case
in hand, to scrutinize the evidence, discuss its significance
and, having examined all factors, to collaborate on working towards
the best decision available. Only then, is it right and proper
to waive, adjust or modify the general norm that pertains to
a particular case.
On the other hand, against the rampant situationism that can ensue from waiving or adjusting time-honoured norms, the proportionist’s attention to the role of the a priori will caution that not all the solutions to life's problems are to be found at the end of rationality and science. On the contrary, many of the most deeply valued phenomena of human life, such as love, friendship, altruism and valour, are far from the neat products of rationality and science. What is best for the human community may not always conform to the outcome of the cost/benefit analysis nor even to what seems most clearly the expedient choice in terms of resource allocation criteria. It may not necessarily conform even to the explicit wishes of a particular patient about his/her treatment options nor even to individual rights, however well enshrined in law and custom (cf. Parsi & Egan, 2002). It is always possible that the ethical choice will defy all of these factors. It is possible that, on the best grounds, ethical decisions may be made which are at odds with the scientific conclusion, these best grounds comprising a value which is judged to be of such an overwhelming order that tampering with it might threaten the very foundations on which human life as we understand it has been built. Whether this overwhelming value is absolute or impermanent may be of only passing philosophical interest to the decision-makers of a particular generation. It is unremarkable to point out that the community's perceptions of such overwhelming moral oughts can and does change. However, each generation's decision-makers can do little but make those decisions that seem most wholesome and authentic in their own time. These may not always be the best decisions from the points of view of those who would wish to impose fixed and universal laws given from above, nor of those who would wish to follow the dictates of the most coldly objective scientific probe.. At the heart of the proportionist quest, lies a balance between the time-honoured ‘given’ and the objectified imperative of the situation at hand.
CONCLUSION
No
doubt, many of the fixed and universal ethical stances imposed
over time have failed in recent times to provide effective guidance
to generations facing more complex dilemmas and demanding more
scientific approaches to solving them. Nonetheless, the
further one moves from belief in a set of ethical absolutes,
given and imposed from above, the more important it is that clear,
precise and objective criteria are established by which ethical
perceptions and judgments might be guided. For all the rhetoric
of scientific objectivity often associated with forms of situationism,
it has been common to find them lacking in specificity regarding
guidance in making the utilitarian decision at the heart of the
position. Furthermore, the ‘science’ that lay
at the heart of many utilitarian attempts to advance ethics and
bioethics is itself under fire from a generation that is still
scientifically reliant yet more wary of the promises of science
to provide all of the answers, especially in areas of life requiring
comprehensive and sensitive treatment. It is in this context
that proportionism is proposed as an approach to bioethical deliberation
that is sufficiently ‘moderately scientific’ to be
viable in a ‘moderately post-scientific age’.
As an aside and as suggested through its strong foundations in
medieval scholastic thought, it may also be the most authentically
Catholic of the various positions available to Roman Catholic
Moral Theology in the current era. As such, its working
up and vigorous application to the burning ethical issues of
the day could place the Church once again at the forefront of
ethical leadership in a world in desperate need of such leadership.
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