The Alleged Ethical Neutrality

We have already mentioned the close metaphysical association between Technology and Ethics, which is complemented by the unresolved debate over the alleged ethical neutrality of science. The most common position holds that science seeks only knowledge and understanding of the world; evaluative criteria are therefore entirely external to scientific activity. In this view, science does not pronounce on the possible uses of knowledge and is thus ethically neutral. Technology, by contrast, is attributed a much less “pure” character: it adapts that knowledge to the uses that society, or whoever holds decision-making power, chooses to assign to it. That technology is not ethically neutral is evident. The same knowledge and means can be directed toward ends of very different moral valuation. Chemical technology leads both to weapons of mass destruction and to antibiotics; biotechnology is a blessing in many respects and may also become a new Pandora’s box.

However, it must be acknowledged that science itself is not as neutral as it is often portrayed, even if it may have been closer to that ideal in the time of Galileo and Newton. At the very least, value judgments are implicit in the choice of research topics. One of the central facts of the recent history of science is that most of the enormous scientific advances of the twentieth century were driven not by a disinterested search for truth, but by the needs of the military systems of the major hegemonic powers. Today, military needs appear to have receded, while economic interests and large corporations promote scientific creation and tend to appropriate its results. Scientists often reply that, regardless of the motivations behind funding, knowledge of the conditions under which atomic fission occurs is objective data, neither good nor bad in itself, and that the pursuit of knowledge is an end in itself, since it is better to know more than to know less.

Freedom in the pursuit of knowledge and the public character of that knowledge are themselves highly valuable social goods. Secrecy and dogmatism alike reduce the capacity to seek knowledge and to place it at the service of humanity as a whole. This moral philosophy of science is a product of the Renaissance and one of the foundations of Modernity, as well as the basis of the professional deontology of scientists.

Yet, and unfortunately for those formed within this scientific ethic, it is possible that ethical independence and constant freedom of inquiry will be seen by future historiography as characteristics of a relatively brief historical period. One of the core positions of defenders of absolute freedom of scientific research has always been resistance to censorship by any authority other than “peer judgment.” The only limiting criteria were to be the quality of the work and the consistency of its results. Nevertheless, we have seen that during much of the period of greatest scientific expansion, research—including work on the most basic theoretical principles in fields of potential military interest—was financed, and therefore influenced and controlled, by military systems. This applied especially to one of the fundamental criteria of scientific knowledge: its public character. Many forms of scientific knowledge related to weapons of mass destruction remain secret and are conditioned by political efforts to prevent proliferation.

More recently, scientific activity has shifted from physics toward materials science and biotechnology, with academic researchers themselves influencing the selection of research topics. As a result, the outcomes of “basic” scientific research with potential technological applications are no longer published with the traditional generosity and academic openness. In biotechnology in particular, increasing numbers of researchers found small high-technology firms and patent their results rather than sharing them.

It is still too early to see clearly where science as a social activity is heading, but the danger of its full incorporation into a mega-technical power system is evident. Scientific activity, understood as the pursuit of knowledge as an end in itself, may come to be confined to areas for which no applications can be envisaged, even in the distant future.

There are several fields in which the ethical character of scientific research is a matter of immediate concern. One is obvious: science placed at the service of war. Others are comparably dangerous in the current international context, where the threat of nuclear holocaust that loomed for fifty years has largely receded. Genetic manipulation of the germinal plasma could lead to unexpected and undesirable outcomes. Neurochemical research aimed at elucidating the chemical mechanisms of emotions also presents the risk that such mechanisms could one day be manipulated in pursuit of political or economic interests.

We must therefore conclude that the ethical neutrality of science applies only to the abstract concept of “knowledge” and cannot be sustained in view of the social structures that support and finance the costly research required by modern science. Even less defensible is the ethical neutrality of Technology, which demands even greater investments unlikely to be made without the expectation of returns. An apparent exception lies in large state-funded projects in developed countries, such as much of space exploration. In fact, these projects function as medium-term investments, from which a social return is expected in the form of technologies applicable to other domains.

Regarding the foundations of ethics itself, often closely linked to Technology as action rather than merely to its applications, Mario Bunge argues for the essential objectivity of science as a major intellectual enterprise and seeks greater influence of scientific thinking in philosophy, particularly in ethics. He aims to ground ethics in science and even in logic. Applying a “scientistic” definition of technology—since for him science and technology are closely intertwined—he speaks of what he calls “techno-ethics,” from a somewhat technocratic and formalist perspective. He laments the intuitive and traditionally dogmatic origins of ethics and seeks a scientific way to ground it. Where many traditional philosophers emphasize the absolute character of ethical foundations, Bunge stresses that the value of a fact is strongly conditioned by circumstances. Yet, ultimately, any grounding of ethics confronts the need to give content to the terms “good” and “bad,” even if, as Bunge rightly notes, that content may be valid only under certain conditions.

In asserting the ethical neutrality of science, Bunge draws a sharp distinction between science and technology, since the latter, as we have seen, is not ethically neutral. Like Bacon, however, he claims that perverse technology can be eliminated by rejecting bad ends. This returns us to the starting point: defining what is good or bad, while context once again disappears from the argument. The philosopher John Passmore delivered a decisive critique of the alleged ethical neutrality of science vis-à-vis the greater responsibility of technologists, comparing it to the hypocritical stance of the Holy Inquisition, which, once guilt had been established, handed heretics over to the “secular arm” for execution so that the Church would not soil its hands with torture and killing. It is not enough for scientists to claim ethical neutrality and shift responsibility for negative consequences onto technologists, society at large, or decision-making elites. Scientists, too, must assume responsibility for the consequences of their discoveries.

From these considerations it is only a short step to the question of whether there should be areas into which scientific research ought not to venture, because the ethical consequences of possible technological applications would be too grave. Some philosophers are posing this question, even though most scientists respond with an unequivocal no, and even though a qualified yes from some researchers would likely lack practical effect.

The prohibition of certain types of research has already entered legislation in some countries. For example, there is a degree of consensus on legally banning research that could lead to the cloning of human beings. In some cases, the impossibility of prohibiting specific laboratory work is addressed by prohibiting its funding. Another line of inquiry that has been restricted by law concerns research that could eventually lead to the establishment of nuclear waste repositories, although in this case it can hardly be said to involve scientific research in the strict sense.