Put Down That Toothbrush

Anton Von Leeuwenhoek is famous for scraping the plaque off the exceedingly dirty teeth of the elderly men of Delft. He is still remembered today for his crude attempt at oral hygiene because he was the first person to describe bacteria and a host of other “cavorting beasties” that were visible in the plaque under his crude microscopes. (Leeuwenhoek originally called them “wretched beasties,” but time has been kind to the bacteria.) He described them jumping about with their grotesque appendages and strange methods of locomotion. He collected his specimens from, among other locations, teeth that had gone a lifetime un-brushed. Leeuwenhoek is considered a founder of the study of microscopic, single-celled organisms, a discipline which has led in our day to the study of, among other things, bacteria, algae and embryonic stem cells.

The spirit of the Dutch republic was tolerant, and Leeuwenhoek was left to collect samples from the teeth of old men, from fresh rainwater and from tidal pools on the coast. If Leeuwenhoek lived today, he might have been hassled by another set of beasties who make their homes not in pond water but in Washington. According to the twisted logic of a passel of ethicists, scientists and others hand-picked by the Bush administration, scraping a sample from an old man’s gums to peer at it under a microscope could be ethically questionable.

The ethical issue arises from the potential contained within every human cell—including those in your mouth—to produce a genetically identical human being. This potential has dominated the contemporary debate about cloning. The procedure involves taking all the DNA from one cell and inserting it into an unfertilized egg to grow a new animal (human or otherwise). Even the cells that slough off your gums when you brush your teeth could be used to make a whole new person. Of course, the most virulent opponents of cloning will not soon want to ban tooth-brushing. But they insist that the potential for life must be protected and oppose cloning human embryos for research purposes, even if the DNA comes not from a sperm and an egg but from an everyday skin cell. The potential for life found in normal skin cells, however, is of less concern. This inconsistency shows the difficulty of maintaining that the potential for human life should be treated with the same respect as a full-grown person. The opponents of research cloning are scrambling up a slippery slope.

The President’s Council of Bioethics ran into this very problem last July in considering a ban on cloning. Opponents of cloning for research (and not reproductive) purposes prevailed in persuading a majority of members to vote to recommend a four-year moratorium on the practice. The decision to support a moratorium rather than an outright ban was seen as a strategic decision by the more conservative members who knew that a ban would be harder to stomach. As council member and Bass Professor of Government Michael J. Sandel observed, “To accept a moratorium rather than a ban presupposes that maybe sometime down the road this would be morally permissible, and otherwise, the principled position is a ban… The moratorium doesn’t capture that position.” However, many of the council members, including its chair, Leon R. Kass, have publicly declared their fervent opposition to cloning of any kind. The potential for life must be protected, they argue, and cloning disrespects that potential.

But as Sandel pointed out, the principled position that holds the potential for human life—such as an embryo—to have the same moral status as a person makes an outright ban on research cloning the only logical option. By voting for a moratorium, the members of the committee sidestepped the crucial issues surrounding the potential for life. If the cloning opponents had been consistent, they would have called for a moratorium on tooth brushing as well.

It is understandable, however, that the members of the committee would wish to drag out the debate over cloning. After all, some members make their money pontificating about the immorality with which science threatens humanity. They sometimes treat scientists (who composed less than one-fifth of the committee) much like the Royal Society of London treated Leeuwenhoek when he began sending them his observations of microbes—that is, with a hint of bemused paternalism. Leeuwenhoek was an unschooled man who spoke only Dutch and felt patronized by the great learned men of London.

How can scientists (all of whom on the committee voted to allow cloning research) win back the trust politicians and avoid being remembered (or mis-remembered) in history as the mistreated Leeuwenhoeks of the cloning debate? They need to make the opponents of cloning face up to slippery slope on which they rest their arguments. By selectively maintaining that the potential for human life deserves protection, opponents of cloning take a principled position that is ultimately impractical. Thus, scientists should argue that the threshold for human life is much higher than a few cells in a dish. The possible medical benefits of research cloning are enormous. Instead of delaying scientific advances, the government should agree to reasonable regulations.

Jonathan H. Esensten ’04 is a biochemical sciences concentrator in Lowell House. His column appears on alternate Thursdays.