国产传媒

Written by Wanda Teays, Acting Director of the Bioethics Certificate Program

Contagion is perfect for doing Bioethics. It has a strong plot driven by a riveting ethical dilemma: how to allocate medical resources and distribute medicine and supplies on a massive (national) scale while seeking the source and cure for a highly contagious, devastating virus. To avert widespread chaos, the crisis required the police, the Army, and other security personnel who didn’t go into hiding. As we saw with the nuclear accidents at Chernobyl and Fukushima, only the most self-sacrificing can be counted on when there is a high probability of death.

Contagion starts with a businesswoman, Beth Emhoff, who goes on a business trip to Hong Kong, leaving her family in Minneapolis. A photo op with a chef who had blood on his hands set the pandemic in motion. One touch was all it took. Beth picked up the virus and spread it to just about everyone she touched. Within a matter of days, it was carried around the world. Sound familiar? One death after another quickly alerts the CDC (Centers for Disease Control) and WHO (World Health Organization) that they’re facing a major health crisis. Major stress! “Where is the government?” you ask. Well, they aren’t out there talking to their constituents; that much we know. Until the coast is clear, the leaders have gone underground. We can’t count on them to do more than pass along their advice—or prayers.

Blogger Alan Krumwiede is quick to pounce on a business venture. That he is dishonest is lamentable. His ruse of having an antidote persuaded many people to skip taking the actual vaccine. Alan’s blog and videos reach a growing audience. Fear fuels a distrust of authorities on the part of the public. As time goes by and the number of deaths escalates, fears erupt into violence. With visions of dollar signs floating inside his head, Alan pretends to have been sick and magically “cured” by something he called Forsythia. You can bet everyone wants to get their hands on it and, so, the money rolls in. Widespread panic is often good for business and this situation was no different.

Given Forsythia is ineffective and most who are infected soon die, there is little chance of accountability. Eventually Alan has to deal with the authorities. There’s an ethical theory that describes his morality—and that’s Ethical Egoism. Ethical Egoists share the view that ethical decision鈥恗aking should be guided by a cost–benefit assessment in which end goals rule. Intentions or means are a distant second.

Their top priority is self鈥恑nterest. The interests of others would only be factored into moral reasoning if there would be some personal payoff. If I don’t stand to gain from helping you, then, “Hasta la vista, baby!” I will help you if it’s to my advantage, but only then.

Dr. Ellis Cheever of the CDC is a Teleological Ethicist, but not an Egoist. Cheever wants very badly to address the crisis and find a cure. He regrets having dispatched researcher Dr. Ellen Mears to Minneapolis, where she dies in a futile attempt to find the source of the virus. And yet, when the chips are down, Cheever does not put the public’s welfare above all else. He uses his power to protect those closest to him. He is an Ethical Relativist.

Although he seeks to maximize good, Cheever’s moral focus narrows dramatically in a crucial scene. When it’s clear that the pandemic is spreading and no cure is in sight, a decision is made to quarantine Chicago. Cheever learns of this plan before it is made public. At that point he shows his “true colors.” The very principle that all people should be treated equally is tossed to the winds, in favor of personal loyalties. Cheever phones his fiancé. “I want you to get in your car and leave Chicago. I want you to drive to Atlanta, drive by yourself. You do it. You do it now. Don’t tell anyone and don’t stop. And stay away from other people. You understand? Keep your distance from other people. Now, call me when you’re on the road, Aubrey.”

He tells her two things: One, to get the hell out of Chicago and come to Atlanta (where the CDC and Cheever are). Two, tell no one. Of course, we all know that no one keeps secrets (or not for long)! And sure enough, Aubrey calls her friend. Cheever’s actions may seem as natural as lions guarding their cubs against a predator, but that doesn’t make it commendable as a moral principle. “Choose for the benefit of the group (community, culture, gang, collection of those we love the most) over all else—even if it requires a personal sacrifice.” Acting on that moral principle nearly cost Cheever his job.

Laurence Fishburne, who played the role of Cheever, commented on his decision to alert Aubrey about the quarantine. In his view, this is a normal human response to a life–death situation. Perhaps, but not certainly the case. Furthermore, the fact many people would do the same does not justify it. We should pay heed to the ad Populum (= Bandwagon) fallacy that argues we should do this or that just because that would be what the majority of people would do under the circumstances.

Cheever’s phone call to Aubrey is overhead by Roger, the building janitor. Roger knows the disadvantages of being working class. And he knows that he and his boy won’t get preferential treatment any time soon. He can see that Cheever did not operate with the view of “All for one and one for all” or “I have a moral duty to treat everyone equally.” No. His relativistic ethics were laid bare.

Drs. Ellen Mears and Leonora Orantes are of similar moral ilk. Each one puts others’ interests above her own and strives to do all she can to stop the spread of the virus. In a similar vein, Dr. Orantes of the World Health Organization puts herself in harm’s way. Having been held hostage in a Chinese village, she won’t be party to deception in order to get released. When she discovers the villagers were given a placebo, she heads back to the village. She wants nothing to do with such thinking, such values. Both of these women take risks for the good of society. Helping others is in the forefront of their minds. From a strict Utilitarian perspective, sacrificing a minority to benefit the majority is morally acceptable. No problem!

Taking the notion of personal sacrifice one step further, researcher Dr. Ally Hextall injects herself with a mutated strain from one of the lab monkeys. She becomes her own human subject to find a vaccine. This self鈥恠acrifice, a social good, would get Hextall a Utilitarian salute, even if it might horrify others. Although the Nuremberg Code might commend her doing so, later codes, such as the Helsinki Declaration, omit this as a moral obligation. Nevertheless, Dr. Hextall’s willingness to be her own experimental subject could be a welcome breakthrough—if she succeeds. Otherwise, her self-sacrifice would be for naught. In contrast, Alan Krumwiede’s attempts to profit with his fake “cure” has only his interests at heart, not the good of society as a whole. His exploitation of others’ fears is indicative of his moral shortcoming.

Contagion is a great film for looking at ethical decision-making. It shows us characters who react to global health crises in a variety of ways, with some trying to turn it into a money鈥恗aking venture, some trying to protect their loved ones, and others risking everything to save lives. The values spectrum is striking.