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Today's Post :: Sep. 29, 2007 Today, I wrote the abstract of my presentation, which will be presented at UNESCO Kumamoto conference to be held in.... >> Read more

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From: Painless Civilization and Fundamental Sense of Security
    One of the most debated topics today in the field of bioethics is the ethics of manipulating human fertilized eggs, especially for the purpose of selecting a better child or producing an enhanced child. For example, so-called post-humanists encourage progress in this kind of manipulation, saying that there are no serious ethical problems with these technologies. In contrast, Leon Kass and Bill McKibben doubt the progress of these technologies, and caution that they can never offer the happiness we are seeking. In Japan, too, a similar academic discussion has begun among philosophers, bioethicists, and sociologists. In 2003, I published the book Painless Civilization, and discussed this topic from the viewpoint of “preventive reduction of pain” and of its fundamental effects on our sense of “love.” After the book’s publication, there appeared a number of comments and criticisms from within and outside the academy. In this paper, I would like to outline some of the points I discussed in the book, and correlate them with discussions in current bioethical debates surrounding this topic.
    Before moving on to the discussion of painless civilization, I would like to examine the ethical analysis of prenatal diagnosis in the report, Beyond Therapy: Biotechnology and the Pursuit of Happiness, by the President’s Council on Bioethics published in 2003. This report was written under the strong influence of the chairman, Leon Kass. Although I do not necessarily agree with Kass’s conservative ideas about abortion and the family, I believe this report is a masterpiece of recent American bioethics, particularly in that the discussion was made in terms of philosophical anthropology. (And as an Asian agnostic philosopher, I really enjoyed their Judeo-Christian flavor in their discussion about ethical issues.) ................ This report examines the morality of preimplantation genetic diagnosis (PGD), and points out that “the goal of eliminating embryos and fetuses with genetic defects carries the unspoken implication that certain ‘inferior’ kinds of human beings—for example, those with Down syndrome—do not deserve to live.” Of course the use of these technologies will remain voluntary, but “its growing use could have subtly coercive consequences for prospective parents and could increase discrimination against the ‘unfit’.” The report says that there is the prospect of “diminished tolerance for the ‘imperfect,’ especially those born with genetic disorders that could have been screened out,” and as a result, disabled children and their parents might be gazed at with unspoken questions, “Why were you born?” and “Why did you let him live?” In the end, “it may become difficult for parents to resist the pressure, both social and economic, of the ‘consensus’ that children with sufficiently severe and detectable disabilities must not be born.”
    Their discussion reminds me of voices of Japanese disabled activists. In 1972, disabled people with cerebral palsy began a movement to fight against the government’s effort to introduce a special clause for selective abortion into the Eugenic Protection Law. They harshly criticized the government policy to annihilate disabled babies by way of prenatal diagnosis and selective abortion. They also criticized ordinary non-disabled people’s latent “egoism,” the egoism to think that disabled people do not deserve to live in our society. Disabled activists thought that our society was filled with this kind of discriminative consciousness, and that this hidden consciousness was the real problem of selective abortion.
    I wrote about it elsewhere in Japanese and English; hence in this paper, I would like to skip the detailed analysis of their opinions, and try to show my interpretation of their thoughts on prenatal diagnosis and disability. They discussed two problems that lurk behind prenatal diagnosis with selective abortion.
    The first problem is that it psychologically disempowers existing disabled people. If such technologies become prevalent in society, many ordinary people gradually come to think in front of them, “Why were congenitally disabled people like you born in the age of prenatal screening?” and “I wish you were not born.” Surrounded by this kind of unspoken words and glances, disabled people are gradually deprived of the power to affirm themselves and the courage to live. In such a society, the majority of people would choose to abort severely disabled fetuses; to existing disabled people, this means that the majority of people do not wish to live with them. Even if they don’t speak out, their unconscious attitudes and glances would naturally express their inner thoughts about disabled people. Looking at such attitudes many times, disabled people will come to fully realize that they are unwelcome guests to the whole society, and this consciousness deprives them of self-affirmation as people with disability.
    This is the essence of their view when they were faced with the possibility of selective abortion performed after amniocentesis in the early 1970s. Their idea can be fully applied to future ethical problems that will be caused by PGD and other screening technologies. We can find a similar discussion in the President Council’s report. I am surprised by disabled activists’ foresight on this point. I would like to talk about this topic later from a different angle.

From: Painless Civilization
    I wonder if contemporary society might now be being swallowed up by a pathology, the pathology of “painless civilization.” I would like to deliver this book to those who are in the midst of anxiety covered over with pleasure, in the midst of repetition without any joy, and in the midst of an endless labyrinth without exit, but are nevertheless willing to live their lives without regret in a corner of their minds.
    The first part, from Chapter 1 to Chapter 6, originally appeared serially in a magazine from 1998 to 2000, and then was completely rewritten for this book. The original serial publication provoked a massive response among people who were interested in philosophy.
    I then wrote the conclusion, Chapter 7 and Chapter 8, newly for this book. In Chapter 8, the secret of “painless civilization” is finally uncovered.
    When we feel, in contemporary society, a vague anxiety as if we are totally wrapped in a transparent film, we might be sensing the existence of “painless civilization” in an intuitive manner. This book is an endeavor to give a name to this kind of feeling that the readers would have experienced at least once in their life.
    A civilization without pain and suffering seems to be the ideal of the human race. However, I wonder if people might end up with losing sight of joy, and forgetting the meaning of life, in a society pervaded by pain reduction mechanisms and filled with pleasure.
    I first came up with the words “painless civilization” when I attended a lecture by a nurse working for one of the largest hospitals in Japan.
    She talked about an aged female patient in the intensive care unit she was taking charge of. The patient had an injury in the brain. The patient was attached to monitors and given intravenous nutrition and drugs. The nurses gave sensitive care to the patient in the room in which the temperature was properly controlled. The patient’s condition was improved, and became steady, but the nurse had an unspeakable feeling during the care of the patient. Every time when she dried the patient’s body with a towel, or changed the position of the patient in bed, the question came to her “What on earth are we doing?”
    This is because although the patient did not have a clear consciousness, she was still alive in a state of peaceful sleep. Given proper medical treatment and nursing care, the patient kept sleeping deeply and peacefully. The patient would probably never wake up again. Given nutrition and drugs, and with her body kept clean by sensitive nursing care, the patient would keep sleeping pleasantly in the room in which the temperature was comfortably controlled.
    A human being who keeps sleeping with a peaceful expression, wrapped in an perfectly controlled environment. No need to work. No need to study. No worries of life. Free from daily tasks. No pain, anxiety, or fear. All the patient does is just stay in a state of comfortable and peaceful sleep protected from all those worries.
    The nurse said, “I wonder what contemporary civilization aims to create in the end might be the state of a human being like this.”
    Aren’t the activities of contemporary civilization nothing but to create, on a social scale, this kind of human being sleeping peacefully in intensive care units? Isn’t contemporary civilization systematically trying to create humans, in the intensive care units named cities, the humans who look at first sight to be working cheerfully and playing merrily, but in fact just sleeping peacefully in the deep layer of their life? If that should be the case, then, who set the trap? Why has civilization progressed in this direction?

From: The Ethics of Human Cloning and the Sprout of Human Life
    (.............) One of the most interesting terms in the Japanese discussion on human cloning is “the sprout of human life” which appears in the Japanese law and many other materials. Not only people who object to human cloning, but also many of those who seek to promote research on human cloning admit that a human embryo is the sprout of human life and, hence, it should be highly respected.
    The government translated the term as “the beginning of human life,” but this translation loses an important nuance. When they hear the words “the sprout of human life”, many Japanese feel some kind of vigorous energy moving inside the embryo. It might be biological energy, or it might be spiritual. This energy does not mean the mere “future possibility” of becoming a person. It is something that actually exists inside the embryo.
    It is also interesting that the locus of human dignity is expressed as “sprout,” because this word means the bud of a “plant,” not an animal. However, Shizuka Shirakawa, a prominent linguist, insists that the Chinese character meaning “sprout” contains that of “fang”, and this means the sprout of a plant has a wild, animal-like energy. I presume that the energy in the sprout of human life is probably something that is shared by plants, animals and humans. Hence, many Japanese feel that it should be respected as much as possible. This concept is reminiscent of Masao Maruyama’s well-known words, “tsugi tsugi ni nariyuku ikihohi” (flowing energy that transforms and develops itself one after another) to be found in the ancient layer of Japanese consciousness of history. Maruyama came upon this concept in Kojiki. In this sense, ancient Japanese writings and contemporary bioethics literature might share similar ideas on life and death.
    Now let us turn our attention to “language” or “discourse.” People who wish to maintain the ban on therapeutic human cloning are journalists, feminists, and researchers critical of the “progress” of scientific technology. Their “language” is based on the “language of scepticism”: scepticism about the propaganda that the progress of science and medicine brings us “health and happiness.” They do not believe this kind of optimism. And they try to keep away from “religion” as much as possible, because in Japan “religious language” has not worked as an instrument of criticism. But precisely because of this, their arguments have not been as persuasive as they had anticipated.
    By contrast, the “language of utilitarianism” used by the advocates of advanced medicine seems very powerful. Supporters of regenerative medicine emphasise the benefit of research to the general public, particularly patients with intractable diseases. Not only researchers but also patients themselves talk about their expectations from medical progress. Their language is simple, direct, and forceful. We see an echo of this utilitarianism in the Commission’s Interim Report.
    It is striking that we encounter no important comments or opinions on this topic in the religious sector. In its Interim Report, the Commission reported that they could find no important opinions in Japanese Buddhism, Shinto, or Japanese Christianity. My own impression is similar. To my knowledge, they have published no reports on human cloning or other related topics. I can offer no explanation for their silence on human cloning research.
    Interestingly, both supporters and opponents use the words “human rights” and “human dignity.” They do not debate these concepts because they accept their importance. Instead, the debate is between the “language of utilitarianism” and the “language of scepticism.” And the “language of religion” remains silent. Even disabled people seem to be torn between support and opposition. We should be aware of the fact that many Japanese disabled people have been critical of the “progress” of medical technology and of “eugenic ideas” (see my paper “Disability Movement and Inner Eugenic Thought.”) At the same time, however, there are disabled people’s groups that look forward to the development of new technology (e.g., Japan Spinal Cord Foundation). This is the rough sketch of the Japanese discourse on research on human cloning.
    My personal view is that a stronger argument is needed for protecting the value of the human embryo, including a cloned human embryo, especially in Japan where the “language of religion” has little clout in the discussion. Instead of religious language, we need “philosophical language” to affirm the value of a human embryo or “the sprout of human life.”
    What is it we wish to protect when we use the word “the sprout of human life”? The answer would be “a vigorous energy to develop and transform itself” that we once were, that we came from, and that we still have at the basis of our existence. This is what we have to protect, even if its destruction would be beneficial to the progress of medicine. Why then should we protect it? The answer would be that its destruction means the destruction of something very important which we actually “share” at the basis of our lives; hence, its destruction might lead to the destruction of ourselves. The ultimate danger of research on human embryo is that in the long run it might erode something very important inside us in the name of social welfare and the progress of medicine. We need “philosophical language” to explain the core meaning of the words “something very important” in a way that can be easily understood by the general public. In this sense, we need a new “philosophy of life,” or “life studies,” which will give us the wisdom to protect “something very important” from our own selfish desire to live a long and healthy life.

From: Life Studies Blog October 20, 2005 Chiune Sugihara, the Japanese Schindler
    October 11th, the TV drama, Visas for Six Thousand People's Lives: Sempo Sugihara, the Japanese Schindler, was aired on Yomiuri Television. The story was really moving. Sempo (Chiune Sempo) Sugihara was born in 1900 in Gifu Prefecture, Japan. In 1939, Sempo was sent to Lithuania as consul. One morning in 1940, Sempo and his family were surprised at a number of Jewish refugees gathering at the gate of the Japanese Embassy. They asked him to issue transit visas to pass through Japan because other countries refused to issue any visas to the Jews. Sempo wondered if he could issues visas, and asked the Japanese government, however, they firmly rejected Sempo's proposal. It became clear that issuing visas was contrary to the policy of the Japanese government, and that if he did he might lose his job as a diplomat. But, in front of the gate there were a number of Jewish people waiting for transit visas. They might lose their lives if they do not get visas.
    After a few days of hesitation, he finally decided to issue transit visas to them. He started to issue a number of visas to the Jews, day and night, with the help of his secretary and his wife. Soon, the Russian police came to the Embassy and forced him to get out of the building. He and his family stayed at a hotel, and continued to issue visas. Many Jews gathered around the hotel. Then he was forced to get out of Lithuania. On the last day, on the platform in front of the train he still continued issuing. He wrote and wrote and wrote. The number of visas he wrote was more than 3 thousand, and almost 6 thousand Jewish people's lives were saved. He is said to have written more than 300 visas a day. Those Jews were called Sugihara Survivers today.
    After the end of World War II, Sugihara was fired from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. He was 47 years old (the same age as me...). He spent the rest of his life quietly at home doing some translation works. One day in 1969, a Jewish man who was saved by Sempo, came to meet him. This man had long been trying to find him, and finally found Sempo's house. They met, and Sempo knew for the first time the people he issued visas to were alive in Israel. In 1985, he was recognized as "Rightous among the nations" in Israel. He died next year peacefully.
Because Sempo kept silence after the war, his achievements had not been known to the Japanese, and the world audience, until recently.     Probably, many people who watched this TV program got to know Sempo and what he did during the war for the first time. This was a really good TV drama.
    I remember that in a bioethics meeting held in Tokyo in the early 1990s, Frank Leavitt, a philosopher from Israel, talked about Sempo Sugihara before his academic presentation. At that time I did not know anything about Sempo. Many Japanese audience would have been the same.
    About Sempo Chiune Sugihara, visit the article at Jewish Virtual Library. If you read Japanese Wiki will be helpful.