Quotes from Charles Foster

Promiscuous animals, by and large, have smaller brains, for relationship demands a good deal of processing power, and promiscuity is a denial of relationship. Monogamy, as many of us know, is costly and hard: it demands work, though the pay-off can be profound. The work is often emotional work: give and take; forgiveness and forbearance.

Women have more Theory of Mind than men, which makes them nicer people – less prone to start wars or engage in egocentric monologues at the dinner table. There's no reason to restrict Theory of Mind to an ability to put oneself into another's shoes. It involves too an ability to put oneself into another's hoofs, pads or fins. Broadly, it is the ability to appreciate the interconnectedness of things –

When we walk into a wood, we share its sensory outputs (light, colour, smell, sound and so on) with all the other creatures there. But would any of them recognise our description of the wood? Every organism creates a different world in its brain. It lives in that world.

That sort of calculus is easy enough if the potential good is to unidentified people. It's easy to dismiss a faceless abstraction. It's much harder to look a real person in the eye and say: 'For my belief in the inviolability of the eight-cell embryo you must die.' That's often what the 'saviour sibling' cases boil down to.

If doctors as a whole aren't bound by a duty of confidentiality, patients generally will be less forthcoming, and the general confidence that the public reposes in the medical profession will be reduced.

The notion that Jesus, three days after his death, would arise alone—the firstfruits of the dead—was completely unprecedented in Jewish thought. It would never have occurred in the wildest dreams of the most eccentric first-century Jew. The only rational way to explain its appearance in the New Testament is that it actually happened.

Competency or capacity in relation to a particular decision is the ability to receive, weigh, process, and retain the relevant information. It also implies an ability to communicate the decision made once the information is processed. The words 'in relation to a particular decision' are crucial. Capacity is not an all-or-nothing thing. One might well have capacity for one decision but not for another.

If an advance decision has complied with any relevant formalities, was appropriately informed at the time it was made, applies to the relevant clinical circumstances, and if there is no indication that the patient might have decided differently were she to be able to make the decision himself as of now, the advance decision will be honoured, and quite right too. But there are many 'buts' here.

The doctor must disclose all 'material risks'. A risk is material when 'a reasonable person, in what the physician knows or should know to be the patient's position, would be likely to attach significance to the risk or cluster of risks in deciding whether or not to forgo the proposed therapy'. Only where disclosure of the risks would pose 'a serious threat of psychological detriment to the patient' could non-disclosure be justified.

There's nothing offensive about this pragmatism. The relationship between money and voluntariness is too complex to be summarized in one or even many paragraphs of a code. Most people wouldn't go to work if they weren't paid, and yet rarely is it suggested that there should be laws to stop them working. Workers in dangerous occupations tend to get paid more: again it is rarely suggested that compensation for risks is contrary to public policy.

There is an infinite amount of suffering in the world. There is a distinctly finite amount of resources to deal with it. How do we decide who gets what? The dilemmas are agonizing. One man's treatment is another man's denial of treatment. To save X is to condemn Y.

We tend to look at these problems through exclusively western, or at least narrowly national, eyes. About 40,000 children died today of hunger. Tens of thousands more died of malaria, and tens of thousands more of waterborne infectious diseases. Almost all of these were preventable. The money spent on a few heart transplants in elderly westerners would have saved almost all those lives.

Those procedures might include certification by independent practitioners that the patient was terminally ill within the meaning of the relevant law; that the patient had voluntarily requested euthanasia, having been fully informed of the prognostic and palliative facts; that there was no undue influence on the patient from relatives or carers; that there had been a 'cooling-off' period since the request for euthanasia; that the request was signed and duly witnessed; and so on.

It doesn't take much legal sleight of hand to transform an act into an omission and vice versa. If I starve a child to death by refusing to feed it, I should expect a frosty reception to my submission at my murder trial that I was only omitting to do something. And there are various thought experiments devised by philosophers that seek to indicate that there is no distinction of substance between acts and omissions.

First, they contend that compassion makes euthanasia morally mandatory. We wouldn't let our dog continue to scream for years with uncontrolled pain: we'd take it to the vet to be put down. Why should we deny to humans what basic decency makes us do to our dogs? And second, they emphasize autonomy. Our lives are our own, they say. We can decide what to do with them. If we choose to end them, that's our business.

Whether Jesus rose or not isn't affected by the brutality, chauvinism, or downright tediousness of his followers through the ages. It's a matter of mere history: the fact or fallacy of the resurrection is in the same class of alleged facts as the contention that the battle of Agincourt was fought in 1415, or that I caught the 0856 train this morning. And so it is subject to the same sort of historical inquiry.

All humans are Scheherazades: we die each morning if we don't have a good story to tell.