Chapter 1: The Ethical Quandary of Designer Siblings

How should we feel about parents who opt to create a second child specifically to serve as a genetic match for an existing child suffering from a life-threatening illness? Is it acceptable to engineer a child with the primary goal of harvesting their organs or tissues to aid their sibling? What emotional implications does this have for the second child? How might they perceive their own existence, their relationship with their sibling, and their parents?

This leads us to question whether the act of creating a second child purely for the sake of saving another's life is justified when the second child doesn't face life-threatening risks themselves. Alternatively, is it fundamentally unfair to place such a burden on that child? Should parents be compelled to endure the loss of a child when viable alternatives exist? Do parents hold the same affection for the second child as they do for the first—especially if the first child ultimately succumbs to their illness?

Before diving deeper into these questions, it is crucial to clarify that this discussion does not revolve around human cloning. It pertains to real situations where parents, faced with a child diagnosed with a disease like leukemia, may utilize IVF to conceive a second child whose genetic makeup is tailored to match the needs of the first. This practice raises significant ethical considerations, as the second child is brought into the world for a predetermined purpose.

The inspiration for this discussion stems from Jodi Picoult's novel My Sister’s Keeper, which delves into the complexities surrounding this very issue. The story features a younger sibling who sues her parents for medical emancipation, seeking to end her role as a biological resource for her older sister, who is critically ill. Although I won't divulge more of the plot—it's worth reading while steering clear of its film adaptation—the crux of the narrative raises pressing moral questions.

I personally do not have children, but I recognize the lengths to which parents might go to save a child, including the controversial decision to engineer a sibling for medical purposes. Framing it in stark terms, it feels almost as if the second child is being treated as a mere collection of organs. Yet, this is the grim reality for families dealing with repeated hospital visits for the older sibling, where the younger child is often called upon to provide necessary medical support.

From my perspective, I view this situation through two distinct lenses. As the younger sibling in my own family, I have often felt unwanted. I wonder if a child conceived to save an ailing sibling might grapple with similar feelings, questioning their own existence and worth. Would they feel that their sole value lies in their ability to assist their older sibling?

Conversely, I am also someone whose life was saved thanks to my brother's selfless blood donation. His willingness to help, even at great personal risk, emphasizes the natural bond between siblings, but he was not engineered for that purpose.

This leads to a critical examination of parental love in scenarios involving genetically engineered children. While parents generally possess an innate affection for their offspring, is it possible for a child created with a specific purpose to ever feel truly loved? Perhaps they would never be regarded as equal to the firstborn. They would endure painful medical procedures despite being in good health, solely for the sake of their sibling's survival. This raises the question of fairness to the second child and whether parental focus remains solely on the older child's life.

At what cost should we want our children to survive? Is it worth sacrificing the emotional well-being and sense of identity of a second child? I contend that it is not justifiable.

Human beings are complex, with their own hopes, dreams, and aspirations. We are not mere organ donors for our siblings. While I would willingly assist my brother in any way possible—including undergoing medical procedures myself—I was not brought into this world with that singular purpose.

Imagine the psychological toll on a child born solely to save their sibling, especially if that sibling passes away despite their contributions. How would they perceive their own existence? Would they feel loved and valued or merely as a reminder of a lost life?

As someone who feels unwanted, I lean toward the latter interpretation. I struggle to envision how parents could genuinely embrace a child they engineered for medical necessity, especially if that child fails to fulfill the expected role.

Despite the advances in medical science, creating a child for the purpose of serving as a treatment option for another feels deeply unethical. It is one thing to explore fertility treatments to bring a desired child into the world; it is entirely another to design a child as a living medical resource.

Ultimately, no child should be born under the burden of being a savior. This expectation is too demanding and reduces a human being to mere spare parts. Arguments may arise insisting that parents would love the engineered child just as much, but I remain skeptical.

If the engineered child fails to fulfill their medical role, does that mean they become a genetic substitute for the first?

I cannot reconcile this with a moral perspective. While the instinct to protect one’s child is natural, pursuing scientific extremes to create another child solely for that purpose is not. The humanity of the engineered child must be considered, but often it is not, and that is inherently wrong.

The first video titled "Genetically Engineered Super Babies: The Future of Mankind?" explores the implications of genetically modified children and the ethical considerations surrounding their creation.

The second video, "Genetic Engineering Will Change Everything Forever – CRISPR," discusses the transformative power of CRISPR technology and its potential ethical ramifications on society.