The weird ethics of super soldiers

Why war is different.

The Lance Armstrong scandal and subsequent revelations of widespread doping in professional cycling laid waste to the sport’s credibility and public reaction was clear enough - doping is cheating and cheating is wrong. But does this ethic hold true in all situations? Could the advantage Armstrong sought, judged as bitterly unfair in the sporting world, be applicable in the context of modern warfare?

War is a thoroughly unique circumstance. If soldiers are tasked with defending a perceived greater good against an oppressor, should every avenue to gain an advantage be explored? And could this ethically extend to furthering the physical limits of human beings?

The US Department of Defense’s shadowy research agency DARPA has long been interested in boosting performance through biochemical means, with its Peak Soldier Performance Programme established to explore ways in which soldiers could operate in the field for up to five days without requiring sustenance. In pursuit of this, no genome was left unturned.

The ethical ground upon which DARPA stand was summed up very clearly by one official who informed Wired that the goal was not to create Supermen, but to make it so that “these kids could perform at their peak, stay at their peak, and come home to their families.” This isn’t so much an issue of overpowering an opponent, as much as it is one of getting soldiers home, safe and sound.

The ethical dilemma posed by boosting a soldier’s capabilities was even discussed within a 2003 report produced by the office of US President George W. Bush. "Biotechnology and the Pursuit of Happiness" explored several ways in which so-called super-soldiers could be produced, and how far the ethical argument in support of such developments could stretch.

“What guidance, if any, does our analysis provide for such moments of extreme peril and consequence… when superior performance is a matter of life and death?” the report questioned, concluding that “there may indeed be times when we must override certain limits or prohibitions that make sense in other contexts.”

A line has, however, been drawn, placing great importance on the notion of “men remaining human even in moments of great crisis.” Alluding to the development of supplements suppressing soldiers’ fear and inhibition, effectively converting them to killing machines capable of acting without both scrutiny and impunity, the US Department of Defense is seemingly unwilling to venture as far as creating submissive super-humans.

Pumping a warfighter full of steroids and supplements raises all kinds of connotations and images of seven-foot tall behemoths rampaging around a battlefield, with nothing but a trail of wanton destruction in their wake. An arms race for the modern era, US soldiers could soon be enjoying the same kind of physical advantage Armstrong held over his opponents, with all too familiar results.

The ethical debate raises several legitimate concerns regarding the enhancement of man’s physical limits and retaining principles of humanity, but the arguments Armstrong’s opponents used cannot be replicated for the unique context of war. If the greater good is indeed at stake, surely each and every feasible advantage should be explored?

Read more here.

Photograph: Getty Images

Liam Stoker is the aerospace and defence features writer for the NRI Digital network.

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The footie is back. Three weeks in and what have we learned so far?

Barcleys, boots and big names... the Prem is back.

Another season, another reason for making whoopee cushions and giving them to Spurs fans to cheer them up during the long winter afternoons ahead. What have we learned so far?

Big names are vital. Just ask the manager of the Man United shop. The arrival of Schneiderlin and Schweinsteiger has done wonders for the sale of repro tops and they’ve run out of letters. Benedict Cumberbatch, please join Carlisle United. They’re desperate for some extra income.

Beards are still in. The whole Prem is bristling with them, the skinniest, weediest player convinced he’s Andrea Pirlo. Even my young friend and neighbour Ed Miliband has grown a beard, according to his holiday snaps. Sign him.

Boots Not always had my best specs on, but here and abroad I detect a new form of bootee creeping in – slightly higher on the ankle, not heavy-plated as in the old days but very light, probably made from the bums of newborn babies.

Barclays Still driving me mad. Now it’s screaming from the perimeter boards that it’s “Championing the true Spirit of the Game”. What the hell does that mean? Thank God this is its last season as proud sponsor of the Prem.

Pitches Some groundsmen have clearly been on the weeds. How else can you explain the Stoke pitch suddenly having concentric circles, while Southampton and Portsmouth have acquired tartan stripes? Go easy on the mowers, chaps. Footballers find it hard enough to pass in straight lines.

Strips Have you seen the Everton third kit top? Like a cheap market-stall T-shirt, but the colour, my dears, the colour is gorgeous – it’s Thames green. Yes, the very same we painted our front door back in the Seventies. The whole street copied, then le toot middle classes everywhere.

Scott Spedding Which international team do you think he plays for? I switched on the telly to find it was rugby, heard his name and thought, goodo, must be Scotland, come on, Scotland. Turned out to be the England-France game. Hmm, must be a member of that famous Cumbrian family, the Speddings from Mirehouse, where Tennyson imagined King Arthur’s Excalibur coming out the lake. Blow me, Scott Spedding turns out to be a Frenchman. Though he only acquired French citizenship last year, having been born and bred in South Africa. What’s in a name, eh?

Footballers are just so last season. Wayne Rooney and Harry Kane can’t score. The really good ones won’t come here – all we get is the crocks, the elderly, the bench-warmers, yet still we look to them to be our saviour. Oh my God, let’s hope we sign Falcao, he’s a genius, will make all the difference, so prayed all the Man United fans. Hold on: Chelsea fans. I’ve forgotten now where he went. They seek him here, they seek him there, is he alive or on the stairs, who feckin’ cares?

John Stones of Everton – brilliant season so far, now he is a genius, the solution to all of Chelsea’s problems, the heir to John Terry, captain of England for decades. Once he gets out of short trousers and learns to tie his own laces . . .

Managers are the real interest. So refreshing to have three young British managers in the Prem – Alex Neil at Norwich (34), Eddie Howe at Bournemouth (37) and that old hand at Swansea, Garry Monk, (36). Young Master Howe looks like a ball boy. Or a tea boy.

Mourinho is, of course, the main attraction. He has given us the best start to any of his seasons on this planet. Can you ever take your eyes off him? That handsome hooded look, that sarcastic sneer, the imperious hand in the air – and in his hair – all those languages, he’s so clearly brilliant, and yet, like many clever people, often lacking in common sense. How could he come down so heavily on Eva Carneiro, his Chelsea doctor? Just because you’re losing? Yes, José has been the best fun so far – plus Chelsea’s poor start. God, please don’t let him fall out with Abramovich. José, we need you.

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 27 August 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Isis and the new barbarism