Analyzing and Synthesizing Opposing Arguments

Does Cloning Bring More Harm Than Good ?😯

     For most people, cloning is an idea of science fiction films and novels. However it is no longer an idea far beyond human capabilities, in fact, its practice is used more often than some might think. Despite this, there is enormous contention on the topic of cloning. There are three primary types of cloning that are heavily controversial among the public, religion, and even nations. These three types are recombinant DNA, therapeutic, and reproductive cloning (Driscoll 1). Therapeutic cloning is among the most controversial among the three. Therapeutic cloning is a process in which a human embryo is made from combining the DNA of whomever is being cloned with an unfertilized egg. Scientists then extract stem cells from the blastocyst-stage embryo to use for whatever purpose they may need (Ballaro 1). 

     The main problem that causes an enormous divide between all parties is the use of the embryo in the therapeutic cloning process. One side argues that the use of an embryo, which is in the early stages of life, is unethical and/or unnatural. The other side argues that ignoring the benefits of therapeutic cloning is potentially doing more harm to human life than good. This topic has had a lasting conflicting history dating back to 1996 to when a sheep named Dolly was the first successfully cloned animal ("The Life"). Both sides of the argument bring forth compelling evidence as to why therapeutic cloning is a controversial topic to approach, and also shine light on important questions for the future of this technology. 

 

"Dolly the Sheep (1996 - 2003)" by dun_deagh is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.

     When measuring the ethical validity of therapeutic cloning, it is important to mention the history behind it. When political or religious leaders speak on the subject of therapeutic cloning, the public can be easily persuaded, which can have a huge impact on the overall feeling on therapeutic cloning. For example in 1995, "Pope John Paul II argued that blastocysts, which, if fertilized, could potentially lead to the existence of a new human being, should not be used as research material"(Ballaro 3). In 2001, President Bush limited funding for stem cell research by only allowing usage on already existing stem cells, therefore banning any creation of new ones. Fast forward to 2005, the United Nations requested a ban on reproductive cloning, which is different from therapeutic cloning but the concept is still similar, and 46 countries instituted the ban. And then two years later, President Obama lifted the restriction on stem cell research placed by former president Bush which allowed the creation and research of stem cells (Driscoll 2). 

     What makes up most of the argument against therapeutic cloning is the inclusion of embryonic stem cells, which can only be obtained from early stage embryos. Such arguments base off the fact that embryos are sacred and that life begins at conception. Another argument against therapeutic cloning is that it places human kind one step closer to human cloning, which has already placed the public in a divide. According to Driscoll's article, less than 10% of Americans support human cloning, that leaves about 90% of Americans against human cloning. It is clear that the idea of cloning humans is out of the question for the majority of the public. In 2006, the FDA approved the use of cloned livestock but it is has been reported that the process is quite expensive. On top of that, cloned animals are significantly more prone to deformations, tumors, premature deaths, and miscarriages (Driscoll 3). The instability of cloning animals has no doubt led the public to questioning whether cloning should be allowed for human testing. 

     In march 2009, when president Obama lifted the ban on funding for stem cell research, this field has continued to grow and some deemed considerable advancements have occurred. This progress has led scientists to conclude that therapeutic cloning has potential to better human suffering. The only method available to scientist right now are to destroy or reuse embryonic cells through IVF (vitro fertilization) treatment. IVF treatment is when embryonic stem cell lines are derived from frozen embryos (Ballaro 3) . For therapeutic cloning, the cells are identical to the donor which means that "Stem cells have the promise of providing scientists with a renewable source of replacement cells that could potentially treat or even cure a host of neurological, cardiovascular, and hematological (blood) diseases"(Ballaro 2). Ballaro believes that "The moral good of potentially alleviating the suffering of human beings through stem cell therapy outweighs the ideal of preserving human life in its earliest phase of development." In other words, she believes there is an imbalance between saving and harming lives.

     In Driscoll's article, she brings up a monumental question that has been lingering over the entirety of the topic. In her article she states that "... this practice belongs to the multi-billion dollar biotech industry that stands to profit enormously from reproductive cloning." If the research for stem cells progresses overtime, this technology will eventually be refined and perfected. Due to this technology being in its early stages of life, the United States government has no protective regulations on reproductive cloning (Driscoll 3). Now, the critical question that Driscoll mentions in her article is "What are the potential consequences of big businesses owning such information?" This question will no doubt have to be answered in the future but shifts the view on the topic significantly.

     Another considerable argument made in Ballaro's article is the potential of saving human lives with the use of therapeutic cloning. She states that "Although scientists have been carrying out therapeutic cloning for less than a decade, stem cell-based therapies, delivered in the form of bone marrow and cord blood transplants, have already saved many lives." Ballaro points out that  stem cells have already began saving lives. Another argument supporting therapeutic cloning is that there is significant lack of research in this field. Ballaro suggests that more research is required before the topic is completely dismissed or deemed as inefficient. There is also recent advancements that suggest this whole topic won't even have to be discussed to begin with. In 2007, a group of scientists successfully generated new stem cells by using three embryos, and managed to place the embryos safely back into frozen storage. In that same year, scientists succeeded in reverting adult mouse cells back to stem cells (Ballaro 3). 

     It is clear that both arguments call for different needs but ultimately land on the same side of a belief. Driscoll advocates against cloning while Ballaro advocates for cloning, however these are both anchored in the belief that human life should be saved. The process of cloning may harm potential human life but save another life in the process. On the other hand, the process of cloning harms potential life and the process should be outlawed. In retrospect, both arguments call for the prevention of harm on human lives. This ultimately comes down to the overall question throughout the whole topic: Do the ends justify the means ?

WORKS CITED--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ballaro, Beverly, and Nancy Sprague. “Point: The Medical and Moral Advantages of Cloning.” Points of View: Cloning, Nov. 2022, pp. 2–6. EBSCOhost, search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&AuthType=ip,shib&db=pwh&AN=26611687&site=pov-live.

Driscoll, Sally, and Ann Griswold. “Counterpoint: Human Cloning Treats Human Life as a Commodity.” Points of View: Cloning, Nov. 2022, pp. 3–7. EBSCOhost, search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&AuthType=ip,shib&db=pwh&AN=26611685&site=pov-live.

“The Life of Dolly.” Dolly the Sheep, https://dolly.roslin.ed.ac.uk/facts/the-life-of-dolly/index.html.

Profile Essay

  

Behind the Scenes of Concrete😁

     It's a freezing Monday morning in late September, I wake up to the blaring sound of my alarm clock. I rub my eyes, yawn, scratch my head and finally hop out of bed to stretch. I check the time: 5:00 AM. Today would be my second week on the job as a concrete worker, and I wanted to be prepared for the long 9 hour shift. My boss, James B., had offered me a ride to work and I happily accepted. As a concrete worker, we were always moving and shifting to new locations near Atlanta, which would usually be an hour and ten minute drive. Every squad in the company  would drive a white pickup truck with the logo neatly painted on the doors and in the back was an enormous metal bar frame holding a plethora of tools, hardware, and spare shoes and gloves. 

     "Vamanos! Lets go!" shouted my boss, waking me up from an unbelievably comfortable nap. This week was preparation week, meaning we had to prepare the site for the concrete that would be poured on Friday. Since the first day, I was told to partner with the other new guy and a crew of experienced workers. In the beginning, I had trouble fitting in, seeing as they had a work flow that I didn't quite get down at first. Naturally, I was tasked with the easy jobs like cleaning up and fetching supplies; I used that time to observe their efficiency and speed. However, after the first week, I was already getting involved with the more difficult tasks. 

     We started off by digging with shovels to level and clear the area in order to build the parameter for the area being covered in concrete. At first I thought to myself that this seemed too easy but I would later find out that digging could last a couple hours. "Dylan! come over here." my boss said with a quick and loud whistle. I ran over to him and he told me to fetch a couple more shovels for the guys who had arrived late. After grabbing a couple more shovels, I started digging. I could already feel the soreness settling in, the heat on my back, and my whole body sweating profusely. Refreshments were such a huge necessity that we had a dedicated cooler filled with waters and drinks buried in a pile of ice. Injuries were incredibly common at the work site, so it was mandatory for workers to follow strict uniform requirements. This would include a bright neon colored shirt, jacket, or vest, a hard hat, safety glasses, and gloves. I never thought laying concrete could be so dangerous, but I noticed that it was often preparations that caused the most injury. The clock struck 12:00 PM and it was finally time for lunch. It was common to bring home-made food among some workers however, there were always delicious Mexican restaurants around the corner from the work site; this was always our crew's go-to spot. It was always so difficult coming back to work with a full stomach, but for others it was just the refill of energy they needed. For the last four hours, we went back to shoveling, my arms and legs getting weaker with every motion. 

     Every time I looked around, everyone always had something to do, whether it was small task like sweeping the unfinished hallways of any dust, or soldering pieces of heavy metal onto the roof. Most of the men here were around the age of thirty to sixty and seemed to have about one to two years of experience judging by their callus covered hands and somewhat muscular build. A lot of the work around the site required that you be able to lift around twenty pounds easily, however for my crew it seemed like the minimum requirement was a hundred pounds. We had to lift long iron bars, metal plates and piles of wooden planks on nothing but our backs. "I started working in concrete when I was seventeen, by the time I was twenty I could handle pretty much anything..." responded James B. to a question I asked about his involvement in the company.

     Friday had finally come around and I was excited to pour the concrete. Compared to everything else, pouring concrete was the easiest part of the job. A few days beforehand, I had asked around the crew to find out what their opinion was on pouring concrete. "It's not easy, make sure you bring your rubber boots." warned Eduardo, a thirty-seven year old man from Mexico. "Make sure you're extremely careful." Said Elias, a forty-six year old man from Texas.            

    Once we arrived at the site, it was almost instant. Like firemen responding to the the fire alarm, getting ready in a minutes notice. I rushed to put on my boots, grabbed a concrete spreader, and began jogging. From a distance, I could see a series of long thick tubes connected to a large cement truck. The thick tubes transported the hot concrete to the area it was being poured. Only strong crew members could be in charge of maneuvering the tube using a metal hook to guide the tube around the area. It was extremely heavy; and later on I got the opportunity to pick up one of the disassembled tube pieces. When concrete is first poured, it is essentially a liquid, which then must be quickly spread and applied to the required area. "Imagine concrete as a hot wax" says James B., who is one of the leading managers at Concrete Works, LLC. The workers spread the concrete from the source evenly throughout the specified area with their concrete placers, which is needed for two reasons: the concrete is extremely hot once its' poured and it is also extremely heavy. We also have to wear rubber boots, similar to the ones worn when splashing in puddles, to reduce the surface area of our feet exposed to hot concrete and to allow for easier traversal. A group of one or more workers are in charge of leveling out height of the concrete by dragging a large, long rectangular metal bar along the whole area. "We need to use the concrete wisely, and the bar is essential to keeping the floor even and level." says James B. Another problem when pouring concrete is the air bubbles trapped inside, and this could lead to structural weaknesses once it has been dried and cured. To prevent this, another group of workers are tasked with running a concrete vibrator along the sides of the area to make the concrete more malleable near the bottom allowing the concrete to sink to the bottom filling in any small empty spaces.

"Concrete pouring" by H. Raab (User:Vesta) is licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0.

     After the pouring was complete, we all grabbed our concrete floats for the first stage of the process. We were all meticulous in our movements, we had to make the surface of the concrete look uniform and without imperfections like small craters on the surface or small inconsistencies with the horizontal level. About 15 minutes of back and fourth leveling, we changed tools to adjust to the stiffness of the concrete using concrete trowels instead of floats. Often the concrete would still have small craters the size of a crumb, called surface voids. These surface voids are the perfect examples of small imperfections affecting the overall structural integrity of the concrete. Too many surface voids in or on the concrete will often lead to the project being wasted resulting in wasted money and time. ( "How Can" ). Another problem that could affect the concrete was unforeseen weather. This happened around three times, and in almost every instance our progress would be ruined. Concrete with too much water will dilute the mixture resulting in a gray aqueous soup that would no longer have the property of hardening. This was especially frustrating for my boss because he was in charge of scheduling a concrete mixer. James B. comments, "Any mistake is incredibly costly, so I make sure that everyone knows exactly what their job is." 

     Concrete is found virtually anywhere you look, ranging from small sidewalks and homes all the way up to buildings and skyscrapers. Its versatility is one of the many reasons why it's so widely used: "basic foundation, parking lot structures, superstructures, floor construction..." just to name a few ("How"). And the concrete did not grow there, it had to be placed, molded, designed, and then cured. During my time working here, my view on concrete had completely changed. There were sometimes weeks if not months, depending on the size, of preparation for the concrete, and after pouring you still have to spend a few extra days just to cure the concrete. As a worker, time moved incredibly slow. Shoveling would last hours but it would feel like days, and building the mold for the concrete felt exactly the same. So next time you see safety cones placed around wet cement, ensure that you do not let your pet or yourself accidentally step on the concrete, because that could be hours of a worker's life thrown away. 😑

“How Is Concrete Used in Construction Projects: Esub.” ESUB Construction Software,https://esub.com/blog/how-is-concrete-used-in-construction-projects/. (accessed 03-29-2023)

“How Can I Eliminate Surface Voids in Concrete?” Smooth, https://www.smooth-on.com/(accessed 03-29-2023)

James B., personal communications, March 14, 2023

Remembering an Event

     

Letting her Down

      In middle school, my social studies/language arts teacher, Ms. Ava, would hold an art competition every time we finished a section for social studies. And I remember seeing these abstract, colorful, and unique interpretations from every student put down onto one piece of paper. For the artsy students, this was one of the most exciting days at school, I certainly remember my facial expressions every time this occasion came around. A cheeky grin from ear to ear, my mind racing exuberantly a million miles a minute with ideas for my new artwork. The first place winner would receive a king-sized Hershey's chocolate bar, and second and third would both receive a regular sized chocolate bar. Once the art pieces were submitted, my teacher would hang them outside the classroom and call each student in pairs to vote on their favorite one. I had gotten first place back to back through out the school year. Naturally, I had become one of her favorite students, not only because of the art competition, but also for being well-behaved. I was proud of what I had accomplished and it made me feel that much more special knowing I would never let Ms. Ava down. 

     It was finals week at Crews Middle School, and I had been studying diligently to ace all of my exams. Not only was it finals week but it was also the last week of school. Once this week had arrived I noticed a strong yet relieved aura emanating from each kid around the school. Metaphorically, we had reached the finish line for the school year, however in actuality I'm positive each and every kid felt more as if they'd been unchained, no longer a prisoner to this schools exhausting grasp. I remember vividly each night, making piles of flashcards stacking miles high, and having a warm cup of coffee on standby in case I felt the creeping cold fog of sleep. I woke up each morning feeling groggy from lack of sleep, but I endured knowing that this week would open up the large golden door to a beautiful 2 month long vacation uninterrupted by class and early morning fatigues. I counted every minute of every hour of every day, the excitement of summer was so irresistible that my impatience had far outgrown my determination. However, I endured these feelings and kept my rhythm for each day, but perhaps my feelings of impatience had caused me to be too careless. 

     Before I realized it, I was on the bus, mind hazy and this enormous weight on my eye lids. The soft hiss of the pressure mechanism opened the bus door slowly. I wearily stood up from my seat, walked off the bus, and into the cold morning air. After 3 minutes of an exhausting walk, I had finally arrived at Ms. Ava's classroom. I plopped down in my chair, pulling out my pencil from my pocket and waiting for Ms. Ava to announce when we would be starting the first of two exams that day. Eventually everyone seemed to be sat at their tables and ready to go, Ms. Ava taking notice, handed out pencils and scratch paper to anyone who needed it. And lastly, she took out a stack of paper the width of a brick and handed everyone their copy of the exam. I furrowed my brow with determination, put my exhaustion aside, and began to read. After an hour and ten minutes of grueling focus, I immediately put my head down and closed my eyes. Ms. Ava collected the papers after the allotted time, and everyone was free to enjoy their 10 minute break before the last exam. I had grouped up with one of my friends, James, and discussed our individual answers on the exam. I had noticed he left his blank scratch paper out on his desk and decided to doodle on it. Often times, we would draw phallic-shaped figures disguised as something innocent like a farmer with a really big nose. And this time was no different, so we both began our little match of who could be the most clever. After a couple minutes of frivolous drawing, we both agreed to get rid of the evidence by tearing up the page into what we thought were a million little pieces. I looked at James and asked worriedly, " That should be good enough right?" he responded confidently, "You'd have to be Sherlock Holmes to put these pieces back together." 

     After that, the whole classroom lined up to leave for the last and final exam. James and I walked out the room and lined up to the class next door, which was where our next exam would take place. I was chatting with James in line about his plans for summer, when suddenly I heard a shout with such anger and authority that it froze the whole hallway with awe and concern. "Dylan and James come down here right now!" My heart started pounding rapidly and my knees felt weak with fear, it was as if I'd realized I had no parachute after diving head first off an airplane soaring millions of miles off the ground. I turned around; it was Ms. Ava and I could see her death stare shooting right through me, knowing exactly why. Not wanting to prolong this stare-down any longer, I shamefully walked forward with James following behind me. She took us into her classroom and sharply pointed to a small torn up piece of paper that I quickly recognized. I could see visible anger and frustration on her face. At the time, I was too fear-stricken to notice but deep down under the frustration I could see a faint look of disappointment and betrayal. Up until this point, I had only heard positive things said to me from Ms. Ava, and expectedly I felt this overwhelming, rushing wave of guilt. I was instructed to go to the administrators office after finishing my last exam.

     From then on until I went to the administrators office, my mind was a hurricane of paranoia and fears about the possibilities of punishment. After barely completing my last exam, I slowly headed towards the administrators office, each step getting ten times heavier as I got closer. While on my walk to the office I thought to myself," Could a small drawing really get me into this much trouble? What will Ms. Ava think of me now?" I walked into the small confined office with two brown leather chairs and the administrators black square office desk. She casually looked up from her laptop and asked me to explain to her what had just transpired. I spilled the whole story in detail occasionally pausing from the trouble I had swallowing after each sentence. After hearing my explanation she calmly said," Well, you will have you call your mother and tell her exactly what you told me." A small but refreshing feeling of relief washed over me. I had imagined detention or in school suspension, but calling my mom was just as worrying. After I calmly explained to my mom, she told me I would have to come talk to her once I returned home. After I hung up and returned to my classroom, all I could think about was what had just happened and how sudden it was. This wasn't my first time getting sent to the office, but the look of betrayal from Ms. Ava's face was burned into my memory along with the heart-pounding event. For the most part all my worries had quietly faded away but my shame and guilt still resided. I got home and my mom gave me the lightest slap on the wrist for getting in trouble at school, and I went on to enjoy my summer worry free. For the remainder of my middle school years I still felt guilt passing by Ms. Ava's old classroom, and still pondered on whether or not she had forgiven me. 

Picture Citation:

"SDA classroom" by bagaball is licensed under CC BY 2.0.