The reader might also think "I'd never exploit a person that way!" And then they might ask "To what extent are my comforts dependent on other people being exploited in ways that harm their health or shorten their life? And to what extent do I think of certain other people as 'less than fully human' to justify this economic structure?"
Yes. I think that a lot of people find themselves in the position of Miss Emily (that *was* her name, right? I sent the book back to the library already and I'm terrible at hanging onto names!), thinking of themselves as allies to an exploited group, but only ever working to make that exploitation slightly more tolerable, rather than challenging its existence in the first place, either because it never occurs to them that it's POSSIBLE to challenge it, or because they think the weight of the social pressures and economic structures already in place make abolishing it impossible.
How different this story would have been if, instead of raising these children by gently coaxing them to be as fully human as possible while still accepting their ultimate exploitation, the school taught its charges how to stand up for their right to live a life of their own choosing.
Instead of gathering useless "evidence" that the clones had souls, if the school had simply started from the premise that OF COURSE they did, OF COURSE the idea that clones were soulless was simply a means of allowing society as a whole to exploit them without having to face the fact that they were murdering other humans, they could have given the children an education that would have fitted them with the skills to survive in the world outside of the narrow "protection" offered them if they trundled along like good sheep to the slaughter.
If the children had been seen as fully human, they could have been given an education that would have freed them to decide, and create, their own futures, instead of being forced to rely on what others thought was good for them (or at least necessary for them). Imagine if Miss Emily's goal had been not to stand as a protector and advocate for the children but, instead, to raise them in such a way as to make their "need" for protectors and advocates obsolete.
I think that in some ways, the most important questions in the book don't have to do with the ethics of raising humans as organ donors, but instead with the ethics of how we shape thought and expectation, our own and that of our children -- with what and how we choose to teach.
no subject
Yes. I think that a lot of people find themselves in the position of Miss Emily (that *was* her name, right? I sent the book back to the library already and I'm terrible at hanging onto names!), thinking of themselves as allies to an exploited group, but only ever working to make that exploitation slightly more tolerable, rather than challenging its existence in the first place, either because it never occurs to them that it's POSSIBLE to challenge it, or because they think the weight of the social pressures and economic structures already in place make abolishing it impossible.
How different this story would have been if, instead of raising these children by gently coaxing them to be as fully human as possible while still accepting their ultimate exploitation, the school taught its charges how to stand up for their right to live a life of their own choosing.
Instead of gathering useless "evidence" that the clones had souls, if the school had simply started from the premise that OF COURSE they did, OF COURSE the idea that clones were soulless was simply a means of allowing society as a whole to exploit them without having to face the fact that they were murdering other humans, they could have given the children an education that would have fitted them with the skills to survive in the world outside of the narrow "protection" offered them if they trundled along like good sheep to the slaughter.
If the children had been seen as fully human, they could have been given an education that would have freed them to decide, and create, their own futures, instead of being forced to rely on what others thought was good for them (or at least necessary for them). Imagine if Miss Emily's goal had been not to stand as a protector and advocate for the children but, instead, to raise them in such a way as to make their "need" for protectors and advocates obsolete.
I think that in some ways, the most important questions in the book don't have to do with the ethics of raising humans as organ donors, but instead with the ethics of how we shape thought and expectation, our own and that of our children -- with what and how we choose to teach.
(I'm enjoying this conversation, too! :D)