Moral Responsibility
Reflecting on Professor Glenn Seahorg's excellent article, "Some Recollections of Early Nuclear Aee Chemistrv." on nane 278 of this issue. with all the m&ories it br;hgs of 'how this chemistry and the physics associated with it have affected the world, we cannot resist the urge to think again about the moral responsibility of the scientist for his discoveries. So much has been written and said on this matter that were i t not for a nagging uncertainty about the wisdom and cogency of much of this, it would be difficult to justify still another discourse. The central question continues to be: Should the scientist, who by his discoveries can alter civilization so remarkably, be completely free to pursue his interests wherever they lead him, or should there he a restriction on his pursuits imposed by the realization that intellectually and morally man is a t present incapable of living successfully with certain results from scientific inquiry? Obviously the ramifications of this question are enormous; an adequate response would fill a book. Yet there may he value in even a terse reminder of the issues-issues that are viewed as variously among scientists as they are disparaged by many humanist scholars. For the idealistic scientist the answer to the central question is exhilaratingly simple: There can he and there must he no restrictions on the pursuit of pure knowledge. This group argues that a good portion of the pain and misery abroad in the world arises because we do not sufficientlyunderstand and hence have not been able to adequately control our health and our environment. Science is actively attacking these prohlems in the best way it knows how-an attack that by most standards has been eminently successful in the past. To restrict this attack means to leave our neighbor in pain, to deny future generations a chance for a healthier, more productive existence. It is to be expected that as knowledge of nature increases, both henefits and dangers to man will multiply-when man stood to walk, he risked falling; in lighting a fire, he chanced cremation; in building a technological civilization, he risked abolition of unamenable individualism. If lives are lost in applying the new knowledge, scores more will he saved and thousands more will benefit. To the idea that man, holding the push-button of world destruction in his hand, cannot resist the temptation to press it, the idealist would respond with Julian Huxley that there is no specific war instinct in man; that he has the ability to resist the temptation. He needs only the will to resist it.
editorially speaking
Like the idealist, the pragmatic scientist also would argue against restriction in the pursuit of knowledge, hut for different reasons. Reluctantly, hut thoughtfully, he accepts the assertion that men and nations are intellectually and morally incapable of peaceful coexistence without the threat of massive retaliation. From experience he knows that to remain competitive there can he no restrictions on research. He believes that major scientific breakthroughs are neither limited to the mighty nor are they guaranteed to the brilliant; success and safety depend on probability with the affluently diligent being favored. For him the nation that shackles its scientists imperils its citizenry. Yet he imagines no halo around the scientific effort. He knows that most research is failure, much is insignificant and that frequently a scientist has no idea a t the time of a discovery what use will be made of it. Nevertheless he feels his work is important; he considers himself a responsible hut colorless, even anonymous, contributor to society. Life and human values are important to him; in his own way he works to enrich them. By contrast, a few humanist scholars have quite a different view of the problem. To them the central question reads: Should the blind surgeon he given a license to practice? These men see danger in the scientist himself-in his extreme optimism, which the humanist interprets as insensitivity to the true human condition; in his clinical attitude, which the humanist sees as ruthlessness, devoid of compassion; in his posture of objectivity, interpreted as unexcelled hypocrisy; in his penchant for progress, viewed as opportunism borne of a failure to appreciate the lessons of history; in his position of prominence, decried lest it give him more power than he is qualified to handle. In the minds of many humanists, the scientist not only hears a different drummer, he feels with an alien soul. Given no restrictions he will surely destroy the world. And thus the issues are joined; the scientist has his case for freedom, the humanist has his for restriction. In the final analysis there i s restriction on the scientific effort. It is the restriction imposed by the character of the scientist himself who, in the very struggle to learn more about nature, has learned to understand and to appreciate its richest products-human life and human dignity. This understanding and this appreciation constitute the moral code of the scientist and they restrict his actions and his judgments accordingly. WTL
Volume 45, Number 5, May 1968
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