On the way home from yoga class one night, I
heard two back-to-back reports on CBC radio that made me ponder what one might
call the yin and yang of science.
The first had to do with biologist Jane Shen-Miller, who had managed to bring a 1200+-year-old lotus seed to germination, and to grow a plant from another nearly 500 years old. The other concerned the Pentagon's leaked 'Nuclear Posture Review', which recommended the development of nuclear warheads for use against deep underground targets.
Was the juxtaposition perverse?
It seems like every day some dazzling new
scientific breakthrough does—or ought to—give us pause to reflect on whether
humanity's moral and spiritual growth is keeping pace with its intellect.
I'm the first to admit my bias. As a longtime student of eastern
philosophies, of course I'm captivated by the idea of the 'immortal' lotus,
symbol of purity and mystic omnipotence.
I was abjectly thrilled to think one of the old girls was able to jump
up and flash us her pantaloons after more than a millenium of retirement. How
life affirming, after all. How green,
how seemingly benign in practical applications.
By comparison, the idea of developing lots of
shiny new and improved nuclear warheads to blow up underground military
complexes seemed, well, uh… just a touch morally reprehensible. But no less
human, which is the part that makes me go 'hmmmm…'
Ironically, as obsessed as we homo sapiens are
with longevity and immortality, we seem as prone to blast ourselves right off
the planet. Sewing the seeds of
destruction, indeed. Old Doctor Freud
was definitely on to something with his theories of Eros and Thanatos—the life
and death urges inherent in the human psyche. Ah, science and objectivity. One is led to wonder how often Frankenstein
builds the monster just because he can.
I can scarcely disparage the scientific and
technological advances that have improved human, animal, and plant life by
leaps and bounds over the last century. But are we sure we know when to put on
the brakes? Circa 1980 I had a grade school science teacher who discussed the
possibilities of cloning with our class. He raised the ethical question of
human cloning. He asked if a person
could clone himself, and say, he lost an arm, mightn't he pull the ole clone
out of the closet, mine a limb, and toss the poor feller back in the dark 'til
he needed him again? Absurd, right?
Personally, I'm glad my teacher framed that very bizarre scenario. I remembered him affectionately, years
later, when I saw a picture of a mouse with a human ear growing out of its
back.
And
while we're talking about asking tough questions before we start
developing new 'products', perhaps it would be prudent to mention short-term
memory. We might not know all the
generational effects of cloning on the health of mammals yet. But we know quite a bit about nuclear
weapons. Say it along with me, now: NINETEEN-FORTY-FIVE. When the Pentagon boys talk about a new
generation of warheads that reduce nuclear fallout, and still blow terrorist
hideouts to smithereens, how ought we to respond? It just doesn't seem as nifty, somehow, as that 1200-year-old
lotus seed.