In this blog post, we will examine whether it is truly desirable for parents to “design” their children, and how human anxieties about competition and death are connected to this issue.
The central question of this post is, “Should parents be allowed to design their children?” To be precise, the question is, “Is it acceptable to use biotechnology to design children?” However, in this post, I will set aside for the moment the question of the means of design—that is, what is used to design—and instead examine whether the very act of “designing” something is desirable in the first place. The dictionary definition of the verb “to design” is to plan or create something for a practical purpose. In other words, when parents “design” their children, it refers to any action they take toward their children to achieve a practical goal. For example, forcing a child to study excessively to get into a prestigious university, or attempting to enhance specific abilities using biotechnology, fall within the scope of this discussion. On the other hand, actions taken to treat a child’s illness are excluded from this discussion. As indicated by the dictionary definition of “design,” the criterion for inclusion or exclusion is whether the action serves a utilitarian purpose. Any interaction between parents and children that transcends matters of life and death and takes on a means-oriented or instrumental nature is included in this discussion. This article supports the argument that “parents should not design their children.” Here, it is presupposed that all humans are beings destined to die someday and live with the task of attributing profound meaning to their own deaths. The author argues that the act of designing a child does not reflect this reflection on death.
It is necessary to clarify the scope of application of the word “design.” For example, suppose there are parents whose child is suffering from a life-threatening illness. Upon learning that their child is critically ill, the parents worry about the child’s well-being. They might have the child treated at a hospital, ask someone for help, or rely on their faith. These actions stem from the parents’ fear that their child might lose their life due to the illness. In other words, they are driven by the unconscious anxiety triggered by the immense event of “human death.” Actions stemming from this anxiety about death fall outside the scope of the verb “to design.” This is because, first, the time granted to humans is finite, and second, death is the most significant event that can befall a human being. Therefore, no matter how much money and effort parents invest in treating their child, it is difficult to view this as anything other than a very natural human behavior or an action undertaken for practical purposes. Ultimately, the reflexive actions triggered by the reality of “death” are not included in the act of design, nor are they the subject of my criticism.
Some might counter, “Isn’t it also an act of design to use biotechnology before a child is born to endow them with genetic traits that significantly reduce the risk of disease?” The intent behind this question is as follows. Since parents would feel fear of death if their child were to fall ill after birth, the argument goes, attempting to prevent that fear from the outset is a natural human behavior—not an act of design. However, the death I am referring to is not death in that sense. Death exists as a possibility that can befall anyone at any time. Death comes without warning. No one walking down the street can predict in advance that they will be involved in a traffic accident just a few seconds later. This unpredictability and the possibility that it could become a reality at any moment evoke a deep fear in humans. In other words, the fear of death I am referring to is an immediate and reflexive reaction, not one formed through calculation and judgment. In the previous example, the parents’ behavior is not so much a living fear of death in this sense as it is a reaction involving judgment and calculation; at the same time, it can be viewed as a type of “designing” act.
We have clearly examined the scope of design acts above. So why, specifically, does death take center stage in this discussion? First, as long as biotechnology cannot grant humans eternal life—no matter how advanced it becomes—humans will inevitably die someday. Second, no act, regardless of its practical purpose, can alter the very fact that humans are destined to die. Based on these two premises, death always instills fear and anxiety in humans. I wish to demonstrate that the design practice defined earlier is not an act intended to alleviate such fear and anxiety. For example, some might argue that spending large sums on private tutoring to get their children into prestigious universities, or using biotechnology to endow them with superior genetic traits, can alleviate the fear of death to some extent. The reason is that expensive private tutoring improves a child’s academic performance and increases the likelihood of a more stable life in the future. Since this reduces the possibility that the child will face poverty or a disadvantaged life in the future, it could be viewed as an act that alleviates a certain kind of fear. However, strictly speaking, this fear is not the fear of death. The fear of death is linked to an existential anxiety about when and where it might strike. In contrast, this fear is closer to the anxiety that arises from the process of maximizing a child’s chances of winning within an already existing competitive structure. Furthermore, the competitive landscape that exists in society operates on a different plane from the fundamental issues of individual life and death. Ultimately, such actions by parents do not fundamentally alleviate either their anxiety about their child’s death or their own.
The act of “designing” always aims to win in a specific form of competition. For example, subjecting a child to systematic, high-intensity training so that they may become a great athlete in the future is an attempt to increase their chances of success in the competition known as sports. Using biotechnology to increase a child’s height is also a type of effort to secure an advantageous position for the child in a society that values physical appearance. Thus, the act of design stems from the desire to win in competition and the aspiration for achievement. Some might counter, “Can’t biotechnology promote human welfare?” For example, suppose biotechnology has advanced to the point where it can significantly improve everyone’s eyesight. In that case, almost no one would refuse the benefits of such technology. In this scenario, the act of design appears unrelated to the issue of winning or losing in competition. However, underlying this choice is the belief that “good eyesight is more advantageous for living life,” and, furthermore, the mindset that “if possible, it is better to possess abilities superior to those of others.” In other words, every action with a practical purpose falls within the scope of the concept of “design” and is ultimately linked to the desire to secure an advantageous position in competition.
Earlier, I defined an act of design as one that does not contain reflection on the fear that death evokes in humans. I also examined how such acts manifest the desire and ambition to conquer the world. In response, someone might ask, “Why should ordinary parents—who are not saints—live their lives reflecting on death?” This argument is certainly persuasive. Living a life of planning and research for the future in order to win in competition can sometimes make us temporarily forget the fact that we will all die someday. However, the event of death remains an enigma that is never truly resolved until a person actually faces it. Actions taken to achieve practical goals cannot provide an answer to this fundamental question. Parents who seek to “design” their children might respond, “That is merely a difference in worldview.” However, whether or not one reflects on the fear evoked by death is not simply a matter of values. It is a question tied to whether humans can live more meaningfully in the world and lead more desirable lives. It is often said that the subject and the object are closely intertwined, like a Möbius strip. Living with the desire to win in competition can indeed bring a sense of happiness and accomplishment when one succeeds. However, lurking beneath the surface is the anxiety and compulsion that one could lose at any moment. Furthermore, every human being lives with the possibility that the subject could become the object, or the object could become the subject, at any time. The act of designing cannot change the fact that humans are destined to die. Moreover, the act of designing does not stem from insight into life and death, but rather from a desire for conquest and ambition.
Therefore, rather than designing everything and living a life of constant comparison, it would be more desirable to use the event of death as an opportunity to reflect on life. Instead of being consumed by competition and the need to compare, constantly trying to remodel one’s life, it is more important to imbue one’s own life and death with deeper meaning. For this reason, it is not desirable for parents to “design” their children. This is not merely an issue confined to the parent-child relationship but applies to all acts of design undertaken by humans. In summary, the act of designing presupposes competition and causes humans to become absorbed in the desire to win and the spirit of conquest. This process does not sufficiently incorporate reflection on death. Therefore, rather than adding profound and fulfilling meaning to human life, the act of designing can actually devastate it.
