Special to the Herald-Leader

The Dr. Kervorkian of Human Cloning

Why does a Lexington fertility doctor have mainstream scientists quivering in their laboratory smocks?

by Martin Cothran

There is a generally held belief among journalists and policymakers that there is a debate among scientists over the issue of human cloning, but this belief is mistaken.  There is no scientific debate over whether to clone humans.

It doesn't exist.

At the middle of this non-existent debate is Panayiotis Michael Zavos, a Lexington, Kentucky reproductive specialist who wants to move ahead with his own human cloning project.  The only thing stopping Dr. Zavos from turning on the switch of his human assembly-line is the scientific establishment, which the public thinks disagrees with him.

The public thinks the scientific community disagrees with Dr. Zavos because it opposes him on an entirely different issue.  The scientific community does not disagree with Dr. Zavos on whether to clone humans; it disagrees with him on when to do it--and that is an entirely different matter, and one that should strike fear in the hears of the ethically attentive among us.

Dr. Zavos wants to proceed now; the scientific community wants to wait.  That is not a debate; that is a friendly disagreement over timing--or it would be friendly if not for one thing: Dr. Zavos himself.

As the news of Dr. Zavos' views on human cloning were being broadcast across the country, at least one newspaper became curious about the doctor's own background.  As it turns out, according to the Los Angeles Times, Dr. Zavos was fired from Central Baptist Hospital in Lexington seven years ago for "unethical and illegal behavior" having to do with what it suspected was the use of hospital resources for his own fertility business.

"If Dr. Zavos appears in the lab, please inform me and security immediately," said a hospital administrative memo. "Do not leave him alone in the lab for any reason."  Not exactly something most people would want in their personnel folders.

Other ethical and legal questions, according to the Times, involve his compliance with state law on surrogate parenthood, a rebuke from a judge for misusing the legal system, and a citation for "violating federal rules designed to protect people in medical research."  

What the scientific community is really scared of is that Dr. Zavos will become the poster boy for human cloning--which it wants to do anyway.  Scientists must be about as excited about Dr. Zavos becoming their spokesperson on cloning as the medical community was to have Dr. Kervorkian be their spokesman on end of life issues.

Kervorkian did more to harm the euthenasia movement than all of its opponents put together, and, in this respect, Zavos promises to be the Dr. Kervorkian of human cloning: an overly enthusiastic and ethically careless crusader who cares little for appearances.

Kervorkian embarrassed the medical community not only because of his eccentricities, but because of his iconoclastic attitude toward the medical community itself and its cherished public image.  This resulted in the almost comic spectacle of a physician travelling the country, engaged in the virtually unrestrained practice of so-called mercy killing (which extended even to some people who were suffering from depression), and a medical and legal establishment standing by virtually helpless because of its own ethical vacuity.

While the medical community had an ethical image to keep up, Kervorkian cared nothing for it.  The irony of the situation was that Kervorkian was a true believer: he was thoroughly convinced his cause was just.  The medical community on the other hand, was mired in moral doubt.  

Like Dr. Death, Zavos is a crusader with a cavalier attitude toward the societal consequences of his actions, but who is not at odds with the fundamental ethos of the scientific community.  Zavos is rather a public relations problem who threatens to upset what will have to be a carefully crafted marketing campaign to sell the public on this potentially lucrative new technology.

Whether Zavos becomes the cloning movement's own worst enemy remains to be seen.  What is certain is that the scientific establishment's ethical flaccidity is no match for the determination of Dr. Zavos.

"I'm willing to go to hell to get something done," Zavos told the L. A. Times, "if I believe it's the right thing to do."  Given his imposing scientific credentials, he will probably not have to go that far.  What Zavos seems bent on ignoring, however, are the implications of his own actions, which go far beyond his own human fertility business.  Like the splitting of the atom, the cloning of human life has serious and widespread human consequences.

Dr. Zavos has every right to go to hell to accomplish his purposes.  What he doesn't have the right to do is to drag the rest of us with him.

Martin Cothran is senior policy analyst with The Family Foundation of Kentucky, a nonprofit educational organization focusing on public policy issues affecting families.

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