ABSTRACT
In the last decades, debates on genomics2 and advanced medical technologies have led to heated controversies throughout the Western world. Technologies such as embryonic stem cell (ESC) research and human cloning have instigated prolonged public debates in which sharp societal antagonisms and the fragility of the societal consensus on ‘core values’ have become visible. In most Western countries, an increasing number of experts from both the life sciences and the social sciences have started to discuss the ethical permissibility, the limits, and the potential benefits of these new research strategies. Many experts diagnose a certain kind of ‘gut feeling’ prevalent in many Western countries that there is something ‘wrong’ with these medical technologies, where they are perceived as being likely to change the meaning and the boundaries of our understanding of life. For example, Leon Kass, the former chairman of the US President’s Council on Bioethics, regards ‘revulsion’ as ‘the emotional expression of deep wisdom, beyond reason’s power fully to articulate it’ (Kass 1997). In many places it is perceived to be the task of governments to ‘protect’ individuals and individual rights (such as the ‘rights’ of the embryo, the rights of the motherto-be, etc.) or societies from the dangers that are deemed to be inherent in these research strategies and new technologies. The Israeli bioethics discourse stands in sharp contrast to bioethical dis-
courses in other Western countries in two ways. First, by operating with the same terms (such as ‘human dignity’, ‘sanctity of life’, etc.) but often arriving at different conclusions, it threatens to unveil the particular Christian notion of the way supposedly ‘secular’ terms are used in bioethical debates in large parts of the Western world. Second, Israel’s permissive approach towards genomics and advanced medical technologies in general seems to contradict the existence of a general ‘gut feeling’ that there is something wrong with research in fields such as ESC and human cloning. Some of the most emotionalised issues in other Western countries are simply not regarded as controversial in Israel, where the regulation of new
medical technologies has never caused any large public debates. What often follows is the assumption of the absence of a moral debate on medical research and technologies in Israel, or of the existence of an ‘immoral’ bioethics discourse. My argument will be that this is not the case, but that the Israeli discourse is based on the discursive creation of a particular risk setting, as well as on a particular understanding of risk with regard to the regulation of genomics. This context of risk situates the unhindered advancement of medical research and technologies, as well as their use, in the context of a ‘natural’ process to grant the continuity of the collective. In order to understand the microphysics of power inherent in those risk settings, we need to turn our attention towards a field which is sometimes neglected by social science work on genomics: we need to look at politics.
In May 2001, the Prime Minister of the German Land of North RhineWestphalia, Wolfgang Clement, travelled to Israel to explore the possibilities of a potential future collaboration between the University of Bonn and the University of Haifa in embryonic stem cell research. What he had in mind was the importation of human ESC lines from Israel to Germany, because whereas Germany’s Embryonenschutzgesetz (Embryo Protection Law) prohibits harvesting ESC in Germany, it does not entail any regulations with regard to the importation of ESC lines. Clement’s endeavour did not only result in harsh criticism from the Christian churches but also from within his own Social Democratic party, as well as from large parts of the German public. The German weekly Die Zeit called the negotiations between Clement and the researchers in Haifa an ‘explosive deal’3 (Bahnsen 2001), and the Christian Democratic Party found Clement’s conduct ‘egregious’ (Spiegel online 2001). How could Israel, the Germans wondered, a nation which has experienced the traumatising effects of inhuman conduct, of atrocious persecution and mass murder, be capable of ‘disregarding human dignity’ by allowing almost unrestricted research on human embryos (see Schnabel 2001)? After all, as (the then) German President Johannes Rau phrased it, ‘[i]f we deem something to be unethical, it is because it is unethical and immoral always and everywhere. With regard to fundamental ethical questions, there is no geography of the permitted and the prohibited’ (Rau 2001). Israeli journalist Tamara Traubman joined the debate about the morality or immorality of Israeli bioethics with the question: ‘So today the Germans are the moral ones and we’re the Nazis?’ (Traubman 2004). Were the German media portrayals correctly conveying the message that
there are many ‘immoral’ practices going on in Israel? Not only with regard to ESC research, but also concerning genetic testing and human cloning, Israel has one of the most permissive legal frameworks of all countries regulating its biotechnology. The main difference, though, lies at the level of discourse. It is precisely the public and semi-public discourses preceding
and surrounding the regulation of genomics which are marked by a very positive attitude towards research and technologies that are extremely controversial in other parts of the world. Why do Israelis seem to embrace these newly emerging medical technologies, whereas they give people the shivers in other parts of the world? Why does the Israeli bioethics discourse differ so significantly from bioethics discourses elsewhere?
