Even many women who view reproductive capabilities not as a detriment but as an important source of joy in their lives recognize that women's reproductive capabilities have long been used to oppress them. The ability to reproduce has been an important factor in women's loss of control over their own lives, contributing to their being controlled by chance, by government, and by other people—husbands, boyfriends, parents. In the past, to the extent that reproduction has not been left to chance, the woman herself has often not been the decision-maker. Husbands have often coerced women into producing and raising offspring when they did not want to, and societal attitudes have had the same effect of encouraging marriage, then motherhood. Historically, state governments have participated in coercing childbirth as well, some by prohibiting or restricting birth control and all states by prohibiting abortion.

Race and ethnicity are commonly reported variables in biomedical research, but how they were initially determined is often not described and the rationale for analyzing them is often not provided. JAMA improved the reporting of these factors by implementing a policy and procedure for doing so. However, still lacking are careful consideration of what is actually being measured when race/ethnicity is described, consistent terminology, hypothesis-driven justification for analyzing race/ethnicity, and a consistent and generalizable measurement of socioeconomic status. Furthermore, some studies continue to use race/ethnicity as a proxy for genetics. Research into appropriate measures of race/ethnicity and socioeconomic factors, as well as education of researchers regarding issues of race/ethnicity, is necessary to clarify the meaning of race/ethnicity in the biomedical literature.

Children in North America, some as young as eleven or twelve, routinely don helmets and pads and are trained to move at high-speed for the purpose of engaging in repeated full-body collisions with each other. The evidence suggests that the forces generated by such impacts are sufficient to cause traumatic brain injury (TBI) among children. Moreover, there is only limited evidence supporting the efficacy of interventions typically used to reduce the risks of such hazards. What kind of risk assessment enables such activities to be a relatively common feature of childhood in Canadian and American society?

In order to understand this state of affairs, we must examine the particular risk frame under which such hazards are commonly assumed. Risk assessments are embedded in the cultures in which they are situated and must be evaluated in their social contexts.

In March 1996, the General Accounting Office (GAO) issued the report Scientific Research: Continued Vigilance Critical to Protecting Human Subjects. It stated that “an inherent conflict of interest exists when physician-researchers include their patients in research protocols. If the physicians do not clearly distinguish between research and treatment in their attempt to inform subjects, the possible benefits of a study can be overemphasized and the risks minimized.” The report also acknowledged that “the line between research and treatment is not always clear to clinicians. Controversy exists regarding whether certain medical procedures should be categorized as research.”

This problem currently plagues gene transfer research. A few months prior to the GAO report, an ad hoc committee appointed by National Institutes of Health (NIH) Director Harold Varmus expressed similar concerns in its assessment of NIH investment in research on gene therapy.

Since 1991, over half the states have enacted laws that restrict or prohibit insurers’ use of genetic information in pricing, issuing, or structuring health insurance. Wisconsin was the first state to do so, in 1991, followed by Ohio in 1993, California and Colorado in 1994, and then several more states a year in each of the next five years. Similar legislation has been pending in Congress for several years. Also, a 1996 federal law known as the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act (HIPAA) prohibits group health insurers from applying “preexisting condition” exclusions to genetic conditions that are indicated solely by genetic tests and not by any actual symptoms.

The legal doctrine of informed consent has overwhelmingly failed to assure that the medical treatment patients get is the treatment patients want. This Article describes and defends an ongoing shift toward shared decision making processes incorporating the use of certified patient decision aids.

Antimicrobial resistance is a critical public health challenge, and the contribution of the widespread use of antimicrobials in food animals to bacterial drug resistance and human infection demands greater policymaker attention. Global consumption of antimicrobials in food animal production by 2030 is projected to rise by two-thirds due to increases in both food animal production and demand for animal products. In the United States (U.S.), the volume of antibiotics sold for use in food-producing animals is at least three times greater than that sold for human use. A One Health approach that emphasizes the connections among the health of humans, animals, and the environment is needed to address antibiotic resistance in an integrated manner. This approach holds the promise of collaboration across multiple disciplines, including doctors, veterinarians, food safety professionals, and environmental health experts.

The practice of using race or ethnic origin as a distinguishing feature of populations or individuals seeking health care is a universal and well-accepted custom in medicine. Although the origin of this practice may, in part, reflect past prejudicial attitudes, its use today can certainly be defended as a useful means of improving diagnostic and therapeutic efforts. Indeed, the tradition of dividing populations by some racial distinction in clinical research has nearly always revealed differences in mechanisms of disease and disease frequency that can enhance diagnostic and therapeutic precision.

At the conference occasioning this symposium, Professors Duster and Rotimi provided persuasive evidence that so-called race is not an accurate way to distinguish populations and that identification by race has led to serious prejudice. Professor Cho pleaded that race should never be used to characterize population differences.

To judge from the rash of recent law review articles, it is a miracle that research with human subjects in the U.S. continues to draw breath under the asphyxiating heel of the rent-seeking, creativity-stifling, jack-booted bureaucrethics that is the current system of research ethics oversight and review. Institutional Review Boards (IRBs), sometimes called Research Ethics Committees (RECs), have been accused of perpetrating “probably the most widespread violation of the First Amendment in our nation's history,” resulting in a “disaster, not only for academics, but for the whole nation.” One member of the President's Council on Bioethics went so far as to assert, “There has been no greater damage to academic freedom in the United States in my lifetime. And my lifetime encompasses McCarthy and it encompasses political correctness, both.” Locked in the bureaucratic “iron cage” of IRB oversight, critics charge that researchers have been transformed into a vulnerable, exposed population, subject to domination, that has been likened in one case to a kind of “Tuskegee in reverse.”

A major obstacle to broad support of clinical ethics consultation (CEC) is suspicion regarding the nature of the moral expertise it claims to offer. The suspicion seems to be confirmed when the field fails to make its moral expertise explicit. In this vacuum, critics suggest the following:

1. (1) Clinical ethics consultation's legitimacy depends on its ability to offer an expertise in moral matters.

2. (2) Expertise in moral matters is knowledge of a singular moral truth which applies to everyone.

3. (3) The claim that a clinical ethics consultant can offer knowledge of a singular moral truth in virtue of her professional training is absurd, false, or gravely immoral.

   Therefore,

4. (4) The field is illegitimate.

To someone holding a hammer, the cliché goes, everything looks like a nail. A similar myopia often afflicts legal minds as they approach deep-seated problems in global health, as every crisis is approached by first asking how it might be litigated away. In recent years, there has been a growing recognition of the limits of litigation as a tool for advancing equitable access to health — indeed of its potential, under some circumstances, to have a positively regressive impact. This very timely symposium offers us a chance to reflect more deeply on the matter.

Just over ten years ago, the first human trials of virtual colonoscopy, or computed tomography (CT) colonography, were performed. CT colonography (CTC), as it is now called, is a low radiation dose CT examination of the abdomen and pelvis following bowel purgation cleansing and insuflation (inflation) of the colon and rectum. High spatial resolution CT datasets of the abdomen and pelvis are obtained while the patient is lying in the prone and supine positions, with the entire procedure lasting about ten minutes. The resulting images are interactively reviewed on a dedicated computer workstation using 2D multiplanar images and 3D endoluminal displays of the colon. Over the past decade, rapid technological advancements in image acquisition, 3D display techniques, colonic insuflation, and stool tagging (i.e., labeling of stool with ingested radio-opaque contrast) have occurred, which have greatly improved the ability of CT colonography to detect colorectal polyps and cancer.

Individuals can often take steps to preserve or improve their own health. They can eat appropriate quantities of healthy foods, exercise, and refrain from smoking. They can obtain preventive care and adhere to their physicians’ advice about how best to manage their health. But they often fail to take these steps.

A widespread failure to adopt healthy behaviors can significantly erode public health while increasing health care costs. Obesity, for example, increases the risk of heart disease, stroke, liver disease, and certain cancers. By one estimate, it is responsible for almost 10 percent of medical spending in the United States, or about $147 billion per year. Smoking increases the risk of heart disease, stroke, lung disease, and cancer; it accounts for nearly 20 percent of deaths each year in the United States and about $96 billion in health care expenditures.

Over the past 20 years, international development assistance for health has increased, albeit for some diseases more than others. However, the triple crises of food, fuel, and finance have raised questions regarding whether aid flows will continue to increase, or even be maintained in the coming future. Health and education are often the first victims of budget cuts in times of limited funding and competing priorities as they are viewed to be in the realm of “low politics” as opposed to security and military spending, which are seen as “high politics.” Cuts in overseas development aid will have a drastic impact on countries where external funding makes up a significant proportion of national health budgets. Although global health aid accounts for only 0.3% of total expenditures on health globally (6.5% in sub-Saharan Africa), in some countries like the Solomon Islands and Mozambique, for example, 82% and 66% of the national health budgets respectively come from external resources. WHO estimates that 23 countries have over 30% of their total health expenditures funded by donors.

As medical technology becomes more sophisticate the ability to manipulate nature and manage disease forces the dilemma of when can becomes ought. Indeed, most bioethical discourse is framed in terms of balancing the values and interests and the benefits and burdens that inform principled decisions about how, when, and whether interventions should occur. Yet, despite advances in science and technology, one caregiver mandate remains as constant and compelling as it was for the earliest shaman—the relief of pain. Even when cure is impossible, the physician's duty of care includes palliation. Moreover, the centrality of this obligation is both unquestioned and universal, transcending time and cultural boundaries.

Although universally acknowledged, pain is a complex phenomenon for both the patient and the caregiver, influenced as much by personal values and cultural traditions as by physiological injury and disease.

As everybody knows, advances in medicine and medical technology have brought enormous benefits to, and created vexing choices for, us all – choices that can, and occasionally do, test the very limits of thinking itself. As everyone also knows, we live in the age of consultants, i.e., of professional experts who are ready, willing, and able to give us advice on any and every conceivable question. One such consultant is the medical ethics consultant, or the medical ethicist who consults.

Medical ethics consultants involve themselves in just about every aspect of health care decision making. They help legislators and judges determine law, hospitals formulate policies, medical schools develop curricula, etc. In addition to educating physicians, nurses, and lawyers, amongst others, including medical, nursing, and law students, they participate in clinical decision making at the bedside.

Vulnerability in research is often understood as a diminished ability to protect one's own interests, manifested by a compromised capacity to give informed or voluntary consent. Certain groups of people are thought to be more vulnerable than others and therefore are at risk of being exploited or mistreated in research. Accordingly, the federal regulations call for additional safeguards to protect vulnerable groups.

There remains some ambiguity and contradiction, however, regarding what groups are vulnerable in research and why,3 since the available codes of research ethics and regulations describe many groups as vulnerable. When so many groups are considered vulnerable, but no specification is offered as to how they are vulnerable or what particular protections are appropriate, the possibility of meaningful safeguards is diminished. In addition, current concepts of vulnerability are usually applied to whole groups of people, without distinguishing between individuals in a group who might truly have a compromised capacity to protect their own interests from those who do not.

Judging by their contribution to the global burden of death and disability, chronic, non-communicable diseases (NCDs) are the most serious health challenge facing the world today. The statistics tell a frightening story. Over 35 million people died from chronic diseases in 2005 — principally cardiovascular disease, cancer, and chronic respiratory disease. Driven by population growth and population ageing, deaths from non-communicable diseases are expected to increase by 17% over the period 2005-2015, accounting for 69% of global deaths by 2030.

Cardiovascular disease (CVD), the leading cause of death in all regions except sub-Saharan Africa, is estimated to rise from 17.1 million deaths (2004) to 23.4 million deaths (2030). Cancer deaths will increase from 7.4 million to 11.8 million over the same period. Due to population growth, mergers and acquisitions, and the marketing of global cigarette brands in developing countries, deaths from tobacco will rise from 5.4 million per year (2005), through 6.4 million (2015), to 8.3 million by 2030. These figures include a doubling in tobacco deaths in low- and middle-income countries from 3.4 million to 6.8 million lives annually. By 2015, smoking will cause 50% more deaths than HIV/AIDS.

How we integrate the astounding advances that genetics makes possible into our language, our conceptions of health and disease, and our systems to collect, control, and protect health-related information is a key question facing health law and policy-makers this decade.

For example, the prospect that all of us may harbor the genetic seeds of our own demise forces us to confront the blurring of the lines between “health,” “predisposition,” and “disease.” How will we modify our conceptions of health and disease in response to this new distinction?

That these questions must be answered using, at least in part, new approaches seems unassailable. Yet, we run the risk of becoming mired in an old debate—exceptionalism—in which we haggle over the precise nature and scope of the similarities and differences between genetic information and all other health-related information.