Major segments of the news media, as well as many scientific journals, have produced innumerable articles and stories that polarize issues about proper protections for animals involved in research. The prevailing exposition of the issues is the following: On the one hand, animal lovers make emotional appeals to the public's attachment to animals and use clever tactics to increase the vulnerability of universities and institutions of research. On the other hand, arrogant scientists refuse to respond to public controversy, have an inherent conflict of interest in reviewing research involving animals, and are out to advance their careers and interests, callously using animals as means to that end. As a result, journalists warn NIH officials that they “can expect continuing criticism from two disparate and opposing groups—animal welfare activists, who consider NIH the fox guarding the chickens … and scientists and administrators from the research community, who regard tighter restrictions as unnecessarily burdensome.”

Violations of the ethical canons of research have been reported with increasing frequency in recent years. Nowhere have the reported incidents been so numerous or so troubling or attracted so much Congressional attention as in biomedical research. Research ethics, once “something everyone agrees about,” has become the subject of disagreement now that issues of culpability and enforcement are demanding attention. How to distinguish mistakes from fraud has stopped being theoretically obvious and has become a practical problem.

Defining culpable research misconduct has proved to be controversial. Good definitions are a prerequisite for intelligent discourse and sensible regulations. Regulations based on unclear or misdirected definitions stimulate resistance, hostility and evasiveness. The case in point is the definition of what it is that a research institution must investigate and report to the appropriate federal funding agency if allegations of misconduct are received.

Ethical debate on human germ-line gene therapy is in a new stage. After an era when only individual convictions could be examined, technology is on a threshold of real possibilities. Germ-line gene therapy can conceivably be carried out in either of two practical ways: 1) insertion of a gene into a pre-embryo, which is the subject of this paper, or 2) insertion of a gene into the germ cells of an individual.

Transgenic animal research and pre-implantation embryo diagnosis have implications for human embryonic germ-line experiments to correct single gene disorders. When would such experiments be feasible and ethically acceptable? If further animal research supports it, we argue for a moral obligation to learn if human germ-line experiments are feasible and safe to attempt. The obligation is grounded in several social-ethical principles that lead society and researchers to set gods for studies that promisc to relieve and to prevent human suffering and premature death. These principles also shape the practices and restrictions of biomedical research.

In the “olden days,” only a few years ago, physicians were free to order virtually any service they believed their patients needed, confident that virtually everything would be paid for. Reimbursernent was retrospective, fee-for-service and generous, essentially a cost-plus system in which insurers only rarely challenged medical decisions. That system is now gone. Uncontrolled escalations in the cost of health care have prompted those who pay its costs—primarily governments, businesses, and insurers—to initiate a broad array of cost controls in hopes of at least restraining the rise of their expenditures, even if not actually reducing them. Among the most prominent cost-containment mechanisms is utilization review (UR).

Insurers have always engaged in retrospective review, denying payment for services that are not medically necessary, or not covered by the patient's policy, or not documented in the patient's records. Recently, however, payers have added prospective review, in which physician and patient must secure advance payer approval for certain interventions if they wish to ensure reimbursement.

The escalating cost of health care has forced people to confront the possibility of rationing—forgoing beneficial care for patients so that the resources might be used either for other current or prospective patients or for entirely different things in life than health care. Rationing of some sort makes eminent sense, not just economically; only those who are fanatics about health and medicine would urge that everything possible be spent on health care for even the slightest marginal benefit. Yet actual rationing of health care is usually thought to exact high, or at least disturbing, ethical costs.

I will examine four of these costs here: (1) the sacrifice of physician loyalty to patients, (2) the substitution of misleading and discriminatory numerical measurements of medicine's human benefit for more sensitive qualitative judgments, (3) the unfair bite that rationing is likely to take first out of poor people's care before it affects wealthier patients, and (4) the general Substitution of public, group standards about life and health for the values and decisions of individuals.

The escalating cost of health care has forced people to confront the possibility of rationing—forgoing beneficial care for patients so that the resources might be used either for other current or prospective patients or for entirely different things in life than health care. Rationing of some sort makes eminent sense, not just economically; only those who are fanatics about health and medicine would urge that everything possible be spent on health care for even the slightest marginal benefit. Yet actual rationing of health care is usually thought to exact high, or at least disturbing, ethical costs.

I will examine four of these costs here: (1) the sacrifice of physician loyalty to patients, (2) the substitution of misleading and discriminatory numerical measurements of medicine's human benefit for more sensitive qualitative judgments, (3) the unfair bite that rationing is likely to take first out of poor people's care before it affects wealthier patients, and (4) the general Substitution of public, group standards about life and health for the values and decisions of individuals.

In 1989 the Oregon Legislature voted not to wait any longer for national leaders to serve up a solution to the problem of the millions of Americans (450,000 in Oregon) who are uninsured for health care. Under the leadership of Senator John Kitzhaber, President of the Oregon Senate, the lawmakers put together a package of bills designed to bring every Oregonian the security of third party financing for needed health care. The Oregon Plan's key innovation is the idea that, from a societal perspective, some health services can be declared more important than others. From that central idea came the thought that the whole range of health services could be arrayed to reflect social priorities relevant to Medicaid budgeting and the design of new health insurance programs for “the uninsured.”

Approximately 35 million Americans have no health insurance coverage. They receive no health insurance where they work, nor do they qualify for Medicare, Medicaid, or any other program of health insurance. Eighty-five percent of these Americans live in households headed by someone working full time. One third of the 35 million uninsured are children.

Several reasonable inferences can be drawn from these statistics. First, the problem of the uninsured is a serious one in the United States. Thirty-five million Americans represent approximately 15 percent of the population. Second, the fact that the vast majority of the uninsured are in households headed by a working American shows that this problem is systemic. It is not simply a matter of unemployment, nor is it linked significantly to laziness or refusal to work. Finally, the fact that over 10 million uninsured Americans are children shows that many of the uninsured have this status beyond any intelligible notion of personal responsibility.

The acquired immunodeficiency syndrome (AIDS) has raised perplexing ethical and public policy dilemmas. Early in the epidemic, closing of bathhouses, testing blood donors for human immunodeficiency virus (HIV) infection, and notifying seropositive blood donors evoked passionate controversies. Current dilemmas include testing and using promising new treatments, notifying partners of seropositive persons, and, most recently, restricting the clinical activities of seropositive health,care workers who perform invasive procedures.

These dilemmas about HIV infection involve scientific judgments, cultural norms, and social values. In the HIV epidemic, public rhetoric and political pressure have been prominent. On the one hand, some persons have launched moralistic crusades against homosexuals and injection drug users. For these persons, AIDS symbolizes the breakdown of traditional family values and the social order. On the other hand, some advocates for persons with HIV infection have used confrontational tactics such as sit-ins and disruptive demonstrations.

The patient in a persistent vegetative state (hereafter, the PVS patient) has played a central role in recent American bioethical discussions and in recent litigation involving bioethical issues. From Quinlan’ to Cruzan and Wanglie, some of the most important cases involving ethical issues at the end of life have involved PVS patients. Major American medical groups such as the AMA and the American Academy of Neurology have adopted important policy statements on the care of such patients, statements that have been followed by at least one European group.

I have always found this activity a bit of a mystery. There is, after all, a relatively clear consensus about decision-making at the end of life, a consensus embodied in such documents as a report from the President's Commission and a report from the Hastings Center.

In March, 1989, 12 physicians published an article on the provision of care to hopelessly ill patients. Unfortunately, many of the substantive points in that article received insufficient attention from readers because the authors call for appropriate, continually adjusted care for terminally ill patients was overshadowed by a portion of the document in which ten of the authors agreed that “it is not immoral for a physician to assist in the rational suicide of a terminally ill person.”

In June, 1970, Jack Kevorkian, a retired pathologist in Michigan, gained international media attention by enabling Janet Adkins, a woman in the early stage of Alzheimer's disease, to terminate her life with the help of his “suicide machine.” The features of the case were so unusual that physicians, ethicists, and attorneys in health law who were interviewed by journalists were unanimous in judging this particular act of physician-assisted suicide deplorable.

The same concerns that have led society to consider euthanasia as an option for relieving the suffering of the dying led to the development of the hospice movement. How effectively has hospice care met these needs, and is there still a need for euthanasia? Is the hospice approach to death an alternative to euthanasia, compatible with euthanasia, or euthanasia in another form? Do those health care workers who are drawn to providing hospice care favor or oppose euthanasia?

Hospice care developed out of a sense of frustration with the treatment of the dying, and as a reaction against the abuses of an impersonal high-technology approach to patients. There was institutional denial of death which made it impossible to integrate death into the lives of people. Due to neglect, many patients were under-treated with little attention paid to relieving pain or dealing with their or their families’ psychosocial needs.

In the United States’ quite volatile public debates over the legalization of voluntary active euthanasia and physician-assisted suicide, much has been made of the risk of abuse. Indeed, it was probably fears of abuse that contributed more than any other single factor to the 1991 defeat of the United States’ first ballot test of legalizing euthanasia, the state of Washington's Initiative 119—despite prior state and national polls suggesting the measure would pass. Opponents of Initiative 119, which would have legalized physician-performed euthanasia or physician-provided aid in suicide when voluntarily requested by competent terminally ill patients with less than six months to live, variously claimed that the legislation would encourage greedy family members to pressure patients into choosing death, that unscrupulous physicians would kill patients who became unattractive to treat, that cost-cutting pressures from hospitals, insurers, and other institutions would force patients into death, and that race-, age-, and handicap-prejudice would take an especial toll among vulnerable groups.