Nanoethics (2011) 5:251–267
DOI 10.1007/s11569-011-0130-2
ORIGINAL PAPER
Seven Religious Reactions to Nanotechnology
Chris Toumey
Received: 29 May 2011 / Accepted: 21 September 2011 / Published online: 14 October 2011
# Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2011
Abstract Nanotechnology—the control of matter at
the level of atoms and molecules—has evoked a large
body of literature on moral and ethical issues. Almost all
of this is expressed in secular voices. Religious
commentaries about nanotechnology have been much
more rare. And yet survey research indicates that
religious belief will be one of the most powerful
influences in shaping public views about nanotechnol-
ogy. This paper argues that it is worth knowing what
religious voices have said about nanotechnology, so that
we might anticipate additional religious reactions in the
future. After that, this paper presents seven cases of
religious reactions to nanotechnology from a variety of
faiths. This information gives us some insights about
how religious individuals and institutions think about
this technology, and also insights about how a new
technology evokes a variety of hopes and fears.
Keywords Religion . Transhumanism . Golem .
Enhancement . Standard technological ethics .
Embodiment . Cyberimmortality
C. Toumey (*)
USC NanoCenter, University of South Carolina,
1212 Greene Street,
Columbia, SC 29208, USA
e-mail: Toumey@mailbox.sc.edu
Introduction
“Halo” is a short story by the science fiction writer
Charles Stross, and it depicts a world, late in the
twenty-first century, which is shaped by Eric Drex-
ler’s vision of nanotechnology [38]. One element of
that vision is a device called a molecular assembler: to
manufacture a particular product, one deposits the raw
materials of atoms and molecules into a chamber.
Then the operator sets a dial for the desired product.
The assembler arranges the atoms and molecules
accordingly, and out comes the desired product: a loaf
of bread, a leather belt, a football, or whatever.
In a scene from “Halo”, a panel of Muslim scholars
at an Islamic seminary in Cairo considers the religious
implications of the molecular assembler. All meat
from a pig is forbidden according to Islam’s halal
laws. But what if an assembler can organize atoms
and molecules from scratch to replicate a product
which looks like a strip of bacon, smells like a strip of
bacon, and tastes like a strip of bacon, but without
ever having been part of a living pig? Is the synthetic
bacon still forbidden by halal laws?
That scene may amuse us, but one can imagine that
nanotechnology will produce serious questions about
morality and ethics. Nanotechnology—the control of
matter at the level of atoms and molecules—has the
potential to change our material world in terms of
medicine, microelectronics, materials science, privacy,
environmental conditions, and many other areas. These
developments will challenge any faith to discern the
spiritual implications of these changes. One can imagine
debates about morality, metaphysics, ‘playing God’, and
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other classic concerns. What, then, will religious people
say about the religious implications of nanotechnology?
I develop that question in five steps. First, I refer to
survey research to show why religious reactions to
nanotechnology will be important. Second, I compare
the scarcity of religious reactions with the multitude of
secular reactions. Third, I invoke the cases of environ-
mental issues and biotechnology so that we might
imagine what religious people and institutions could
hypothetically think and say in the case of nanotechnol-
ogy. After that I present seven cases of religious
reactions to nanotechnology, from a variety of faiths.
This section includes a short description of transhuman-
ism because some of those religious reactions assess
nanotechnology in terms of transhumanist values and
visions. The fifth section is a discussion of those
religious reactions and what we might learn from them.
Religious Beliefs and Public Reactions
to Nanotechnology
Five studies enable us to see how public reactions to
nanotechnology are shaped by certain cultural values,
including religious values. In 2009, Dan Kahan and
colleagues conducted a survey of 1,862 adults in the
US on the risks and benefits of nanotechnology. They
found that reactions to nanotech were not strongly
influenced by information about nanotech. Instead,
the principal determinant was a set of ideological
predispositions to technological risk that were shaped
by earlier issues like climate change and nuclear
power. These predispositions took the form of a pair
of well-established polarized ideologies that the
authors call individualistic/hierarchical (in effect,
strongly pro-business) and egalitarian/communitarian
(meaning that they are suspicious of big business).
When people in these categories acquired information
about nanotechnology, they used it to reinforce their
preconceptions, with the result that scientific knowl-
edge did not change these dispositions. On the
contrary, it intensified their ideological polarization:
“Individuals in the real world are likely to select
information in a biased fashion that matches their
cultural and political dispositions” [24].
In the UK, an exercise was conducted in modelling
public reactions to six likely applications of nano-
medicine. Four groups from different parts of the
country were each balanced for gender and ethnicity,
Nanoethics (2011) 5:251–267
and they pondered the potential applications of nano-
medicine in a two-stage process. Together they
concluded that better diagnosis of diseases and better
drug delivery were the two most attractive applica-
tions. The two least attractive were drug discovery
and “theranostics”, that is, combining diagnosis and
therapy in a single process. Two other considerations
(infection control and regenerative medicine) occu-
pied middle positions on the continuum of attractive/
unattractive [8].
What were the participants’ reasons for ranking
those six applications that way? They embraced a
set of value-laden themes which endorsed: (a)
personal empowerment and responsibility, as op-
posed to institutional control of one’s health; (b)
protecting the privacy of the patient; and (c) a sense
of social equity which controls the costs of health
care, and which disdains public funding that leads
to private profits. Thus theranostics was believed to
take away choice and responsibility, but diagnosis
of disease gave patients information to act on their
own conditions. Drug discovery was felt to be
equivalent to public support for private gain, but
better drug delivery represented a benefit for
everyone [8].
If those two studies enable us to stipulate that
certain cultural values, not dependent upon scientists’
preferences, will shape nonexperts’ reactions to
nanotechnology, then we can turn to some specific
information about how nanotechnology looks within a
context of religious values. George Gaskell and
colleagues presented a survey that was particularly
teasing: in the US, Canada and the EU, many people
trusted scientific experts to lead us through science
and technology policy. But this kind of trust declined
as levels of educational achievement declined. What
then replaced that sense of trust? “In the United
States, religious beliefs were strongly related to
critical attitudes to science and technology” [17].
Another survey based on a sample of 706 people in
the US found that the “strength of religious beliefs is
negatively related to support for funding of nanotech-
nology”. Religious apprehensions that developed
earlier in response to biotechnology served as a
template for reactions against nanotechnology. People
for whom religion was not very important were more
supportive of funding for nanotech. And, as in
Kahan’s survey, knowledge of nanotechnology had
little influence [9].
Nanoethics (2011) 5:251–267
The final survey to consider comprised the US and
twelve EU nations. All had comparable levels of
science and technology, and each had a rating on a
scale from religious to secular, based on earlier
comparative research. The more secular nations found
nanotechnology more morally acceptable; the more
religious nations found it less acceptable. “Religiosity
is the dominant predictor of moral acceptance of
nanotechnology”, wrote Dietram Scheufele and his
colleagues. “Public attitudes toward issues such as
nanotechnology are increasingly driven by personal
values and beliefs” [32]. Scientific knowledge about
nanotechnology was distinctly less influential than
religious belief. The US ranked as the most religious
of the 13 nations.
Together these five studies alert us that reactions to
nanotechnology will be shaped by a landscape of
values, beliefs, concerns and other strong sentiments
that were established in people’s hearts long before
most people heard of nanometers or carbon nano-
tubes. A related point is that the scientific knowledge
in people’s minds is a weak companion to the strong
values and concerns in their hearts.
Statements About Nanotechnology in Secular
Voices
There is no shortage of statements saying what is
right or wrong about nanotechnology. The US
National Science Foundation has conducted two large
meetings on “societal and ethical implications of
nanotechnology”, each of which resulted in a thick
volume of proceedings [29, 30]. Another source is the
2007 volume NanoEthics [1], and of course the
journal NanoEthics, which serves as a platform to
discuss what nanotechnology will do in the near
future and what should be avoided on ethical or moral
grounds. Almost all of these statements are written in
secular voices, e.g., those of professional ethicists,
philosophy professors, scientists and engineers. These
and other statements constitute a compendium of
warnings and cautions framed in terms of justice,
morality and other virtues.
Secular voices that comment about nanotechnolo-
gy cannot be conveniently summarized or distilled.
Some are extraordinarily optimistic about the ability
of nanotech to improve our lives, but others say that
nanotech will contribute to environmental harm, or to
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the end of our environment, or to the end of humanity.
The range of visions about the goodness or the
badness of nanotechnology is broad. This probably
reflects some of the characteristics of nanotechnology
itself. It is not a single scientific discipline or
subdiscipline. Instead it is molecular biology plus
atomic physics plus quantum physics plus catalytic
chemistry plus synthetic chemistry plus microelec-
tronics plus materials science plus other topics. If
scientists see nanotechnology only from the perspec-
tive of their own disciplines or subdisciplines, then
nonscientists might well have a comparable myopia.
Furthermore, nanotechnology is not a single
product or application like a better cell phone or a
better process of polymerase chain reaction. It is more
like the assembly line, that is, a generalized technol-
ogy platform that makes thousands of new products
or applications possible. Finally, nanotechnology is an
emerging technology. The science is superb in the
present, but most of the tangible applications are in
the future. This condition is an invitation for anyone
to project his or her personal expectations onto
nanotechnology.
I do not mean to say that secular voices are better
than religious voices, or that religious voices are
better than secular ones. But in the great space for
staking out judgments about the moral and ethical
value of nanotechnology, secular voices have greatly
outnumbered religious voices. It seems peculiar that
religious voices are so rare on a topic with so much
potential to challenge us with moral and ethical
issues.
Religious Voices on Biotechnology
and Environmental Issues
We might compare the paucity of religious voices on
nanotechnology with the richness of religious voices
on environmental issues. The point of departure for
the latter is Lynn White’s [46] paper, “The Historical
Roots of Our Ecological Crisis”. There White argued
that certain Old Testament passages, especially at
Genesis 1:26, Genesis 1:28, and Psalms 8:6, justified
misuse of the environment by giving humans “do-
minion” over the earth and the authority to “subdue”
it [46]. That seemed to be a powerful argument, partly
because it was so stark and so clear. Very soon
thereafter, a counter-narrative arose to challenge
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White’s thesis. It was pointed out that many Biblical
passages advocate for environmental protection (e.g.,
[3, 14, 23, 44]). Today this latter view is much more
widely expressed than White’s thesis. In the words of
Calvin B. DeWitt, “the Bible provides such powerful
environmental teachings that it can be thought of as a
kind of ecological handbook on how to rightly live on
earth” ([14]:39). This is not the place to present that
approach in all the detail it deserves, but some
relevant Biblical proof-texts are these:
& Leviticus 25:23–24 : “The land is mine and you
are but aliens and my tenants. Throughout this
country that you hold as a possession, you must
provide for the redemption of the land”.
& Ezekiel 34:17–18 : “As for you, my flock… Is it
not enough for you to feed on good pasture? Must
you also trample the rest of your pasture with your
feet? Is it not enough for you to drink clear water?
Must you also muddy the rest with your feet?”
& Jeremiah 2:7 : “I brought you into a fertile land to
eat its fruit and rich produce. But you came and
defiled my land and you made my inheritance
detestable”.
Another comparison is the case of religious
reactions to biotechnology, and here there is a
problem. In his analysis of “Religious and Metaphys-
ical Opposition to Biotechnology”, Paul Thompson
was disappointed to discover a series of deficiencies
in religious thought about biotech. Some religious
objections to biotech were nothing more than “stan-
dard technological ethics”, that is, arguments that
could have been written by secular sources in the
sense that they contain no theological or metaphysical
content or inspiration. Religious groups could clearly
see the dangers of “philosophical reductionism and
materialism”, but they could not convert that wisdom
into specific policy recommendations. The religious
values of some people “flatly contradict fundamental
factual tenets of evolutionary biology”. A denomina-
tion’s “scholarly academic theology” might have been
quite different from the beliefs of its laity. The
principal value of commentaries by theologians could
have been their “metaphysically based concerns”, said
Thompson, but in fact the theologians had not done
this, or at least not successfully ([40]:261–280).
Thompson summarized religious thought on bio-
tech as “the inchoate character of religious opposi-
tion” ([40]:279). He expressed a hope that religious
Nanoethics (2011) 5:251–267
views would become more coherent, and that the
scientists who developed biotechnology would assist
religious people in developing their views.
In addition, George Smith suggested that religious
resources are readily available for evaluating biotech-
nology, but that they will have little positive effect
because religious people, like other members of the
public, are unable and unwilling to understand the
relevant science. “The unwillingness of the average
citizen to become educated and informed on the
critical issues of the day”, he writes, is the core
problem ([36]:323). If so, then good religious resour-
ces are squandered. And Patrick Hopkins cautioned
that poorly formulated religious critiques of biotech-
nology would backfire and discredit religion [22].
Perhaps one can imagine the same happening in the
case of nanotechnology.
A Series of Religious Reactions to Nanotechnology
If religious belief will indeed be influential when
nonexperts judge nanotechnology, then we should
examine the religious reactions that have arisen by
now. Which denominations have spoken about nano-
technology? What do they approve of, and disapprove
of, in nanotech? On what basis do they come to these
views? Will their views be firmly anchored in Biblical
proof texts, as in the case of many Christian reactions
to environmental issues? Will their views be similar to
the religious views on biotechnology that Thompson
found so disappointing?
There are two synoptic statements about religion
and nanotechnology. In her book Technology and
Religion, Noreen Herzfeld devoted ten pages to
nanotech. She introduced it largely in terms of the
visionary optimism of Eric Drexler, Ray Kurzweil and
Robert Freitas. Nanotechnology was expected by
some to be a new philosopher’s stone that will give
us immortality. Nothing was static. All was change-
able. New materials, not found in nature, would be
produced. But Herzfeld also cautioned that there were
dangers here. Whereas Kurzweil extolled the expec-
tation that new conditions would enable us to
transcend the historical limits of our human existence,
Reinhold Niebuhr had previously alerted us to the
perils of seeking man-made transcendence ([19]:100).
In her conclusion she wrote that:
Nanoethics (2011) 5:251–267
Religion gives us a platform from which to
evaluate our technologies, a voice to call for a
change in direction, if needed, and a call for
contrition when we fail ([19]:140).
Jameson Wetmore addressed religion and nano-
technology in a 2010 article in the Encyclopedia of
Nanoscience & Society. Some religious thinkers, he
wrote, hoped to have active roles in ethical issues in
nanotechnology: not by mandating ethical answers or
policy decisions, but by raising issues and questions.
The tone of the articles by those thinkers was not anti-
technology, he said, but rather to remind their readers
that nanotechnology is not “value free”. They
recommended an approach he called “co-production”:
“people and technology together shape both techno-
logical and social features” of a new technology.
([45]:666). “People must direct it” and despite some
“complicated issues, they still can have input into the
process”.
The sense of his comments was both that it was
important for religious people to engage with tech-
nology—“to empower them in a field they may be
reluctant to enter”—and that the nanotechnology
community should learn that engaging with religious
people does not have to be confrontational ([45]:666).
The author enthusiastically endorsed the idea that
religious people “must be included in conversations
about the future of nanotechnology” and that it would
be better for this to happen sooner than later:
These religious thinkers contend that the best
way to further human good is to reflect on the
social and ethical implications of the develop-
ment and implementation of new nanotechnol-
ogies before they are deployed ([45]:667).
Now, as we turn to seven cases of religious
reactions to nanotechnology, it should be said that
most of these statements have background and
context, e.g., the history of a denomination’s positions
on science and technology. This is a rich and
fascinating consideration. But I cannot do justice to
that here. I plan to write about these religious
statements elsewhere so as to connect them to their
denominational contexts, but for this preliminary
report I present these religious positions on nanotech-
nology without denominational histories and similar
information. The first four cases are position papers
by religious organizations or institutions. The fifth is
an approach to technology in general by several
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writers, which one of them applies to nanotechnology.
The sixth is a cluster of reactions to one particular
issue related to nanotechnology, and the seventh is a
pair of studies of small groups of religious people
reacting to nanotechnology.
Some of these reactions connect nanotechnology to
the values and visions of transhumanism. A digres-
sion is necessary here: what is transhumanism and
what does it have to do with nanotechnology?
Transhumanism is an ambitious vision of using
powerful technologies to accelerate human evolution
and to steer it in certain directions, particularly the
elimination of illness and disease, so that humans will
live more or less indefinitely, and to incorporate
information technology into human anatomy and
human consciousness, so that we can escape the
limits of our biological bodies. Members of the
transhumanist movement anticipate a condition in
the near future called The Singularity. In this
condition, all of the relevant technologies will
combine in one amazing synergy so that the aspira-
tions of transhumanism are realized in a transcendent
situation entirely unlike the lives we lead now, and
entirely superior to our lives today [42].
The transhumanist movement expects nanotech-
nology to be one of the principal instruments for
achieving The Singularity. At the same time, many
scientists who work in nanotechnology are uncom-
fortable with extravagant expectations like those of
transhumanism. Other scientists in nanotech have
satisfying careers without ever having heard of trans-
humanism. The faith community of those who
embrace transhumanism overlaps a little with the
scientific community of those who work in nanotech-
nology, but transhumanism should not be reduced to
nanotechnology, and nanotechnology should not be
seen only as a project of transhumanism. It would be
better to see nanotechnology and transhumanism each
in their own terms: to take both of them seriously
without needing one to depend on the other. But if
some religious people equate nanotech with trans-
humanism, then we should be alert to that fact and ask
why it is so.
Indeed we will see that some religious people
judge nanotech in terms of its relation to trans-
humanism. While religion, and especially Christiani-
ty, has reasons to present a critique of transhumanism
(and vice versa), nanotechnology has been caught in
the middle of a conflict between religion and
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transhumanism. We should consider some of the
content of transhumanism in order to understand this
situation.
Regarding the transhumanist vision of human
nature, the writer most relevant is William S. Bain-
bridge. “True human freedom,” writes Bainbridge, is
found in transhumanism, which “seeks to empower
each individual to become whatever he or she wishes”
([4]:92). “Transhumanists believe that we have
reached the point in history at which fundamental
changes in our very natures have become both
possible and desirable” ([4]:91). He calls one such
change cyberimmortality : “Very soon, it will be
possible to build a computer model of all your
preferences, opinions, and mental associations, based
on the convergence of advanced information technol-
ogy with cognitive science and the more traditional
methods of psychology and sociology” ([5]:26; see
also [43]). This information—your spirit stored on a
silicon chip, so to speak—would then live forever
“within information systems, robots, or genetically
engineered biological organisms” so that humanity
would evolve “from material to computational planes
of existence” ([5]:25).
Then, asks Bainbridge, who would oppose this
glorious transcendence? “The power of traditional
religions is directly threatened by transhumanism so
the sacred monopolies can be predicted to suppress
it… Humans could become like gods, and in so doing
may put conventional religion out of business”
([4]:91). Also, “religion may feel a need to destroy
science in order to save itself” ([5]:28), and “reli-
gion… will battle cognitive science to the death”
([5]:29). For details of this violent battle, Bainbridge
presents five vivid scenarios of the combat of
cyberimmortality versus religion ([5]:29).
In describing this conflict, Bainbridge generalizes
broadly: fundamentalist faiths are typical of all
religion [5, 6], and religion is more or less universally
hostile to technology ([4]:95, 99). Religious belief
amounts to rumor, fantasy and “wishful thinking” in
his account ([4]:92; [5]:26).
In addition to nanotechnology uploading one’s
consciousness into information systems, it is
expected that nanomedicine (along with other
technologies) will prolong the human lifespan
indefinitely. The inventor Ray Kurzweil has done
more than anyone else to communicate this theme.
His vision is three-fold: first we should stay alive
Nanoethics (2011) 5:251–267
long enough to benefit from the technologies that
will banish the process of aging; then we will
enjoy an indefinite life-span because of those
technologies; and finally we can live forever in
the cyberimmortality that Bainbridge champions
[7, 25]. For that first step, transhumanists are
especially comfortable with cryonics, the freezing of
dead bodies in the hope that they can be reanimated
when The Singularity arrives [43].
Transhumanism has institutionalized itself in a
matrix of magazines, books, conferences, lectures,
and other resources. There is also a Singularity
University. Now, as we consider specific religious
reactions to nanotechnology, we can note that some of
these reactions connect nanotechnology to transhu-
manist visions and values.
Journal of Lutheran Ethics, February 2006
The Evangelical Lutheran Church in America
(ELCA) is the so-called mainstream denomination of
the Lutheran family of churches in the US. Its
interpretations of Lutheran theology and social teach-
ing are considered compatible with much of secular
American culture, and with changes in American
culture. In religious politics, one would say that
ELCA is centre-left. ELCA has a variety of venues
and statements for speaking about science and
technology, and one of its on-line publications, the
Journal of Lutheran Ethics, devoted a special issue to
the topic of nanotechnology in February 2006. In the
words of R. Milford and J. Wetmore [27], “the journal
is important to the study of nanotechnology in society
because it was the first major religious journal to
dedicate an entire issue to nanotechnology”. Three of
its articles deserve special attention.
“Nanoethics: General Principles and Christian
Discourse”, by S. Andersen and M. Ebbesen [2],
places the ethical issues of nanotechnology into a
series of established ethical frameworks. The authors
express a concern held by others that the study of
ethical issues in nanotechnology has been moving too
slowly: “researchers are worried that the science is
advancing faster than the ethics”. Then they answer
this sentiment by pointing to developments in
bioethics and the similarity with issues in nanotech-
nology. For decades, bioethics has been addressing
issues of risk, privacy, and transhumanism. Issues of
Nanoethics (2011) 5:251–267
nanoethics are neither very novel nor more problem-
atic than issues in bioethics.
And yet Lutheran thought on bioethics is divided,
say the authors, and thus cannot be the template for
nanoethics. Andersen and Ebbesen then recommend a
course of action for Lutherans: “Christians in Luther-
an understanding are called to engage in social and
political life and seek a moral basis they share with
non-Christian fellow citizens”. The shared moral basis
cannot be distinctly Christian if non-Christians are
expected to accept it, so the authors turn to the
principle of natural law: “All human beings—
believers or not—possess the ability to know the will
of God in a general way because they are created in
God’s image”. In the view of the authors, natural law
is entirely compatible with Christian belief, including
both Catholic and Lutheran, yet it also provides a
basis for including the ethical understandings of non-
Christians. The Golden Rule is one such manifesta-
tion of natural law. “If Lutherans today want to keep
this universalist element of ethics—which we believe
they should—they will look for a kind of contempo-
rary secular ethics that could be interpreted as a
formulation of the Golden Rule”, say Andersen and
Ebbesen.
Notice that this article has done two things. It
has diminished the concern of some people that
issues of nanoethics are unique to nanotechnology,
and it has declined to identify a distinctly Lutheran
sense of ethics for nanotechnology. The last
section, however, has a strong and clear sense of
Christian belief. Andersen and Ebbesen address the
question of transhumanism and its embrace of
human enhancement, that is, the use of drugs and
other medical therapies for non-therapeutic purpo-
ses. The use of steroids by athletes to improve
their performance, for example, is an enhancement,
and so is the case of students taking Ritalin to do
better on exams even when they have no medical
condition requiring that drug. In the authors’
words, “It is one thing to improve the life
conditions of human beings within the limits that
define humanity. It is something quite different to
improve human beings, to ‘upgrade’ them by trans-
gressing these limits”. Andersen and Ebbesen argue
that if salvation in the Christian understanding
involves mortal death, then it is sinful to make
humans immortal. Projects like that, they say, are
“manifestations of the fact that humans are not
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prepared to accept the fundamental and limiting
conditions of life”, including “the reality that life is
marked by pain, suffering and death”. And so the
authors conclude this article by invoking Christian
belief to answer the transhumanist program.
Noreen Herzfeld’s contribution, “The Alchemy of
Nanotechnology”, draws a contrast between the use
of technologies for positive purposes like “responsible
stewardship of the Earth’s resources”, and projects of
unlimited hubris, e.g., the intentions of some nanotech
visionaries to achieve “total control over Nature in the
ability to transmute any substance into any other”. To
develop this point she draws upon advice from
Reinhold Niebuhr: man aspires to the infinite, to be
like God, but he refuses to recognize “the finite and
determinate character of his existence” [18]. This
closely echoes Andersen and Ebbesen, although
the previous authors had not cited Niebuhr
specifically. Herzfeld also refers to the transhu-
manist aspiration to use new medical technologies
to cheat bodily death. As Andersen and Ebbesen
had noted, this transhumanist idea circulates
among some of nanotechnology’s leading visionar-
ies. To make the point that there is no Christian
salvation without first experiencing bodily death,
Herzfeld points the reader to I Corinthians 15:51–
52 (“Behold, I show you a mystery; we shall not all
sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the
twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet
shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible”).
The strength of this article is its commentary on
hubris in thinking about nanotechnology. But its
weakness is that it does not enable the reader to
easily distinguish between legitimate optimism about
the benefits of nanotech and illegitimate hubris in the
same area.
Then there is Thomas D. Pearson’s article, “The
Ethics of Nanotechnology: A Christian Reflection”
[28]. This one traces the ethical concerns of Eric
Drexler, the most famous of the nano-visionaries, and
especially Drexler’s cautions about the uncontrolled
self-replication of tiny life forms. Pearson concludes
that this danger is extremely unlikely, after which he
segues into a discussion of ethical issues in general in
nanotechnology. And here he brings the question of
ethical deliberations to an abrupt stop. Lutherans and
others know too little about the metaphysics of atoms,
molecules and matter to pass judgment on the science
of the nanoscale:
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Until we have greater clarity, or at least greater
consensus, on what it means to be a human
being, or what counts as “natural”, or how to
discern the place of technology in the moral life
of human communities, it will be of little use to
intone vacuous ethical pieties about the “com-
mon good” or the “public welfare”… The public
is best served first by a familiarity with the
metaphysical currents that flow beneath all
technologies, and then by understanding the
science that informs these technologies… If you
don’t know the science, you can’t do the ethics.
To assess the ethical dimensions of any new
technology, it is imperative that there be a deep
familiarity with the scientific details before
undertaking the appropriate moral deliberation
[2].
Pearson then asserts that the Lutheran core princi-
ple of justification by grace through faith “does not
quickly yield up the necessary ethical insights that
allow us to frame an immediate response to scientific
advances like nanotechnology. Christians, and Luther-
ans in particular, would be wise to… be cautious in
our moral judgments on nanoscience.”
In these three pieces from the special issue of the
Journal of Lutheran Ethics, we see that Andersen and
Ebbesen decline to describe a Christian ethical stance
that is specific to nanotechnology. Instead, they use
the case of bioethics as a reliable template. Pearson,
too, declines the idea of a Christian ethical stance, but
for a very different reason.
The COMECE Statement on Nanomedicine, October
2006
COMECE is a francophone acronym for the Com-
mission of the (Catholic) Bishops’ Conferences of the
European Community. It speaks occasionally about
ethical issues in science, technology and medicine,
with an emphasis on Catholic concerns about bioeth-
ics: organ donation, human stem cells, genetic testing,
cloning, etc. In October 2006, COMECE produced a
statement on “Ethical Questions Raised by Nano-
medicine” which was later bundled for publication
with 15 other position papers [11].
This statement begins by defining nanomedicine,
and tells the reader that nanomedicine will include
therapeutic, preventive, diagnostic and regenerative
medical developments. Then it shifts to a distinction
Nanoethics (2011) 5:251–267
between in vitro and in vivo diagnostics. Here the
statement is not exactly scientifically erroneous, but it
garbles the classic distinction between in vitro and in
vivo. After that problematic transition, the COMECE
statement presents a realistic account of nanomedical
applications, especially targeted drug delivery that
optimizes bioavailability at tumour sites, and tissue
regeneration, along with other forms of regenerative
medicine.
The document then adds cautions about unfore-
seen toxicological problems and the potential for
medical nanoparticles to cross the blood–brain
barrier. Nanoscale devices answer to quantum
mechanics, the COMECE statement says, and
these dynamics are not well understood: “Nano-
medicine should pay special attention to the study
of possible risks arising from the use of these
nanoparticles” ([11]:25).
After that information on benefits and risks, this
document shifts to a series of ethical questions:
& Will nanomedicine respect the integrity of the
human body, or will it modify the body so that it
is no longer “natural” or “human”? This is a
question about transhumanist intentions, but with-
out using the term “transhumanist” per se.
& What about the right of a person to know, or not
know, nanomedical information?
& Will nanomedicine produce sophisticated diagno-
ses of conditions for which there is no treatment,
and what is a patient supposed to do with this
information?
& Will either in utero or in vitro diagnostics lead to
abortion?
& Will nanomedicine respect a sense of human
dignity that does not depend on one’s “health
conditions”? This appears to be a caution against
using nanomedicine to justify euthanasia.
& How will information from nanomedicine be
controlled and supervised?
Finally, the COMECE statement delivers some
recommendations. Information, including both posi-
tive and negative, should be available. There should
be “public supervision” of both the financial and the
experimental features. Risks should be assessed on a
regular basis. The treatment of diseases takes prece-
dence over human enhancement. Human germ cells
should not be modified. Nanomedicine deserves a
“wide democratic debate” ([11]:27–28).
Nanoethics (2011) 5:251–267
This document is not perfect, but it nevertheless
gives us a thoughtful and nuanced view of nano-
medicine. For the most part, it does a good job of
presenting the scientific and the ethical considera-
tions, each on their own terms. One can see the
COMECE statement as an expression of classic
Catholic concerns about abortion and euthanasia, but
it also includes some Catholic concerns that go
beyond those two topics.
The EKD Statement on Environmental Policy,
September 2007
The Evangelische Kirche in Deutchland (EKD) is an
umbrella organization representing 26 million Ger-
man Protestants in the Lutheran, Reformed, and
United churches. In September 2007 the EKD reacted
to a statement by the Commission of the European
Union regarding environmental health and safety in
nanotechnology. The EKD statement is a sustained
critique of the EU document, emphasizing these
points:
& The EU document called only for a “voluntary”
code of conduct on environmental health and
safety in nanotechnology, but the EKD insisted
that a voluntary code would be insufficient;
& The EU document referred only to academic or
“basic” science, but the EKD argued that applied
science should be included as well, and that it was
not possible to have a sharp distinction between
basic and applied nanotechnology;
& In the view of the EKD, the EU document lacked
a clear and unified definition of nanotechnology,
whereupon the EKD statement argued that such a
definition was urgent [15].
After those points were presented at the beginning
of the statement, there followed a long discussion of
other related considerations, including human dignity,
protection of privacy, inclusiveness (i.e., the need for
many different kinds of people and organizations to
be included in discussions), integrity, and ethical
judgment. These latter topics were developed in such
a way as to add perspective and detail to the three
specific critiques of the EU document.
The EKD statement on nanotechnology was a
comprehensive and thoughtful document which was
compatible with the views of mainstream environ-
mental organizations. One can imagine that the same
259
text could have come from many environmental
advocacy groups. The distinctively religious parts of
the statement were a sentence at the beginning to say
that EKD represents approximately 26 million Ger-
man Christians, and three sentences at the end to state
that its statements on peace, justice and the protection
of creation are motivated and guided by Christian
belief.
And yet, after the first sentence, and before the last
paragraph, there was nothing Protestant, Christian or
otherwise religious in this document. One does not
doubt the Christian motivations of the authors of the
EKD document, but those religious motivations were
invisible in this text about environmental health and
safety in nanotechnology. The EKD statement thus fit
squarely into Paul Thompson’s category of “standard
technological ethics”: a religious organization spoke
about science and technology in way that disguised or
deleted its religious inspiration, so that the document
was indistinguishable from a secular document on the
same topic. To borrow from Thompson’s analysis,
this might have been different if the theologians had
put some theology into the EKD statement.
The Tabah Foundation Brief on Nanotechnology,
November 2008
The Tabah Foundation is a Muslim think tank in Abu
Dhabi UAE which seeks to serve Muslims, including
Shari’ah scholars, by summarizing contemporary
issues so as to facilitate debates and discussions.
From that service, it is hoped, the Foundation’s
“analytical briefs” will help in “mediating the chal-
lenges facing the Muslim world today” [16]. One
could say that the Tabah Foundation is a middle-man
which enables Muslims to digest certain products of
Western thought so they can be evaluated according
to Muslim values.
The Tabah Foundation published an 18-page
analytical brief, “Ethical Dimensions of Nanotechnol-
ogy” in November 2008. This statement began by
calling for Muslim and other religious reflections on
nanotechnology, especially medical and environmen-
tal risks and benefits: “Religious perspectives have
been requested. Muslim scholars and opinion leaders
have yet to respond” ([16]:1). After some basic
scientific information like a definition of the nano-
scale, there followed a list of likely applications, and
then an expression of likely concerns, e.g., toxicity,
260
surveillance, and labelling of nano-enabled products.
The author emphasized that one ought to study
specific nanotech issues; a generic analysis would be
less helpful ([16]:10).
After that, the author raises some questions that
would be of interest to Muslims in terms of ijtihad,
that is, Islamic procedures for issuing legal rulings,
and the related question of who has the authority to
issue them:
& What legal rulings will there be on creating new
forms of matter? Are new configurations of atoms
permissible?
& Does Shari’ah grant permission to harness God’s
creation, and how does Shari’ah warn against
tampering with creation?
& Will “nano-replicas of natural substances” have a
status equivalent to the natural substances they
replicate?
& If cells and tissues are replicated, “does the replica
have the same ruling as the original?” Here Furber
refers back to the case of the synthetic bacon in
“Halo”.
& Is it permissible to replicate a living creature
“atom by atom”?
& “Is it possible to create a new living creature
unprecedented in nature?”
The author also raised some questions that are not
unique to Muslim thought, e.g., issues of privacy, and
matters of environmental harm.
“Ethical Dimensions of Nanotechnology” conclud-
ed with a series of religious reflections. The Qur’an
and the Sunnah (sayings and habits of Mohammed)
are not anti-science per se, but specific applications of
nanotechnology may require theological rulings, and:
Muslim scholars are well placed to provide a
religious alternative to ultra-conservative Amer-
ican Christians as well as to set policies where
religion fosters scientific inquiry instead of
suffocating it… When it comes to dilemmas
regarding religion and technology, very often
the Muslim public tends to adopt current
Christian religious reasoning for lack of an
authentic alternative ([16]:14–15).
The heart of the author’s concern was this:
“Without religious guidelines, what differentiates
Islamic science from, for example, secular science?”
([16]:13). But in the case of nanotechnology, he said,
Nanoethics (2011) 5:251–267
“Muslim scholarship has yet to respond in any
significant fashion” ([16]:15).
One can say that the Tabah Foundation document
raises many questions, and answers few. Even so, this
can be appreciated as a sincere and urgent plea for
Islam to take nanotechnology seriously and to judge
its applications according to Islamic law.
Golems in Nanotech
In Jewish folklore, beginning in the third century and
continuing into the medieval and postmedieval cen-
turies, there appeared a series of golem stories. A
golem was a humanoid creature assembled by a holy
man with the benefit of knowledge of divine powers,
or by someone else using nonsacred magic. There
were multiple versions of the golem story, which
means that there were different ways to express and
explore the ethical issues of creating artificial life
[34]. What are the rights and the responsibilities of
the golem? What are the responsibilities of the man
who makes a golem? Under what circumstances is it
legitimate for a man to create humanoid life outside of
“natural” processes of reproduction?
Beginning in 1966, a small number of Jewish
writers began to use golem stories as a template for
thinking about ethical issues in information technol-
ogy and biotechnology. If a product of a certain
technology had a quality that could be connected by
analogy to a human quality—intelligence, reasoning
ability, or a power to direct the reproduction of
animals or humans, for example—then golems stories
could serve as a rehearsal of considerations about the
ethical implications of the technology.
Gershom Scholom’s article in Commentary in
January 1966 is especially well known [33]. Scholom
suggested that a new and powerful computer at the
Weizmann Institute in Rehovath, Israel, should be
named Golem Aleph (“Golem One”). The author’s
reasoning took the form of a series of similarities
between legendary golems, especially the Golem of
Prague, and the computer. Both the golem and the
computer were representative of man’s creative
powers. Each was “a technical servant of man’s
needs”. The creation of a golem was written in
Hebrew letters that represent numbers, while the
creation of the computer was written in a numerical
alphabet of 0 and 1.
Nanoethics (2011) 5:251–267
This way of seeing a computer as a golem had a
positive, almost friendly, tone. Scholom was generous in
the playful way that he asked the reader not to fear the
power of the computer, and not to see it as a threat to
humanity. He finished with a set of last words to golems
and computers: “Develop peacefully and don’t destroy
the world”. Azriel Rosenfeld’s article from later the same
year was more alarmist [31]. Recent developments in
artificial intelligence, along with further possibilities
on the horizon, presented us with a suite of troubling
questions. Using the term “robots” instead of “com-
puters”, Rosenfeld warned that intelligent robots
would challenge us in these and other areas:
& What is man? “How much of a person’s body can
be replaced by artificial limbs and organs before
he is not longer a ‘man’?”
& If biologists synthesize sperm and ova to make
human bodies without parents, is the creature a
human or an android?
& If the intelligence of dolphins and other higher
animals approaches human intelligence, then do
these animals deserve a human-like status?
Then golems entered his discussion: a question
about the human status of a golem was “clearly very
closely related to our original robot and android
problems” ([31]:23). For example, there were solid
reasons why a golem was not considered “legally
human”, and that it was more akin to “an animal in
human form”. But then an intelligent golem which
expressed itself by speaking could be considered
human ([31]:25–26).
The author concluded that artificial intelligence and
the synthesis of life were not “serious religious trans-
gressions” akin to the building of the Tower of Babel,
and that those who develop these technologies typically
were “not inspired by anti-religious motives”. “Let us
build our golems”, wrote Rosenfeld, “in the sight of
God” ([31]:26).
Decades later, Byron Sherwin developed the
golem/technology analogy more fully. In Golems
Among Us and in a subsequent paper [34, 35], he
created a framework for thinking about how, in
Jewish tradition, technology was permitted to affect
nature. This had two themes. First, God’s creation is
incomplete, which gives humans an invitation, even a
responsibility, to improve the creation through tech-
nology, provided that this is “tempered by moral
wisdom” ([34]:53–54, 204–205; [35]:137).
261
Secondly, Talmudic tradition and other Jewish
sources say that it is permissible within certain limits
to create artificial life ([34]:105; [35]:137). Sherwin
then pointed to genetically modified food ([34]:66)
and cloning ([34]:105) to indicate that they were
acceptable. But that permission had to be tempered
with wisdom and responsibility. One of the lessons
from the golem stories is that the maker of artificial
life has a responsibility to control the creature he
makes ([34]:155). This is the difference between
Rabbi Loew of Prague, most famous of the golem-
makers, and Victor Frankenstein. Loew controlled his
golem. Frankenstein did not ([34]:194–196).
Regarding nanotechnology, Sherwin focused on
the supposed danger of self-replicating nanobots
which would reproduce themselves in infinite quan-
tities ([34]:147–153). On the principle that a golem
was not permitted to procreate, one would conclude
that nanobots cannot be permitted to replicate out of
control. In fact many machines and robots and other
products of technology are golems, wrote Sherwin
[35], thus making the legend of the golem “a relevant
and powerful metaphor” for coming to moral and
ethical decisions about technology in general.
It is worth realizing that the perspective of
Scholom, Rosenfeld and Sherwin was not necessarily
representative of Jewish thought in general. It was the
sophisticated view of a small number of thinkers: “a
small cadre of recondite Jewish scholars”, as Sherwin
put it ([35]:134). We might compare that with the
Journal of Lutheran Ethics special issue, or the
COMECE statement, or the Tabah Foundation brief.
Each of those aspired to represent Lutheran, Catholic
or Muslim thought in general. The reader can decide
for herself whether they succeeded at this, but the idea
of golems in new technologies lacked a claim to be a
general expression of Jewish thought. Yes, it was
firmly grounded in Jewish tradition, and that should
be appreciated. But it also had a sense that Scholom,
Rosenfeld and Sherwin could not take it for granted
that other Jews would see the ethical issues in
technology through the lens of golem stories. The
golems in nanotech constitute a thought experiment,
which is different from an uncontested conclusion that
yesterday’s golems are today’s nanobots or human
enhancements or molecular drug delivery systems.
And Sherwin’s comments about nanotechnology were
a small part of a larger analysis, not restricted to
nanotech.
262
One more item: Irving Hexham offered a Christian
perspective that complemented Sherwin’s. Robots in
science fiction literature, like golems in Jewish
legends, offered us “a debate on the meaning and
purpose of existence” ([20]:577). What is a person?
What is a soul? How should a technology be
controlled? Robot stories for Hexham were a way to
ask these questions, and in fact at the end of his article
Hexham said that Christian theology was inferior to
robot stories in science fiction for pursuing these
questions ([20]:578).
Christian Reactions to Transhumanism
and Enhancement, 2004–2006
One of the reactions against the values of trans-
humanism was a genre of writing in 2004–06 from a
small group of writers, Catholic and Protestant, in the
US and the UK, who grounded their objections
explicitly in Christian values and beliefs. These
writers were appalled by the transhumanist aspirations
of immortality, calling it “a misguided manipulation
of evolution” [10], claiming that it “challenged every
faith community to believe a human being is more
than just one more biological product” [12], or saying
that it “assumes a blind faith in inevitable progress
through science and technology” [39].
This meant that when transhumanists aligned
themselves with nanomedicine, the Christian writers
had to examine nanomedicine to see which features
were objectionable and which were not. This led to a
contrast between enhancement and the Christian
acceptance of “embodiment”, that is, the belief that
Christians should be comfortable with their imperfect
bodies, and that bodily death is not something to
escape. Two of these Christian writers pointed out that
Christianity has faced something similar in the past.
In the medieval form of Gnosticism known as
Albigensianism or Catharism, the Gnostic heretics
preached that our bodies were not merely imperfect,
but in fact vile and corrupt. Their spiritual goal was to
escape from that condition. And more recently, if
transhumanism taught something similar and offered
an escape from the imperfections of our human
bodies, either through cyberimmortality or through
immortal flesh-and-blood bodies, then one could say
that this aspect of transhumanism amounted to neo-
Gnosticism ([21]:38; [41]:364).
Nanoethics (2011) 5:251–267
This analysis led to certain questions about nano-
medicine. Could nanomedicine be disentangled from
transhumanist aspirations? Transhumanists have in-
cluded nanomedicine in their expectations of techno-
logical salvation and eternal life. Must Christians see
it the way transhumanists do, or can Christians
evaluate nanomedicine on its own terms?
If not, and if it was to be judged only as a source of
enhancements or immortality, then it was incompat-
ible with the Christian sense of embodiment. Further-
more, this reaction would have seen nanomedicine in
terms of speculations about developments that might
or might not happen many decades from now. It
would have short-changed discussions of other devel-
opments that might be more modest, more realistic,
closer in time (e.g., nano-enabled drug-delivery
systems), and not incompatible with Christian belief.
These religious writers were not hostile to new
technologies in general. They often reminded the
reader not to be reflexively hostile to technology. It
was not the gadgets of the transhumanists that they
opposed, but the seemingly amoral approach to the
use of these gadgets. And yet, if Christian writers
thought about nanomedicine only in terms of en-
hancement and immortality, then they would fall into
a trap of being systematically hostile to a very broad
technology.
The Christian writer Bernard Daly was truly
shocked by the transhumanist convention he visited
in 2004, and yet he expressed an ecumenical call for
an interfaith dialogue between Christians and trans-
humanists [12]. For that to happen, however, Chris-
tian thought would require more than a reaction to the
more sensationalist expectations of nanomedicine.
Small Religious Groups in England & Arizona,
2008–2009
In 2009, Sarah Davies and colleagues at Durham
University in England reported an exercise in which
six focus groups comprising nonexperts explored
nanotechnology, with each group meeting twice.
One of the groups consisted of eight members of an
“open evangelical” Anglican church ([13]:211). In
each group, the first meeting introduced nanotechnol-
ogy to the members, after which the members learned
more on their own, followed later by a 1-day
workshop ([13]:203).
Nanoethics (2011) 5:251–267
The researchers found that the deliberations of the
focus groups contained four themes that were com-
mon among all six groups ([13]:207–209):
& That nanotechnology threatened certain “shared
moral boundaries that constitute the nature and
meaning of ‘being human’”, for example, “the
dangerous intersection of human life with
machines”;
& Concerns about control and power;
& Concerns about threats to individual autonomy, e.g.,
matters of choice or self-determination; and,
& Influences of “consumption and seduction”, that
is, a worry that nanotechnology would be driven
by “an economy of needless consumption”.
While the church members expressed those themes
too, there was something unique about this group.
They had “a language of spirituality and relationality”
which enabled them to explore the four themes more
thoroughly than the other groups ([13]:204). With a
vocabulary of God, soul, spirit, and eternal life,
“drawn from Christian belief”, they were more
articulate than the other groups in exploring the four
themes ([13]:211–212). “The group’s religious affili-
ations provide them with a language that helped them
express the concerns that all the groups raise about
nanotechnology’s potential to impinge on sacred
spaces” ([13]:214).
Thus each focus group translated its concerns into
narratives about technology and ethics, but the church
group had an especially effective “repertoire of moral
and ethical narratives” ([13]:203). The researchers
concluded thus:
It seems that those publics with ready access to
theological languages may be more adept at
expressing such intuitions… [about what nano-
technology] threatens and promises ([13]:204).
They also speculated that this advantage would not
be limited to Christian groups: “religious affiliations
of any kind would provide similar resources”
([13]:216). Considering that the church group shared
the same concerns as the other groups, but then
expressed those concerns more effectively, the
researchers suggested that religious groups should
assume leadership roles in communicating the con-
cerns of the lay public.
A study in Arizona US reported something similar.
Eight people were recruited to a 2-day “Dialogue on
263
Nanotechnology and Religion” based on two criteria:
that they expressed a curiosity about nanotechnology
and that they identified themselves as religious. Their
religious backgrounds included Catholic, Lutheran,
Latter-day Saints, and Buddhist [26].
The author, Richard Milford, described three
themes that seemed especially religious in their
content: (a) “the potential limits of human nature
and whether or not they should be overstepped”; (b)
“The reality of human suffering in a world of science
and technology”; and, (c) a certain lesson which a
Lutheran participant said was well known to Luther-
ans, namely, that “the use of technology can create
new inequalities, injustices, and technological
divides”. Notice how the first and third corresponded
to the first two themes of the church group in
northeast England.
Milford concluded that because the group was
composed of religious people, its discussion of ethical
questions was richer than what one would have found
in a nonreligious group. For example,
One person’s expression of particular religious
beliefs, even if not shared by other participants,
could nevertheless contribute to the articulation
of views that others could engage with in
discussion [26].
The religious people were able to draw upon
religious narratives with a repertoire of “symbols,
imagery and metaphors”. Their religious beliefs did
not lead to definitive answers to difficult ethical
questions, but these beliefs were nevertheless valuable
“as a template from which to derive novel questions
and ways of thinking about the issues” [26]. This is
very close to what Davies et al. had said about the
church group in England.
While both reports said that religious belief
enhanced discussions of ethics and the creation of
narratives, Davies et al. reported that the themes of
the church group’s concerns were the same as those of
the other groups. In contrast, Milford speculated that
the participants’ concerns would have been substan-
tively different in a nonreligious group.
Institutions and Individuals
Earlier I cited three surveys which indicate that
religious beliefs will strongly influence public
264
reactions to nanotechnology, and that public reactions
will not depend much on scientific knowledge of
nanotechnology. I am confident that these surveys had
good methods and valid results, but we should
recognize that they give us only a very general sense
of the role of religious beliefs. Here we ask another
set of questions. Which religious beliefs will be
influential? Why those beliefs?
The first step in addressing those questions is to
examine the small collection of religious reactions to
nanotech that have appeared in recent years. Perhaps
the seven cases we see here can show us common
themes so that we can know which religious beliefs
deserve more attention. But there is a trick in
extrapolating from these cases. Institutional state-
ments from authoritative religious bodies may have
little consequence for individual religious persons.
How many Lutherans read and internalize the papers
in the Journal of Lutheran Ethics? How many
European Catholics follow the position papers of
COMECE? Do the analytical briefs of the Tabah
Foundation represent the views of Muslims in
general? What proportion of the Muslim world do
they reflect?
Academics (including this author) appreciate the
four documents of the JLE, COMECE, EKD and
Tabah because these are communications which
aspire to condense large bodies of theology and
science. We can know how one sectarian group or
another sees nanotechnology. That way, sectarian
reactions seem predictable. The other three cases—
some Jewish theologians thinking about golems and
technology; some Christians writing about transhu-
manism and what it means for nanotechnology; and
two focus groups comprising religious persons—hint
at something different. When individual religious
persons consider science and technology, they may
reflect the position papers generated by authoritative
religious institutions, but they might reflect something
very different, namely, religious views about science
and technology that depend not on religious author-
ities. The reactions of religious individuals may be
intensely religious without being encapsulated in
documents from institutional religious authorities.
Here I think of the case of the members of the
Southern Baptist Convention (SBC) in the US. With
16 million members, this is the largest Protestant
denomination there. Historically its social profile was
White Southern working class, with modest levels of
Nanoethics (2011) 5:251–267
education and income. That has changed in the past
two generations, so that SBC now has a prominent
presence in the Southern middle class.
SBC as an organization sometimes produces
position statements about moral issues like abortion,
but it has been largely silent on scientific topics
except for a rejection of evolution 30 years ago [37].
What, then, can we expect of the members of the
Southern Baptist Convention regarding nanotechnol-
ogy? Will a large number of SBC members conform
to the predictions from the survey work of Gaskell,
Brossard and Scheufele, on the grounds that the more
religious a person is, the more hostile he or she will
be to nanotechnology? Or will members of SBC
approve of nanotech to the degree that they have
middle-class educations and occupations, and so will
appreciate nanotech for its contributions to improving
the material conditions of our lives?
One can imagine that members of SBC will divide
themselves into two categories. Perhaps those with
middle-class occupations in medical technology,
information technology, or related professions will
have positive feelings about another powerful family
of technologies. And perhaps other SBC members
will be more wary of nanotech on moral grounds. If
nanomedicine generates pre-natal diagnostic tools that
could result in more abortions, then nanotech will
appear to this population to be an evil technology.
I do not know how Southern Baptists will pass
judgment on nanotechnology. Whatever happens in
this regard, we can understand that position papers
from religious authorities are worth having, but also
that many religious people decide how they feel about
science and technology without necessarily depending
on their denominational authorities.
If there truly is a gap between statements from
religious authorities and the beliefs of individual
religious persons within the same denominations,
then our seventh case study deserves special appreci-
ation. For the religious people in those two focus
groups, their views about nanotechnology apparently
arose without the benefit of guiding documents from
their denominational leaders. The data from those two
reports are modest in the sense that the samples are
small, but they offer us a two-stage plan for inferring
more about how religious persons think about nano-
tech. First, we can ask what these two groups have in
common in their thoughts about nanotech. Secondly,
we can ask whether these commonalities are reflected
Nanoethics (2011) 5:251–267
in the other six case studies. Are the authoritative
documents congruent with these grass-roots
sentiments?
The seventh case study steers our attention to two
themes. According to the first theme, religious
persons in the two focus groups worry that nanotech-
nology will contribute to re-defining human nature in
ways that diminish religious understandings of human
nature. This is a sense that transhumanist values are
the enemy of religious values, both in Tempe AZ and
in Durham UK. For the second theme, religious
persons worry that, in the case of nanotechnology,
the control of science will lead to adverse consequen-
ces for equality and justice. If you agree with this
author that the two focus groups have empirically
documented these two themes, then the next question
is whether these themes appear in the other six case
studies.
Yes, those two themes are reflected, to one degree
or another, in the other six case studies. Each contains
one or both of those two themes. If there is a common
denominator for religious reactions to nanotech,
affirmed both in empirical observations of two focus
groups and in reading religious texts about nanotech-
nology, then those two themes constitute that com-
mon denominator. Note that neither of these is unique
to nanotechnology. The question of who governs
nanotech is part of a larger question of who governs
science, or whether any particular entity controls
science. The question of whether nanotech is tanta-
mount to transhumanism is part of a broader question
of whether science should be able to change human
nature. Both of these themes express a worry that
science is beyond political or moral control.
Furthermore, these examples of religious reactions
to nanotechnology remind us that there are trans-
denominational or trans-sectarian concerns about
science. One denomination may be better than another
at expressing these two themes, but no denomination
has a monopoly on concerns like these.
A related problem is that some faiths have strong
motivations to assess new sciences and technologies,
along with infrastructures of colleges, seminaries,
journals and think tanks that enable them to examine
those topics in great depth. Good examples are the
Roman Catholic Church and the ELCA Lutheran
denomination. Others lack such infrastructure. They
are not necessarily unconcerned about science and
technology, but their voices receive less attention than
265
those of the faiths with large institutional resources
and publishing venues.
I conclude with three observations. First, religious
belief is likely to be influential in shaping public
reactions to nanotechnology, and religious belief
about nanotech can be thoughtful and provocative.
Even so, secondly, religious reactions are still
distinctly small in numbers compared with reactions
expressed in secular voices. This is not to say that
religious and secular voices need to compete with
each other to see who can produce more commentar-
ies on nanotechnology, but it is regrettable that most
religious organizations have disregarded the moral
and ethical issues involved with this family of
sciences and technologies. I agree with Jameson
Wetmore [45] that it would be good for religious
organizations to do this sooner rather than later.
My third observation is that nanotechnology looks
different to various religious organizations (which is
also true of secular organizations). Some of these
religious statements aspire to identify moral or ethical
issues that are particular to nanotechnology, but in
other cases a generic ethical template is assumed, as if
the ethical issues in nanotechnology are new itera-
tions of earlier ethical issues from biotechnology or
information technology.
These seven case studies, taken together, are a rich
expression of religious thought. The Catholic concern
about bioethics; the Muslim style of ijtihad for raising
questions about procedures and authorities; the Jewish
sense of technology interacting with the creation:
these and the other sectarian commentaries on
nanotechnology remind us that those who create
new technologies can benefit by listening to the
voices of thoughtful religious people.
Coda
Because of the problems noted above, especially the
possibility that religious individuals may not conform
to the views of their denominations’ religious author-
ities, I conducted a pilot study consisting of ethno-
graphic fieldwork on reactions to nanotechnology in
seven faith communities. This work was done in
Columbia SC USA in 2010–11. I expect to report this
research in the near future, and especially to compare
that ethnographic data with documentary information
presented in this paper.
266
Acknowledgments The work in this paper was made possible
by a grant from the US National Science Foundation (Number
0951614) and by a fellowship in the 2010 Research Colloqui-
um of CrossCurrents (the Association for Religion and
Intellectual Life). The views in this paper are those of the
author and do not necessarily represent the views of NSF or
CrossCurrents. I am also happy to acknowledge the contribu-
tions of Colin Townsend, the graduate research assistant on the
Religion & Nanotechnology Project. In addition, I thank the
two anonymous reviewers for this journal for their helpful
suggestions that enabled me to improve this paper.
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