Leslie Pickering Francis University of Utah In my talk as part of this symposium, I took up these interrelated questions: (1) What should be the function or functions of the President’s Council, as it deals with issues such as stem cell research that apparently feature moral disagreement at the deepest level? Should it act as an "expert" scientific body providing peer-reviewed advice, such as the National Academy of Sciences? Should it provide ethical advice, and on what basis? Or, should it function to generate consensus on controversial issues, and in what sense? (2) How has the Council conceptualized its own functions, and what metaethical view(s) might lie behind these conceptualizations? (3) What are some of the crucial demographic similarities and differences among members of the Council that might be relevant to claims about the status of any consensus it might generate? (4) IF the Council sees itself as functioning to generate consensus, what sense of "consensus" is it using? Is this "consensus" in any interesting moral or political sense? My argument, in brief, is this. The Council sees itself as trying to provide the president with consensus reports on difficult ethical issues. But its makeup is too remarkably uniform on several important dimensions for the consensus it generates to be interesting as a representative political matter. Moreover, its approach to the analysis of stem cell research suggests that any consensus it has generated with respect to that issue can at best be regarded as a modus vivendi rather than an "overlapping consensus," to put the point in Rawlsian terminology. Its "consensus" report, therefore, is of limited interest as a moral justification. Tasks for the Council Bodies such as the President’s Council might perform many different tasks. Perhaps the simplest would be to hand to the president "updates" about the issues under its purview, letting the president know what has been happening scientifically, legally, or in public debates. More to the point for an expert body, the Council might assess for the president the quality and significance of these developments. Like the National Academies of Science, it might give the president "expert" scientific advice—advice that is typically peer reviewed. As an "ethics" council, presumably it could generate expert advice about moral reasoning with respect to the issues it takes up— although it could see itself as engaged in creating scientific reports as well. Following out the model of science, however, any "expert" ethical advice would presumably require professional peer review. Still another task for the Council would be to present the president with legal or policy recommendations about what steps to take on these controversial issues. If it were to undertake this last task, the Council would function more like a political body but in an advisory role. As it approaches each of these tasks, the Council might— or might not—believe consensus is important. If so, it would need to confront questions about consensus. What must the consensus be about? The identification of issues? The conclusions? Or the reasoning structures used to reach these conclusions? (Multi-judge courts, after all, can reach consensus on the result in a case without agreeing on the reasoning used to reach it.) Who are the necessary parties to the consensus? For example, if the Council were presenting the president with expert scientific advice, perhaps the relevant consensus would be drawn from the scientific community—and not from the political community more broadly, which includes evolutionists and creationists alike. But if the Council were presenting the president with policy recommendations, something more like a democratic consensus might be most relevant. And why does consensus matter in the first place? Is it because consensus reveals that shared views are widespread across society? Because disagreement or backlash is less likely if a recommendation can be viewed as a consensus? Because consensus demonstrates that a decision resulted from a careful democratic procedure? Or because consensus suggests that the recommendations are true?
How the Council Viewed Its Task—Part One In drafting Monitoring Stem Cell Research, the Council deliberately and specifically avoided making policy recommendations. It took itself instead to be attempting to reach consensus about the current state of the issues regarding such research. In my judgment, however, the Council’s deliberations and report reveal deep complexities—and perhaps as deep confusion—about the Council’s understanding of its function. These conflicts about the Council’s task also surfaced in the session devoted to the Council’s work at the recent (fall 2004) meeting of the American Society for Bioethics and Humanities (ASBH), a session that generated rather more heat and perhaps less light in my judgment. The Council’s letter of transmittal to the president reported that it had consulted experts on "all aspects" of the research. Based on this consultation, the Council averred that it had tried to "present the arguments and counter-arguments, faithfully and accurately." The Council expressed the hope that it had demonstrated how "people of different backgrounds, ethical beliefs, and policy preferences can reason together" about stem cell research. In Monitoring Stem Cell Research, the report itself, the Council describes its members as trying to set personal moral views aside. It emphasized that it was eschewing policy recommendations—although it did make recommendations about federal policy at the present time. In Monitoring, the Council addressed several issues about stem cell research, outlining the arguments from the background papers and from other discussions. The Council saw itself as principally addressing this question: "How can stem cell research be maximally supported without encouraging the destruction of nascent human life for research purposes?" It achieved consensus on two points, that research involving embryos over fourteen days old should be prohibited and that federal funding should continue to be limited to research on lines from already-harvested stem cells without the further destruction of embryos to provide new cell lines. Finally, at the conclusion of the report, Council members express the importance to them of achieving consensus on all aspects of the report— although not necessarily on the justifications for it. There is yet further evidence that the Council believes that achieving consensus is an important task for it. In its posted mission statement, the Council rejects naïve moral relativism. For a body interested in ethical justification, consensus might be regarded as an alternative stance. Metaethical moral realists, to be sure, may reject consensus in favor of a "right" answer, such as that found in natural law— and there may be as many as five members of the Council who are natural law theorists (George, Gómez-Lobo, and perhaps Glendon, Kass, and Meilaender). Nonetheless, consensus might appear as a metaethical alternative. In their meeting in 2004 devoted to selecting topics for the president’s next term—to take a further example of the Council’s commitment to consensus—members of the Council sought topics on which there was likely to be agreement, and shied away from topics on which disagreement was likely, such as abortion, or topics on which they lacked expertise, such as justice in health policy more generally. At the ASBH session devoted to the Monitoring report, the Council chair, Leon Kass, pointed out that the report reflected a consensus—and that the Council was more representative than President Clinton’s NBAC had been, in terms of political affiliation. The Representativeness of the Council If the Council believes that consensus among its members is important, we might want to know something about levels of diversity on the Council. After all, the fact that consensus exists is only interesting insofar as it results from drawing together what might otherwise have been difference. Consensus that is merely agreement among those who already agree is uninteresting as consensus—if indeed it can be called an "achieved" consensus—although it might be useful to know that people already agreed on the matter in question. At the ASBH session on Monitoring, the Council’s chair, Leon Kass, defended its representativeness with respect to partisan political affiliation. It does not take long, however, to observe that the Council is not very representative in many other respects that might be equally important to the significance of the consensus it achieved. The following data are drawn from the Council’s website, from the respective websites of current Council members, and from the websites of professional organizations. Currently, there are eighteen members of the Council. All but one (Charles Krauthammer, a journalist trained as a psychiatrist) hold academic appointments—a fact that might lead others to question the Council’s representativeness. Of these, exactly one (Gómez-Lobo) is trained in philosophy (in Germany, at Tubingen), a member of a philosophy department and of the APA. Two members (Dresser and Glendon) are law professors. Six (Fukuyama, George, Lawlor, Sandel, Schaub, and Wilson) have training in political science or political theory/ philosophy, a particularly interesting finding in light of what we will see was the paucity of discussion of political philosophy in the Council’s deliberations or in the Monitoring report. One (Meilaender) is trained in Christian ethics. The remaining seven Council members are scientists or physicians, presumably to ensure adequate scientific understanding among Council members; counting Krauthammer, eight of the Council members have scientific or medical training. If bioethics is of special relevance to the Council, no members have specific training in that discipline. Only one member of the Council (Dresser) is a member of the American Society for Bioethics and Humanities. Two other Council members (Kass and Meilaender) have had longstanding associations with the field of bioethics. The academic institutions represented on the Council are an unusual mix. Only two Council members (Foster and Wilson) teach at a public university (Texas Southwestern and UCLA). The other Council members teach at private or religious institutions. The private institutions represented are Chicago (Kass and Rowley), Dartmouth (Gazzaniga), Harvard (Glendon and Sandel), Johns Hopkins (Carson, Fukuyama, and McHugh), Princeton (George), Stanford (Hurlbut), and Washington University (Dresser)—all institutions that might be regarded as "elite." The religiously-affiliated institutions represented are Berry College (interdenominational Christian) (Lawlor), Georgetown University (Catholic) (Gómez-Lobo), Loyola Maryland (Catholic) (Schaub), and Valparaiso (Lutheran) (Meilaender). States represented on the Council are California (2), Georgia (1), Indiana (1), Illinois (1), Maryland (4), Massachusetts (2), Missouri (1), New Hampshire (1), New Jersey (1), Texas (1), and Washington, D.C. (3, counting Kass and Krauthammer’s current affiliations as D.C.). Outside of Chicago, St. Louis, Stanford, and UCLA, only one member of the Council hails from beyond the eastern seaboard (Foster, at Texas Southwestern). One member of the Council (Carson) is African American and four (22%) are women. I could not ascertain political affiliations of Council members from information publicly available on the web; thus, I cannot verify Kass’s contention that they are politically diverse. I would note that several have associations with organizations recognized as conservative, such as Kass with the American Enterprise Institute and George with the Federalist Society. Quite a number—five, by my count—have interests in natural law theory, an approach to political theory associated with Leon Strauss. By contrast, one (Sandel) is a critic of Rawls, but none would appear roughly Rawlsian in persuasion. Thus, at least five (the Straussians) would appear to have conservative allegiances in political theory, and none would appear to have sympathies with one of the best known liberal political theorists (Rawls) of recent times. Thus the Council would appear not to be ver y representative on grounds of race, sex, class, or geographic distribution. It is highly skewed towards elite private and religious institutions. And it has limited expertise in its core fields of bioethics, ethics, philosophy, or health law; and no expertise at all in health policy. Does this matter? IF the role of the Council is to achieve consensus amid divergence, it might, depending on the type of consensus sought. IF, however, the Council is to be viewed on the model of other expert bodies, perhaps diversity doesn’t matter, but expertise does; there is no effort, for example, to have the Institute of Medicine be "representative" in the political sense in contrast to the sense of calling on the relevant expertise in developing reports. Unfortunately, the Council is limited in the variety of its expertise as well. Types of Consensus What kind of consensus were members of the Council seeking in the Monitoring report, and what kind matters? One account of the Council’s consensus is that the consensus in the report gave the president a description of where agreement in fact exists in society. This descriptive task might be particularly important for decisions about federal funding, if we think that federal funding should track public agreement—a view we do not hold for scientific research but might for issues such as funding of abortion where there is deep disagreement. The Council, however, does not contain the kind of expertise such as political scientists who do empirical work that might equip them to develop such reports. Nor did it see itself as representing a kind of popular consensus—if indeed a group with the Council’s makeup could be regarded as any sort of cross-section of viewpoints in the United States. A different account of the Council’s role is that it attempted to achieve consensus through difference. This seems to be what both Leon Kass and the Council itself thought. On this view, the Council might provide the president with a justification for certain policies—those policies on which consensus has been achieved. The Rawlsian distinction between a modus vivendi and an "overlapping consensus" is helpful in exploring whether the consensus the Council might try to achieve can be regarded as a justification for the views on which it achieves consensus. A modus vivendi is a mere agreement that allows people with different comprehensive ethical views to continue to function together politically. It provides no deeper justification than the fact of agreement. As I have already indicated, the Council does not have (and does not pretend to have) the kind of expertise that would allow it to report the presence of a modus vivendi across the larger society. And there are certainly questions about whether it contains the kind of representativeness that would enable it to put forth consensus among Council members as a modus vivendi of any broad scope. An "overlapping consensus" in the Rawlsian sense is a justification that all reasonable citizens in a democratic society can accept, whatever their comprehensive theories of the good. Understanding whether or not there is an overlapping consensus in any respect is a philosophical enterprise. It requires examining the kinds of justifications that can be offered for positions and whether they are shared among reasonable comprehensive views. It also requires examining where justifications are not shared as a matter of public reason— but instead derive only from the comprehensive views in which they are embedded. The consensus of the stem cell report, by its own characterization, is a modus vivendi; Council members indicate in their discussion at the conclusion of the report that their most important goal was achieving consensus rather than exploring the justifications that might support consensus and how they might do so.
How the Council Viewed Its Task, Part Two—What the Council Did Not But Should Have Done As an expert body, the Council could have attempted to provide expertise about moral argument. On this view, the Council might have at least analyzed for the president where there is the basis for an overlapping consensus, and where moral disagreements result from different comprehensive views. The Council might have attempted to unearth the assumptions made by and the arguments made for different positions in areas of moral controversy, such as stem cell research. The Council’s role would have been to present the most careful and balanced accounts of the moral arguments in the debate, including where the arguments can be made as a matter of public reason. This admittedly was not the model followed by the current Council, as is apparent in both the background papers and the Monitoring report itself. The Background Papers In developing Monitoring, the Council commissioned background papers in both science and ethical theory. There were eight background reports in all, five on aspects of the science of stem cell research, one on state law governing the research, one on the meaning of federal funding, and one on ethical issues. The legal background paper was by Lori Andrews (at Chicago–Kent), perhaps the best known legal expert in the area, and presented a comprehensive survey of state law governing stem cell research, proposed state statutes, and likely constitutional challenges. The paper on the meaning of federal funding, by Peter Berkowitz (from George Mason Law School and Stanford’s Hoover Institution), argues that there is no right to federal funding, that those who would like to see changes in federal policy should seek them through the political process, and that stem cell research is no exception in these regards. It does not, however, present a careful or rigorous analysis of the significance of moral disagreement to political justification, other than advancing the author’s own position that changes should be sought through the political process. The ethics paper was by Paul Lauritzen (professor of religious studies at John Carroll University). In the paper, Lauritzen contends that the stem cell debate has been too narrowly focused on the moral status of the embryo (to which, by the way, he does not object). Instead, he suggests, the debate should focus on the issues raised by the technology of stem cell research generally: commodification of human tissue, justice in access to the results of research, and reunderstanding what it means to be human. Lauritzen’s view is that both proponents and opponents of stem cell research must take seriously the trajector y of human life and the potential problems involved in extending the human life span. The paper is a summary of the arguments about what it means to be human and is not particularly philosophically deep. As a part of its proceedings, the Council also discussed a paper by Gene Outka, professor of religious studies and philosophy at Yale, exploring whether the "nothing more is lost" principle permits the killing of innocents who would otherwise be sacrificed in any event and can justify the use of embryos for stem cell research. The "nothing more is lost" principle, as Outka understands it, allows use of the fruits of immoral activity if nothing more is to be lost. The Council’s discussion was highly critical of the paper’s analysis of the principle’s breadth. These papers, and discussions of them, represent the entire background in moral philosophy presented to the Council, at least as a matter open to public observation and discussion. How the Questions Were Framed in Monitoring In Monitoring, the Council started with the assumption that embryos ought not to be destroyed for research purposes. It then asked when it is permissible to use the fruits of what will not be brought into existence. Three conditions of permissibility are identified: there must not have been cooperation in the destruction, destruction must not be abetted, and the act of using what has been destroyed must affirm the principle previously violated. In the judgment of the report, government funding expresses support for a policy and thus is problematic if it can be regarded as in violation of one of these conditions. Hence the Council concludes that the Bush administration boundar y of permitting federal funding for research with already-created stem cell lines finds ethical support. In reaching this conclusion, the Council analogized this limit to other restrictions on research with human subjects, contending that we set many moral limits on human subject research, and this one is no more problematic than the others. The report stopped short, however, of exploring the nature of support for the analogy. In framing the discussion in this way, the Council accepted as a given that there is no middle ground between those who find the destruction of embryos abhorrent and those who do not (39). But it fails to explore the nature of the arguments for these views, and, hence, either the extent to which they can be part of an overlapping consensus or the significance of making public policy in the face of contending comprehensive views. In fairness, Monitoring does observe that this may be a problem, writing that some have criticized contemporary discussions for failing to pay attention to the appropriate process of policy development. But the report goes no further in considering different accounts of or justifications for this process. The report took this structure as a given. Most troubling, in my judgment, is that it failed to scrutinize the arguments that have been given for framing the problem in this way. Although the Council canvassed various views about the biological features of the embryo that some have found to make a moral difference, it did so in the descriptive manner of an introduction to a (bad) applied ethics text book. It simply lists the points people have made on one side or the other, without doing the work to explore the arguments underlying them. Readers of the report, therefore, are left without any sense of the ethical foundations of different positions in the debate or any tools that might be used to assess them. Thus the reader cannot, based on the report, judge whether a position about stem cell research is—or is not—part of an overlapping consensus based in public reason. Far from contributing to an assessment of the kinds of arguments that should inform public reason, the Council simply assumed that existing arguments must remain entrenched. In so doing, it deepened rather than enlightened the character of our public discussion. Enlightening the character of public debate, by contrast, was the model for the first President’s Commission, the one from the years of the Carter Presidency. That first Commission provided genuine contributions to bioethics—many still classics today—from people trained in philosophy, economics, law, and other related fields. Unfortunately, the current Council apparently does not see its role in this way.