Films from the Future

by Andrew Maynard

  As she nears completion, Ruth’s guilt becomes all-consuming. To try to set things right, she provides Kathy and Tommy with what she believes is the key to the rumored deferment program.

  Ruth completes on her next donation, and after her death, Kathy checks out the information she passed on about deferment. Ruth has given her the address of a woman simply known as Madame, who used to visit the now-closed Hailsham, and is possibly the person one needs to approach to be admitted into the rumored program. Filled with hope, Kathy and Tommy decide to visit her and request a deferment. But there is a problem.

  While at Hailsham, the students were encouraged to express themselves through art. Periodically, Madame visited the school and selected the best of what they’d created. Kathy and Tommy deduce that Madame holds the key to deferment, and convince themselves that the way Madame tells whether two donors are truly in love is through their art. The trouble is that Tommy never had any art selected by Madame. It seems that their fragile hope is about to be dashed because Tommy didn’t do enough when he was younger to prove his worth.

  Despite this, the two lovers think they see a way forward. Tommy starts afresh developing his art portfolio, so he has something (he believes) to demonstrate his “worthiness,” and the two of them set out to visit the address provided by Ruth. Yet, on getting there, the couple are devastated to discover that Madame has no ability to grant a deferment; she never did.

  It turns out that Madame and Miss Emily were working as a team at Hailsham, but not to seek out evidence for true love. Rather, they were using the students’ art to determine if they had souls, if they had human qualities worth valuing beyond a working body and healthy organs.

  The two women earnestly wanted to find a way to show that these children were capable of human feelings, and that they had validity and worth beyond the organs they were carrying. Yet for all their moral angst, Madame and Miss Emily turn out to be all mouth and no backbone. They lament Kathy and Tommy’s plight. But they also dash their fragile hopes, claiming there’s nothing they can do to help.

  As Kathy and Tommy return to the care home that night, Tommy calmly asks Kathy to stop the car, and gets out. The whole weight of the despair and injustice he’s carrying crushes down on him, as he screams and weeps uncontrollably for the hope and the future that society has robbed him of. In that one stark, revealing moment, Tommy shows the full depth of his humanity, and he throws into sharp relief the inhumanity of those who have sacrificed him to the gods of their technology.

  As Tommy and Ruth complete, and Kathy becomes a donor herself, we realize that asking whether they have souls was the wrong question. We’re left in no doubt that these young people deserve respect, and dignity, and autonomy, and kindness, irrespective of what they have achieved. And we realize that, through them, the society that created the technology that produced them has been judged, and found wanting.

  Never Let Me Go is a movie that delves deeply into the questionable morality of convenient technologies. It’s also a movie that challenges us to think about how we treat others, and what separates humanity from inhumanity. But before we get there, it’s worth diving deeper into the technology that underpins the unfolding story we’re presented with: cloning.

  Cloning

  On July 5, 1996, Dolly the sheep was born. What made Dolly unusual was that she didn’t have regular biological parents. Rather, she was grown from a cell that came from a single animal.

  Dolly the sheep was the first successful clone of a domesticated animal from an adult cell. And the proof that this was possible shot the possibility of cloning from science fiction to science fantasy almost overnight.

  In Dolly’s case, the DNA from an ordinary, or somatic, cell—not a reproductive cell or stem cell—was injected into an unfertilized egg that had had its nucleus removed. This “clone egg” was then electrically shocked into starting to divide and grow, after which it was implanted in the uterus of a third sheep.

  Dolly was born healthy and lived for nearly seven years before she was put down due to increasingly poor health. But the legacy of the experiment she was a part of lives on. What her birth and life demonstrated without a shadow of doubt is that it’s possible to grow a fully functioning animal from a single cell taken from an organ, and presumably to keep on doing this time and time again.

  It’s easy to see the attraction of cloning large animals, at least on the surface. Loved pets could be reproduced, leading to a never-ending cycle of pup to adult and back to pup. Prize livestock could be duplicated, leading to large herds of prime cattle, or whole stables of thoroughbreds. Rare species could be preserved. And then there are people. Yet cloning human from scratch is harder than it might at first seem.

  In July 2016, there was a flurry of articles marking the twentieth anniversary of Dolly’s birth. In one of these, bioethicist Hank Greely astutely pointed out just how hard cloning still is, even after two decades of work: “Cats: easy; dogs: hard; mice: easy; rats: hard; humans and other primates: very hard.”18 The trouble is, while the concept of cloning is pretty straightforward, biology rarely is.

  The basic idea behind cloning is to remove the DNA from a healthy non-reproductive cell, insert it into a viable egg cell, and then persuade this to develop into a fully functional organism that is identical to the original. The concept is seemingly simple: the DNA in each cell contains the genetic code necessary to create a new organism from scratch. All that’s needed to create a clone is to convince the DNA that it’s inside a fertilized egg, and get it to behave accordingly. As it turns out, though, this is not that easy. DNA may contain all the right code for creating a new life, but getting it to do this is tricky.

  This trickiness hasn’t stopped people from experimenting, though, and in some cases succeeding. And as a result, if you really want to, you can have your dog cloned,19 or pay a company to create for you a clone-herd of cattle.20 And there continues to be interest in cloning humans. But before we even get to the technical plausibility of whether we can do this, there are complex ethical challenges to navigate.

  Despite advances in the science of cloning, the general consensus on whether we should allow humans to be cloned seems to be “no,” at least at the moment, although this is by no means a universally accepted position. In 2005, the General Assembly of the United Nations adopted a “Declaration on Human Cloning” whereby “Member states were called on to adopt all measures necessary to prohibit all forms of human cloning inasmuch as they are incompatible with human dignity and the protection of human life.”21 Yet this was not a unanimous declaration: eighty-four members voted in favor, thirty-four against, and thirty-seven abstained. One of the more problematic issues was how absolute the language was in the declaration. A number of those member states that voted against it expressed their opposition to human reproductive cloning where a fully functioning person results (human reproductive cloning), but wanted to ensure that the way remained open to therapeutic cloning, where cloned cells remain in lab cultures.

  This concern over human reproductive cloning seems to run deep. Certainly, it’s reflected in a number of the positions expressed within the UN Declaration and is a topic of concern within plenty of popular articles on cloning. The thought of being able to grow people at will from a few cells feels to many people to be unnatural and dangerous. It also raises tough questions around potential misuse, which is something that Never Let Me Go focuses our attention on rather acutely.

  In 2014, the online magazine io9 published an article on nine “unexpected outcomes of human cloning,”22 keeping the fascination we have with this technology going, despite the deep moral concerns surrounding it. These unexpected outcomes included ownership of clones (will someone else own the patent on your body?), the possibility of iterative improvements over generations (essentially a DNA software upgrade on each cloning), and raising the dead (why not give Granny a new lease on life?). The article is admittedly lighthearted. But it does begin to dig into the challenges we’ll face if someone
does decide to buck the moral trend and start to turn out human facsimiles. And the reality is that, as biomedical science progresses, this is becoming increasingly feasible. Admittedly, it’s incredibly difficult at the moment to reproduce people. But this is not always going to be the case. And as the possibility comes closer, we’re going to face some increasingly tough choices as a society.

  Yet despite the unease around human cloning, there are some people who actively suggest the idea shouldn’t be taken off the table completely. In 1997, not too long after Dolly’s birth, a group of prominent individuals put their name to a “Declaration in Defense of Cloning and the Integrity of Scientific Research.”23 Signatories included co-discoverer of DNA Francis Crick, scientist and writer Richard Dawkins, and novelist Kurt Vonnegut.

  This Declaration acknowledges how knotty an ethical issue human cloning is, and it recognizes up front the need for appropriate guidelines. But where it differs from the later UN Declaration is that its authors suggest that human cloning isn’t as ethically or morally fraught as some people make out. In fact, they state:

  “We see no inherent ethical dilemmas in cloning non-human higher animals. Nor is it clear to us that future developments in cloning human tissues or even cloning human beings will create moral predicaments beyond the capacity of human reason to resolve. The moral issues raised by cloning are neither larger nor more profound than the questions human beings have already faced in regards to such technologies as nuclear energy, recombinant DNA, and computer encryption. They are simply new.”

  The Declaration doesn’t go so far as to suggest that human reproductive cloning should proceed. But it does say that decisions should be made based on science and reasoned thinking, and it cautions scientists and policy makers to ensure “traditionalist and obscurantist views do not irrelevantly obstruct beneficial scientific developments.”

  In other words, the declaration’s authors are clear in their conviction that religious beliefs and mystical thinking should not be allowed to stand in the way of scientific progress.

  Ironically, one of the easiest places to find a copy of the “Declaration in Defense of Cloning…” is, in fact, in a treatise that is infused with religious beliefs and mystical thinking: Claude Vorilhon’s monograph Yes to Human Cloning.24

  Vorilhon, better known these days by his adopted name of Raël, published the monograph Yes to Human Cloning as a wide-ranging treatise on technological innovation and humanity’s future. And at its center is his rationale for why cloning is not only acceptable, but in fact essential to us achieving our destiny as a species.

  Despite its rather unusual provenance, I’d recommend reading Yes to Human Cloning, although I would suggest you approach it with a critical mind and a good dose of skepticism. Raël is a clear and engaging writer, and he makes his case with some eloquence for adopting emerging technologies like nanotechnology and artificial intelligence. In fact, if parts of this work were selectively published with the “I talk to aliens” bits removed, you’d be forgiven for thinking they came from a more mainstream futurist like Ray Kurzweil, or even a technology entrepreneur like Elon Musk. I’d go so far as to say that, when stripped of the really weird stuff, Raël’s vision of the future is one that would appeal to many who see humans as no more than sophisticated animals and technology as a means of enhancing and engineering this sophistication.

  In Raël’s mind, human cloning is a critical technology in a three-step program for living forever.25 Some transhumanists believe the route to longevity involves being cryogenically frozen until technology advances to the point at which it can be used to revive and repair them. Others seek longevity through technological augmentation. Raël, though, goes one step further and suggests that the solution to longevity is disposable bodies. And so, we have his three-step program to future immortality, which involves (1) developing the ability to clone and grow a replacement human body, (2) developing the technology to accelerate the rate of growth, so an adult body takes weeks rather than years to produce, and (3) developing the technology to upload our minds into cyberspace, and then download them into a fresh new (and probably upgraded) cloned version of yourself.

  Stupendously complex (not to mention, implausible) as this would be, there are people around who think that parts of this plan are feasible enough that they’re already working on it, as we’ll see in later chapters. Raël’s plan would, naturally, require the ability to grow a body outside of a human womb. But this is already an active area of research, as we saw in chapter two. And, as we’ll explore in later chapters, neuroscientists and others are becoming increasingly excited by the prospect of capturing the essence of the human mind, to the point that they can reproduce at least part of it in cyberspace.

  What particularly fascinates me here is that, beneath the Raëlian mysticism and UFO weirdness, this movement is playing with ideas that are increasingly garnering mainstream attention. And this means that, even if we won’t be growing bodies in our basements anytime soon, we have to take the possibility of human reproductive cloning seriously. And this means grappling not only with the ethics of the process itself, but also the ethics of how we chose to treat and act toward those clones we create.

  Genuinely Human?

  Louise Brown was born in the year 1978. What made Louise unique was that she was the world’s first child to be conceived via in vitro fertilization (IVF).

  I was thirteen at the time, and not especially interested the bigger world of technology innovation around me (that would come later). But Louise’s birth stuck with me, and it was because of a conversation I remember having with my mother around about this time.

  I don’t remember the details. But what I do remember is my mother wondering if a child conceived in a test tube would be like other people as they grew up—most especially, whether they would have a soul.26

  Of course, Louise and all the millions of other IVF-conceived babies that have been born over the years, are just as complete as every other of the seven billion plus people living on this planet. There is nothing about the mode of conception that changes the completeness or the value of a person.

  This should be self-evident. But as a quick Google search reveals, there are still more people than I would have imagined who are worried about the “humanity” of those conceived outside of biological intercourse.

  One example in particular stood out to me as I was writing this chapter. In 2015, a contributor with the alias “Marie18” wrote on the website Catholic Answers Forum:

  I learned today that my parents had me and my twin through IVF, and I just feel kind of devastated. Do IVF babies have souls? I would think so, but I just feel really uneasy that I was conceived through science, and I wasn’t in God’s plan for my parents.

  So, pretty much what I’m asking is if we have souls or not. I know in my heart that I do, but I’ve read some very upsetting things on the internet by Christians and Catholics.27

  It’s heart-rending that anyone should even have to ask this question. But it suggests that the premise of Never Let Me Go isn’t as far-fetched as it might at first seem.

  In Never Let Me Go, society absolves itself of the guilt of treating children as a commodity by claiming that clones are somehow less than human, that they are merely human-created animals and no more. It’s a convenient lie—much like the one underpinning the Precrime program we’ll encounter in Minority Report (chapter four)—that allows the non-clones in the movie to tell themselves it’s okay to grow clones for their organs and kill them when they’re done.

  What the movie so eloquently illustrates is that, far from being somehow less than human, Tommy and Kathy and Ruth are as human as anyone else in the society they live in. In this respect, Never Let Me Go challenges us to think critically about what defines our humanity and our “worth” as Homo sapiens.

  What gives us worth, or value, as individuals, is an increasingly important question as we develop technologies that enable us to not only redesign ourselves, but also use what w
e know of ourselves to develop new entities entirely. Human enhancement and augmentation, the merging of human and cybernetic systems, artificial intelligence, and cloning, all potentially threaten our sense of identity. And yet we stand at a point in human history where, more than at any previous time, we have the means to alter ourselves and redesign what we want to be.

  In this emerging world, “different” is no longer simply something we’re born with, but something we have the means to create. In fact, it’s not too much of a stretch to suggest that our growing technological abilities are heading toward a point where they threaten to fundamentally challenge our identity as a species. And as they do this, they are forcing us to reconsider—just as Never Let Me Go does—what “human” means in the first place.

  On December 10, 1948, the United Nations General Assembly proclaimed the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.28 In its first Article, this historic declaration states, “All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights. They are endowed with reason and conscience and should act towards one another in a spirit of brotherhood.”

  This, and the following twenty-nine Articles of the Declaration, establish a moral and ethical basis for attributes we as a society believe are important: equality, dignity, freedom, and security for all people. But the Declaration doesn’t actually define what “human” means.29

  Ask most people, and I have a feeling that the answer to “What is it to be human?” would include attributes such as being self-aware, being able to think and reason, having human form, being the product of a female egg and a male sperm, or being a member of a distinct biological species.30 These seem a not-too-bad starting point as characteristics that we can measure or otherwise identify. But they begin to look a little weak as we develop the ability to reengineer our own biology. They also leave the door open for people or “entities” that don’t easily fit the definition conveniently being labeled as “less than human,” including those that don’t fit convenient but arbitrary norms of physical and intellectual ability, or who are simply perceived as being “different.”