Dignity and the Environment
By Jonathan Boston
The concept of dignity is often thought to be restricted to humanity. Only human beings, some believe, possess true or genuine dignity. Theologically, this is because human beings are distinctive, indeed unique, within the created order. Only human beings bear the special mark of their Maker; only they are bearers of God's image or likeness (Gen 1:27). Hence, amongst all God's creatures, only human beings enjoy a deep, transcendent and intrinsic worth: they alone are sacred; they alone possess inherent and inalienable rights; they alone are ends in themselves rather than means; and they alone share an abiding dignity in equal measure. All other species, it is argued, are different. They lack any God-given dignity. So, too, does the non-living or physical environment – whether here on Earth or elsewhere in the universe.
But is this argument theologically and morally justified? Is not the whole creation, in all its extraordinary diversity, richness, vastness and beauty, endowed with dignity by God?
There are, of course, robust theological reasons for claiming that human beings enjoy a unique, particular or special dignity – indeed, an 'infinite dignity'.1 As bearers of God's image, humanity can claim a distinctive and elevated moral status in relation to the rest of creation. A person is more precious than other creatures. Accordingly, we need stronger justifications for harming a human being than we do for harming non-human species.
But an equally strong theological case can be made that every part of creation – every aspect of the entire universe, no matter how little or large – possesses a certain God-given dignity; it thus has some inherent or intrinsic value. That is to say, all non-human species and physical objects are of value in themselves and for their own sake; they are not merely of instrumental or extrinsic value. To quote Saint John Paul II:
Respect for life and for the dignity of the human person also extends to the rest of creation which is called to join man in praising God (Ps 148:96).2
Likewise, Pope Francis in Laudato Si, speaks of the 'intrinsic dignity of the world',3 and appeals to every person to respect and care for all God's creatures and humanity's 'common home'.
The theological basis for the proposition that the non-human world enjoys an inherent dignity lies, fundamentally, in the claim that God is ultimately the creator of everything that exists and that God values, and rejoices in, every aspect of the creation. Every part of it has worth; every part deserves respect. For everything that God has made, according to Genesis, is 'good'.
That does not mean, of course, that everything is of equal value, let alone infinitely precious. Nor does it imply that any form of human interference with the natural or physical environment is unjustified. But it strongly suggests the need for wise, responsible and sustainable management of the environment.
When people degrade and defile what God has made or cause irreversible damage, they violate their distinctive calling to exercise stewardship and guardianship. Moreover, in bringing destruction, rather than healing, they threaten their own dignity. In part, this simply reflects the fact that everything is interconnected and interdependent. Despoiling the environment destroys the ecosystem services and resources on which humanity depends. It thus reduces the capacity of human beings to meet their needs and ultimately robs them of their dignity. Human flourishing in a devastated wasteland is a contradiction in terms, as is living well in an ecological desert.
Taking the intrinsic dignity of the environment seriously requires urgent and systematic reform. Currently, human greed, poor planning, inadequate regulation and irresponsible economic policies are contributing to enormous ecological damage. Globally, we are exceeding critical planetary boundaries and time is running out to rectify the problem.4 We are already in the early stages of a mass extinction event, one in which a substantial proportion of all this planet's species will be destroyed. We are also rapidly warming the Earth through the unregulated burning of fossil fuels and massive deforestation. Not only will this bring dramatic changes to the planet's climate, but it will also contribute to severe, widespread and, in many cases, irreversible damage to critical biophysical systems.
Nationally, our water quality is deteriorating, our carbon footprint is growing, our land-use management and marine governance are weak, and many native species face extinction. Since human settlement about 800 years ago, we have lost 85% of our indigenous forests, over 90% of our wetlands, and more than 50 bird species. We have significantly polluted more than half of our rivers and many of our lakes, and we are losing soil at about 10 times the average global rate. Hence, claims that New Zealand is 'clean and green' lack substance.
In summary, humanity is currently suffering a chronic 'nature deficit disorder'. Our ecological footprints are far too large. We are borrowing from the future and leaving our children and grandchildren a dreadful legacy – a huge, unsustainable ecological debt and colossal, irreparable damage. As Pope Francis puts it:
We have come to see ourselves as ... [nature's] lords and masters, entitled to plunder her at will. The violence present in our hearts, wounded by sin, is also reflected in the symptoms of sickness evident in the soil, in the water, in the air and in all forms of life. This is why the earth herself, burdened and laid waste, is among the most abandoned and maltreated of our poor; she "groans in travail" (Rom 8:22).5
God calls us to show kindness to His good creation, to treasure its diversity, to care tenderly for its creatures, to tread gently upon the land, and to be good stewards of its resources. Indeed, we are summoned to love what God has made, just as God loves and cares for it. In so doing we both protect its intrinsic dignity and honour our calling as creatures who bear God's image.
Jonathan Boston is Professor of Public Policy at Victoria University of Wellington.
Endnotes
1. Pope John Paul II, Angelus in Osnabrück (Germany) with the disabled, 16 November 1980: Insegnamenti 3/2 (1980), 1232.
2. Pope John Paul II, 'Peace with God the Creator, Peace with All of Creation', For the celebration of the World Day of Peace, 1 January 1990.
3. Pope Francis, Encyclical Letter: Laudato Si' – On Care For Our Common Home, Rome, 2015, p.86.
4. See, for instance, Johan Rockström, et al., "A Safe Operating Space for Humanity', Nature, 461, 24 September 2009, 472-475; John Rockström, et al., "Planetary Boundaries: Exploring the Safe Operating Space for Humanity", Ecology and Society, 14, 2.
5. Pope Francis, Encyclical Letter: Laudato Si' – On Care For Our Common Home, Rome, 2015, p.3.
Culture, Human Dignity and Economic Rationalisation
By Gerard Burns
Cultural understandings of human dignity are culturally generated expressions of the perceived worth of human life at different ages and stages – they witness to the way persons are valued, honoured, esteemed and respected. While every culture has its own ideas and practices surrounding human dignity, the way that this dignity/worth is recognized varies from culture to culture and also undergoes change. The practices by which worth is recognized (or denied) reveal the culture’s values and beliefs about human life. This anthropological approach, starting as it does from observation differs from the philosophical approach of official Catholic teaching which brings a trans-cultural and meta-physical dimension to the discussion.
A simple definition of culture is to see it as the sum of the ideas, customs and social behaviour of a particular people or society. It includes morals, codes, traditions, dress, language and religion. Two simple examples from my own early years (Pakeha Irish-Catholic and middle-class, growing up in NZ in the 1960s) around the teaching of 'good manners' are illustrative.
The first example is the instruction: 'Don't eat with your mouth open because it’s impolite'. Here 'impolite' seems to mean it is insulting and ungraceful to show how you chew food. Perhaps implied is that eating is a semi-private or personal activity? Practically speaking, this instruction helps avoid food falling out of your mouth when eating. That would be wasteful of the food, inelegant in terms of tidiness and potentially mess-making on clothes, tables or floors. The values of respect for others and for oneself are to the fore.
A second example: We were told by our Catholic school teachers that when the priest or any adult came into the class, we were to stand up. This was a way of recognizing the presence of an important person. Standing up recognized the adult’s superior status and 'dignity'. Wrapped in this are certain cultural and hierarchical values, namely the value of the adult over the child. In the Catholic world the priest had a theologically superior status of a 'holy' man. If the priest was not ‘holy’ by behaviour then he was holy because he dealt with 'holy' things. Respect and dignity were ascribed not simply because of the priest’s personal qualities, but because of his role.
Hierarchies appear in all cultures and societies. In some Pacific cultures, one way of recognizing you are in the presence of 'more important' people (for example, chiefs) is to keep one's head below the level of the chiefly person. So you will see people bending over as they pass the chief to symbolically recognize their relative status. In Anglo-Saxon tradition the curtsy or bow before a royal personage served a similar role.
Value or worth can be intrinsic (such as simply by being born into a royal line), or gained through achievement (such as in battle or through academic qualification). In many traditional societies one's worth grows as one ages. The older person is seen as a source of wisdom and an asset even if requiring more assistance from family and neighbours. The honouring of kaumatua in the Māori world exemplifies this.
Are there universal values/practices which go beyond cultural variations? Anthropologists have looked for common practices in human behaviour but have not seen a common ethic. Such an ethic needs reflection on the commonalities and on the philosophical question of what is good for human beings. Hans Kung's work on a global ethic is part of that search.
One significant factor flowing from particular cultures but influencing world culture is what Pope Francis (among others) has outlined in ‘Laudato Si’: the 'technocratic paradigm' (LS.106) that has brought damage to the earth and its people. This worldview combines the influences of modern technology and industrial capitalism to shape social and economic practice.
Max Weber analysed this paradigm to some extent in his book the “Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism’ (1930). In ascribing the foundations of modern society to Puritanism he underestimated other factors. Nevertheless, it is true that the mind-set behind the economic and technological development in Europe and North America was significantly influenced by the religiously-inspired exploration of the mind of God by Copernicus, Mendel, Newton and others.
Gradually this exploration sought to distance itself more from religious belief (secularisation) and the idea of ethical constraints on new technology lessened. The classical economics of Adam Smith and David Ricardo, along with utilitarian philosophies, has gradually brought theories of marginal utility and the model of 'homo economicus' to the fore.
This model saw ‘rational behaviour’ as that of a ‘man’ carefully calculating what will bring increased profitability to himself. It is a model based on individualism and self-interest. Smith proposed that if every actor worked on this self-interested basis then all of society would benefit as if moved by an 'invisible hand'.
In practice, this approach, especially its more recent form of neoliberalism (Reagonomics, Rogernomics, the ‘Washington Consensus’) has been largely discredited by the Global Financial Crisis. However it is still the basis for much contemporary macroeconomic practice (for example, stock markets, etc). The pragmatism of this paradigm increasingly influences views about who and what is useful to society.
One consequence of this is a cultural shift in the perception of ‘worth’. Where in many traditional societies to be old was to be valuable, in fast-moving, mobile and pressured technological societies, what is valued is the capacity to handle the latest technology. This favours the young and quick-adapters.
However, with the favouring of the young and the quick, comes a devaluing of the old and the sick. Hence a push for euthanasia for 'humane' reasons, and individuals not wanting to be a burden on society or their families. The economic aspect of culture can shape more general values. The defence of human dignity in a Catholic sense relies on a philosophy (shaped by the doctrines of incarnation and redemption) that explains the broad basis for what is good for individuals and our societies.
Gerard Burns is a priest of the Archdiocese of Wellington, currently Vicar-General and working in Māori pastoral care. He has lived and worked in South America and has a Master in International Relations from Victoria University.
Art, Dignity and the Human Spirit
By Rachel Kleinsman
In the words of John Ruskin, art is an “expression of the vitality, inventiveness, heart, thought and spirit of humanity”. Art has the potential to offer insight into the human condition and exists as a cultural repository for the expression of our spirit and spirituality. It provides a means of connecting us with the oneness of the human experience.
The rich and varied tapestry of art history reveals a number of approaches to the expression and validation of human dignity. The Cambridge dictionary’s definition of dignity as: “the importance and value that a person has” offers a basic, albeit interesting starting point from which to consider that which characterises the relationship between dignity and art.
The great Abstract Expressionist Mark Rothko proposes a useful framework for navigating this relationship. In 1958, Rothko gave a lecture to New York’s Pratt Institute during which he identified a number of ingredients as collectively comprising the “recipe of a work of art”. One of these proposed criteria was that in art “there must be a clear preoccupation with death – intimations of mortality”.
Depictions of the dead have long been considered a fitting way of honouring the lives of individuals and affirming the enduring dignity of humanity after death. Renaissance art, in particular, facilitates an intriguing dialogue. Piero della Francesco, for example, painted the diptych portrait of Federico da Montefeltro and Battista Sforza after Battista’s death, her corpse serving as a life-model for the portrait (a point which seems evident in her pallor). In this vein, the Victorian tradition of post-mortem photography is also of note, combining photographs of deceased loved-ones with such memento as locks of hair and flowers. Similarly, John Everett Millais’ magnificent Ophelia painting of the body of this Shakespearean tragic heroine being carried down the river compels the viewer to confront the wrenching tragedy of her suicide and lost love, and the deepest questions of our human experience.
In exploring the relationship between art and human dignity, there is a certain tension which goes to the heart of the philosophical debate: What is art and what, if any, purpose should it serve? Is expression in and of itself the end goal, or is the artist obligated to contribute to a more complex framework of social responsibility?
On the one hand, the idea that art is valuable in its very own essence – l’art pour l’art – is compelling. The Kantian invocation that we should “act so as to treat people always as ends in themselves, never as mere means”, might lead one to think that art should serve no purpose other than to honour the individual through representation. However, historically, art has been an incredibly vital socio-political tool, one of protest and revolution, which has sought to affirm the dignity of underprivileged individuals. Eugene Delacroix’s Liberty Leading the People was a vital revolutionary voice in France and Gustave Courbet’s Stone Breakers, a protest against poverty and cry for the rights of the peasant class. Centuries later, Judy Chicago’s Dinner Party gave a voice to the previously-silenced cultural accomplishments of women. In terms of our own national identity, Ralph Hotere’s oeuvre comprises a politically-complex colonial protest defending the dignity and rights of Māori. There is no doubt that art’s role in ‘dignifying’ those of lesser privilege is significant.
In light of the above, it’s clear that artists have a role to play in crafting a broader social narrative which both affords and shapes human dignity – their role is not merely a documentary one. But there is a potentially problematic aspect to this representation also. The photographs taken by psychiatrist Hugh Welch Diamond of patients at the Surrey County Lunatic Asylum in the 19th century are one such example. These extant records of mentally-ill patients are valuable in that they capture something essential of their lives and spirits while affording a real sense of dignity and individuality. However, because they were taken with the intention of contributing to the physiognomy argument, they were ultimately damaging to both perceptions of these individuals and mental illness on the whole. A further example is the problematic nature of colonial depictions of kaumātua by Gottfried Lindauer and Charles Goldie; resplendent in their beauty and historic significance, the portrayal of Māori as a dying race through an overtly colonial lens is well-documented.
The essence of the relationship between human dignity and art is one of dualistic tension. It is incorrect to reduce art’s role in the expression of humanity to a purely utilitarian function. On the other hand, in order to be effective and afford respect to individuals it must “treat people always as ends in themselves”. The greatness of art through the centuries has the power to move us, to facilitate a spiritual connection and emotional response. Most importantly, it resonates with another criterion of note which Rothko laid forth in his consideration of art and life: that religious and divinely-eternal notion of hope, the ability of art to uphold human dignity through its power, properly used, to “make the tragic concept more endurable”.
Rachel Kleinsman is a freelance art researcher and writer based in Wellington. She has a Bachelor of Arts (Art History and Modern Languages, Victoria University of Wellington) and a Master of Arts (Art Business, Sotheby’s Institute of Art).
Dignity in a Digital World
By Colin MacLeod
I love digital technology! I love being able to read e-mails from a smart-watch, connected to my phone via bluetooth while watching a movie because the same phone is pushing video and sound from the internet to my TV through a dongle in its USB port. As a teacher I love the accessibility of information, the ability to collaborate and create, and the simple, practical ease of retrieving files and storing work electronically. What’s not to love about technology?
But it’s not really about the technology. The best and worst of human behaviour is played out in the electronic realm. People can be friended or un-friended with a click of an icon on a screen. We can post words of comfort and support or vitriolic rhetoric to persons whose faces we will never see. We can donate money immediately to those in need on the other side of the world and not know our neighbours’ names. We can share photos which celebrate humanity with millions and find images no family would ever want in their albums. We can maintain relationships with ease across the whole world, and be utterly alone while doing so. And all the while a new ‘normal’ and relentless ‘change’ unfold to tell us who we are and who we are not, impacting on human dignity in positive and negative ways.
There is a dignity in parenting that seems lost at the sight of a parent pushing a pram with a child inside chattering and pointing, while continuously gazing at a phone. There is dignity in the profound beauty of the human form, and the desire within us to connect with one another, that is utterly broken by addiction to pornography and associated fear of real human contact. Dignity is found in defining our identity, as we grow up through challenges, failures and successes, but it can easily be actively crushed by children who bully someone into becoming suicidal through social media. The dignity of family itself is undermined when a home no longer has a family table because all meals are eaten by individuals in their own spaces with their heads in their own devices. And, at a global level, even the dignity of our planet is at risk through the mountains of scrap dumped by yesterday’s devices and tomorrow’s BYOD.
I read an article some 30 years ago which reflected on the possibility of machines becoming sentient. While I’ve forgotten most of the content, one idea from the reading has always remained and challenged me. “What happens when a machine can choose its favourite colour? Not because of programming, but because of personal choice. Will it then have a soul?”
It challenges me because, in the 80s, the question felt more of a mental exercise in theology, or science fiction, than an actual possibility but, as the years have progressed, the concept looms likely. From Apple to Zuckerberg we are surrounded (and perhaps swamped) by machines and electronic information. Always more, better, smarter. Literally exponential growth as reflected in Moore’s Law.
So far, none of this technology comes close to sentience, despite predictions. Technology does not care about us. It does not reflect on its purpose. It does not love us back and it neither respects nor understands human dignity. Technology cannot choose to serve humanity - it is created by human beings and marketed in ways and forms designed to impact on our lives and generate profits. Unfortunately, it seems that the latter is the driving force of the digital age, and economic forces rarely place human dignity ahead of profit – the rise in job-loss through technology replacing people is an obvious example of this.
Rather, we are the ones made in the image of God. It is our decisions that are changing the world, not technology. We create, choose and use intentionally. My mother-in-law was incensed to get a letter from an aid agency saying they’d prefer her to set up an automatic payment for her $12 per year donation because it would save money on postage and processing. Reasonable enough, I thought. “Do they mean to say that even our giving now has to be thoughtless!” was her reply, in a long, hand-written letter to the organisation. (The extra $2 was always intended to pay for the processing of her $10 donation.) Making thoughtful choices goes to the core of what it means to be human.
A student once asked me what Jesus would do with technology. Would he have time to blog or catch up with Facebook friends? Would he be instagramming? Maybe, but I doubt it would be an obsession for him - he’d still be busy reaching out to real hands, eating physical food, speaking actual words.
You see, we don’t actually live in a digital world, it doesn’t exist. We live in this world, making choices within a myriad of blessings, distractions and challenges. We have dignity because we are made in the image of God, called into relationship with God and each other. And technology is just one of those blessings, distractions and challenges. It’s up to us.
At least until the first machine chooses its favourite colour.
Colin MacLeod is a husband, father and member of Mercy Parish, Dunedin. He recently took on the role of Director of the National Centre for Religious Studies after two decades as DRS at Kavanagh College.
The Dignity and Power of Education [Synopsis Only]
By Anne Tuohy
When the role of education is degraded, the intrinsic value of society and its members can likewise be diminished.
The full article is available by subscription to The Nathaniel Report
Losing and Finding Dad in Dementia
By Julie Guirgis
Dementia can be spiteful and cruel – when I reflect on who my Dad was before, it helps me separate him from the illness.
Article available online at: http://www.eurekastreet.com.au/article.aspx?aeid=49521#.WDSZmeZ961t
Editorial - The Many Faces of Human Dignity
‘Dignity’ is one of those rich terms we encounter often but its precise meaning can be difficult to pin down. Consequently, we find people using the term to justify very different and even opposing behaviours.
As an example, people with differing views about assisted suicide claim equally to be promoting human dignity. The only way of making sense of this is to conclude that many employ the term in a very shallow and broad way. If, for instance, it means nothing more than treating people ‘well’, or treating people with ‘respect’ according to the particular way each of us happens to define that notion, then the concept of dignity provides very little in the way of consistent ethical guidance.
For those wanting to grapple with a deeper and more precise meaning of human dignity, the distinctions between ‘intrinsic’ and ‘extrinsic’ dignity provide a useful way of unpacking the significance of the term as well as the differing moral duties that ensue depending on which understanding one is committed to.
An extrinsic approach ties dignity to the circumstances one finds oneself in, or to the way persons see themselves or are seen by others. According to this understanding dignity can be conferred or taken away, something akin to the clothes people wear; able to be removed, changeable according to fashion and existing in differing states of ‘finery’ conveying a socially constructed ‘judgement’ about the worthiness or non-worthiness of the lives of certain persons or groups of persons. Extrinsic dignity is essentially variable, shaped by the particular stories about human meaning and flourishing that exist at any point in time and thus susceptible to the vagaries of the social matrix of family, culture, society and religious and institutional traditions.
Critically, the understanding of human dignity in a cultural milieu such as ours, with its (over) emphasis on individuality, independence and productivity, takes on a strongly ‘functionalist’ flavour – to be dignified is to be strong, fit, self-reliant, healthy and productive. Conversely, where this approach dominates, it follows that one of the greatest ‘sins’ against human dignity is for a person to become a ‘burden’ to others or society. The increasing hold of the functionalist mind-set within New Zealand society is evidenced by the growing social isolation being experienced by large numbers of elderly in New Zealand – a continuation of the practice, throughout history, of societies marginalising those it perceives as socially unacceptable or unworthy.
By contrast, the United Nations Universal Declaration on Human Rights1 notes that “recognition of the inherent dignity and of the equal and inalienable rights of all members of the human family is the foundation of freedom, justice and peace in the world.” This gives rise to two insights: (i) the claim that dignity is “inherent” or intrinsic and (ii) the critical role this concept plays in upholding human freedom, justice and peace.
What exactly do we mean by saying that dignity is intrinsic? The philosopher Immanuel Kant speaks of the formula of the end in itself: “Act so as to treat people always as ends in themselves, never as mere means.” We ought, in other words, to treat each and every person as having a value that is all their own; we must treat everybody as being valuable in and of themselves no matter what.
According to this approach, human dignity is a quality that inheres in each and every person by virtue of the simple fact that they have a human nature. It demands a scrupulous respect for all human life, whatever the situation or context, and it rails against the instrumental or functional view which reduces the person to being an instrument for various socially determined interests – invariably the interests of the powerful, healthy and well-resourced.
Considering the second insight that arises from the Declaration on Human Rights, John Dickson gets to the very heart of things when he argues that society needs a solid intellectual ground for caring for those who are no longer productive or functional. “Ancient Greece and Rome … had little by way of philosophical reasoning that could guarantee the inherent worth of those lacking rational capacity or social utility. So infanticide was common and social welfare for the aged and dying was virtually non-existent. Christianity changed all of that. It inherited from Judaism a theology of human dignity and a program of social welfare [grounded in the belief] that Christ had died for all, even for the lowly and neglected.”
It is my contention that only the concept of intrinsic human dignity inherited from Judaism and Christianity and enshrined in the United Nations Declaration of Human Rights is ultimately capable of bearing the weight of an inclusive, free, just and caring society. This should make us all extremely alert to the dangers posed by the growing acceptance of an extrinsic understanding of human dignity.
In the light of this threat it is urgent that we seek to defend an intrinsic approach to dignity in the broad court of societal opinion. To that end, this issue offers a number of key ‘witnesses’ who present some of the many faces of such a dignity.
Dr John Kleinsman is director of The Nathaniel Centre
[1] See http://www.un.org/en/universal-declaration-human-rights/, accessed 31 October 2016.
[2] https://publicchristianity.org/library/its-out-with-the-old-as-christian-values-fall-away
The History of Eugenics
By Petrus Simons
Introduction
In the history of ideas, Darwin’s theory of evolution, followed by the development of genetic science, raised interest not only in breeding better performing plants and animals, but also in improving human populations – (eugenics). Proposals to apply eugenics were advocated and implemented in the United States, Canada, Scandinavia, Germany and many other countries. This article provides a thumbnail sketch of the history of eugenics and poses the question whether the idea is dead yet?
What is eugenics?
In 1883 Francis Galton (1822-1911), one of Darwin’s cousins, defined eugenics as: ‘the science of improving the inherited stock of a population, not only by judicious and selective matings, but by all other influences’1.
Eugenics aims at improving whole populations, either positively by breeding those deemed desirable or, negatively, by eliminating those considered undesirable. Proponents may differ as to the criteria that define these categories and the methods to be employed.
The origins of eugenics
Philosophically, positivism (a philosophical system recognizing only that which can be scientifically verified or which is capable of logical or mathematical proof) became an important part of the cultural milieu during the second half of the 19th century. Its focus shifted to facts and science as a means of mastering nature to the detriment of metaphysics. It helped Charles Darwin (1809-1882) to publish his theory of evolution in 1859. He believed that in the competition for food etc. the strongest would survive through natural selection. The traits so favoured would be inherited by subsequent generations. In 1871 Darwin applied his theory to human beings in ‘The Descent of Man’, a work in which he states clearly a key tenet of eugenics: in D. Galton’s words: “successful, clever people will tend to produce good, clever children and, by and large, stupid parents will tend to produce bad stupid children. And if the latter outnumber the former it will be a poor outlook for society”.2
Darwin’s theory stimulated agriculturalists to improve the breeding of plants and animals by the artificial selection of traits they deemed favourable. In due course, they would also draw on the new science of genetics, initiated by Gregor Johann Mendel (1822-1884) through his systematic breeding and cross-breeding of round and wrinkled peas. Mendel’s seminal paper of 1866, however, was ignored and forgotten until it was rediscovered around 1900.
Meanwhile in England, Francis Galton researched the genealogies of important or gifted people, concluding that the human stock could be improved by letting gifted people breed profusely. Statistician Karl Pearson (1857-1936), and at a later stage agriculturalist and statistician R.A. Fisher (1890-1962), both eugenicists, believed that biometric statistics should provide data to test eugenic theories.
Social Darwinism
Herbert Spencer (1820-1903) believed that societies could be improved by a better adaptation of people to their environment, something he termed survival of the fittest. Evolution would, mechanically, get rid of paupers, as long as they were not supported by public charity, because that would only encourage the poor to continue propagating, thereby impeding social progress.
In line with this, eugenicists in England and (especially) in the United States advocated applying negative eugenics by eliminating all those considered to be defective, degenerate, feeble-minded (including intellectually disabled as well as epileptics) or unfit. Put otherwise, they thought that efforts should be made to breed a superior, pure and white ‘Nordic race’.
Charles Davenport (1866-1944), a zoologist, was one of the key figures in the US eugenic movement. Black sums up his views: “Enforcing Mendelian laws along racial lines, allowing the superior to thrive and the unfit to disappear, would create a new superior race”.3
Davenport managed to obtain significant financial support from the Carnegie Institute for the establishment of a “Station for Experimental Evolution” at Cold Spring Harbor in 1904. Attempting to show that eugenics was indeed a proper science, Davenport teamed up with the American Breeders Association (ABA), established in 1903 by the Association of Agricultural Colleges and Experimental Stations, to foster co-operation between animal breeders and seed experts. At Davenport’s insistence the ABA added a Eugenics Committee, which should “devise methods of recording the values of the blood of individuals, families, people, and races”.4
This research involved the accumulation of detailed genealogical records of families from all over the world (to be called pedigrees) and the task for doing this was entrusted to the Eugenics Record Office (ERO). The ERO was financed by Mary Harriman, the widow of a railway magnate. The ERO also sought to identify the most defective and undesirable Americans.5 It led to frantic efforts across the US to identify the latter.
As a result, eugenic ideas came to be accepted and propagated by many. This likely encouraged Davenport and his co-worker Harry H. Laughlin to set up, in 1913, the Eugenic Research Association, which was charged with preparing “legislative and administrative action, and public propagation for the causes of eugenics, raceology and Nordic race supremacy”.6
The same movement, not surprisingly, also permeated the birth control movement through one of its ardent advocates, Margaret Sanger (1879-1966), who also came to be a proponent of negative eugenics, including mass sterilisation of “defectives” and “draconian immigration restrictions”.7
Laws enabling forced compulsory sterilisation came into effect from 1907 on, eventually being passed in 33 states. Many remained in force until the 1980s.
Germany
Davenport’s ideas spread around the world. Indeed, “the Carnegie Institution and the Rockefeller Foundation generously funded German race biology”.8 Adolf Hitler keenly followed what was being written and practised in the United States.
It should be noted that internationally recognised German geneticists favoured eugenics many years before the period of Nazi rule, advancing economic arguments in favour of euthanising all those seen as costly to maintain including invalids, those suffering hereditary diseases, criminals and alcoholics.
The Nazi regime introduced eugenics as “a way of loving neighbour and caring for future generations”.9 The first German law, following legislation in the United States, Switzerland and Scandinavia was promulgated on 14 July 1933:
Whoever is affected by a hereditary disease may be sterilised by means of a surgical intervention, if, on the basis of a medical diagnosis, there is a strong probability that their descendants might suffer grave hereditary bodily or mental diseases.10
A few months later, a second law was passed prohibiting a marriage if one of the couple suffered from a contagious or hereditary disease, was mentally ill, or incompetent to marry, or was under state supervision.
Meanwhile, in December 1935, Heinrich Himmler, head of the SS, initiated a ‘positive’ form of eugenics, to improve the human race. Parents with the right ‘Aryan’ physical and mental characteristics were selected and sent to special institutions. Their offspring received a special education. It is estimated that 92,000 children were so educated.
In October 1939 Hitler authorised the T4 programme, the name deriving from 4 Tiergartenstrasze, the address in Berlin of the organisation charged with euthanising all mentally incurably ill people. This programme ran until August 1942 when Hitler halted it because of growing opposition. At the Nuremberg trials it was estimated that about 60,000 people, aged from 6 to 93, were killed under this programme. Sometimes, old senile people, those impotent and even individuals regarded as a-social were killed. After 1942 the programme continued in the form of starving to death 120,000 people considered to be mentally ill.11
Guillebaud12 notes that the most troubling aspects of the Nazi policies of eugenics and horrendous medical experiments on concentration camp inmates were the underlying beliefs used to justify them. Thus, Hitler wrote in “Mein Kampf” that “to preserve the race, it is necessary to sacrifice the individual”. In 1934 Rudolf Hess affirmed that “national-socialism is nothing but applied biology”. Various German eugenicists of the time employed the phrase “lives not worth living”. The term “racial hygiene” sums up all the ambiguities of these ideas at that time.13
In 1942 the German Institute in Paris published “State and Health” which alludes to an economic need to manage living capital and “the biological body of the German nation” by means of a:
synthesis of biology and economics. As economists and merchants are responsible for material values, it is a must for doctors to co-operate with them to achieve a humane rational economy, since the health of the populace is a prerequisite of economic profit.14 (My translation).
Eugenics in the light of technicism
Eugenics came about because of developments in scientific knowledge, especially biology and genetics. It is thus an example of technicism, broadly understood as the use of technology to resolve issues deemed to interfere with progress, including the existence of persons/groups of people regarded as ‘defective and seen as hindering ‘progress’. Hence, Edwin Black’s choice of the title “War Against the Weak” for his book on the history of eugenics. Because there will always be groups believed to be ‘weak’ and ‘non-productive’, and because technicism has become such a key ideology of our times, eugenics remains a real threat.
In the current age, commentators such as Connelly have identified the advent of modern genetics as ushering in a new era of eugenics they describe as “the privatisation of population control”:
Parents increasingly experience ‘genetic counselling’… as social pressure to have perfect children…In everyday conversation, people ascribe a whole range of behaviors to good or bad genes, faithfully reciting a eugenic catechism without the faintest idea of where it comes from or where it can lead.15
If anything, the advent of powerful means resulting from modern genetics enhances the dangers for all who are considered ‘sub-optimal’. Thus, neo-reactionaries, such as Nick Land, who seek to optimise humankind and its genetic material in order to accelerate the tempo of economic change, express the view that “under digital capitalism the selection of the fittest will be enhanced”.16
In contrast, from a Christian point of view, the strong should use science and technology to better serve the weak rather than eliminate them.
Dr Petrus Simons is a retired economist with a PhD in Philosophy.
Endnotes
- Galton, D. (2001). In our own image; eugenics and the genetic modification of people. Little, Brown and Company, London, 259.
- Ibid., 87.
- Black, E. (2003). War against the weak; eugenics and America’s campaign to create a master race. Four Walls Eight Windows, New York, 36.
- Ibid., 38-39.
- Ibid., 52.
- Ibid., 90.
- Ibid., 127.
- Ibid., 258.
- Guillebaud, J-C. (2001). Le principe d’humanité. Seuil, Paris, 252.
- Ibid., 258
- Ibid., 259.
- Ibid., 261.
- Ibid., 261-262.
- Ibid., 262.
- Connelly, M. (2008). Fatal misconception; the struggle to control world population. The Belknap Press Harvard University Press, Cambridge, Massachusetts, London, 382.
- Balzer, J. (2017). Unterwegs zum <neuen Menschen>. Die Zeit, Hamburg, No. 25, 47.