Moral enhancement might be viewed as the latest chapter in a philosophical narrative spanning the twentieth century. In the shadow of eugenics – with its attempt to improve humanity through biological selection and the possibilities offered by genetic engineering – moral enhancement further intensifies the debate by suggesting new avenues for transformation aimed at fostering superior ethical dispositions. Discussions about using biotechnology to shape or enhance human morality have always demanded ongoing dialogue among science, philosophy, politics, and public life. On the one hand, the prospect of reducing violence, greed, and other forms of social unrest through pharmacological or genetic interventions appears to address urgent global crises – from climate change to nuclear proliferation, all the way to systemic inequalities that threaten the very stability of our societies. On the other hand, there is growing concern that these same tools might compromise (or even erode) aspects many consider the core of morality, such as autonomy, dignity, and freedom of choice.
This clash of perspectives draws on a broad range of philosophical traditions: rationalist approaches emphasize personal autonomy and moral principles, while more empirically grounded or emotionally oriented theories underscore the essential role played by passions and the unconscious. In the international sociopolitical context, such questions become even more pressing: for instance, how could global powers ensure that moral bioenhancement is not exploited by authoritarian regimes as a coercive tool or used to gain competitive advantages in societies already torn by deep divisions? Conversely, would outright rejection of all biotechnological solutions – even if cautiously regulated – amount to shirking our responsibilities in the face of emergencies that exceed the scope of traditional ethical-civic education?
Within the current philosophical debate on human “enhancement,” a dedicated space has opened up for reflection on improving morality through biotechnological means. In this light, many voices recognize that the limits of our moral dispositions could threaten the survival not only of societies but perhaps even the human species. Thus, the notion of “moral bioenhancement” emerges: interventions aimed at the biological underpinnings of emotions, prosocial inclinations, and, to some extent, our capacity for moral judgment, in hopes of mitigating phenomena such as aggression, extreme selfishness, or blind competition for limited resources.
Galletti’s proposal in The Morality Pill: The Ethics of Moral Enhancement is framed as an attempt to weigh the risks and benefits of such interventions. From the Introduction onward, the author makes clear what is at stake, using references – exemplified by a citation from A Clockwork Orange (p. 12) – to show that the tension between collective security and individual freedom is not only a literary trope but also a fundamental dilemma of modern societies. If science enabled us to reduce individual tendencies toward violence or to strengthen certain “positive” moral dispositions, would that really amount to ethical progress? Or would we risk undermining the genuine autonomy of conscience and sliding into forms of control that could become totalitarian?
Attempting to answer such questions first requires an understanding of what it means to “enhance human beings”. In the first chapter, Galletti provides all the necessary definitions, offering a concise yet precise distinction between “therapy” – understood as restoring a condition regarded as normal – and “enhancement,” i.e., the drive toward abilities or traits that exceed ordinary levels (p. 14). He blurs the dividing line between “repairing” and “improving,” noting that many therapeutic acts modify the human condition beyond mere normalization. While in many cases the boundary between therapy and enhancement remains ambiguous, the matter becomes even more complex when it touches on the moral fabric: which parameters of “normality” are we referring to? And who decides which traits ought to be enhanced or, conversely, curbed?
In the second chapter, which deals with the evaluation of moral bioenhancement, Galletti points out that “It […] seems particularly complex to understand what the goal of moral bio-enhancement should be. […] to obtain moral bioenhancement, do we have to act on virtues, sympathetic dispositions, and reason? And which kind? And what kind of reason? The one that calculates the utility produced by alternative actions, the one that universalises the norms and reasons that one wants to adopt in order to act, or the practical reasoning that is part of the model of virtues?” (p. 44). Having presented the conflict among three established philosophical paradigms – Humean sentimentalism, Kantian rationalism, and Aristotelian virtue ethics – Galletti emphasizes how today’s landscape grows even more intricate due to empirical data from research on the biological foundations of morality. Updating the conversation with references to authors such as Joshua Greene (p. 40), he stresses that recent neuroscientific findings open up a wide spectrum of perspectives on enhancement: increasing one’s capacity for empathy might make people more altruistic, but an excess of empathy could lead to unmanageable vulnerability or overwhelming “compassionate” anxiety. Conversely, focusing on cognitive enhancement might heighten clarity in moral reasoning, but not necessarily the motivation to do good. Galletti thus shows how delicate these boundaries are and how every step toward a “morality pill” demands an integrated analysis of both the affective and rational dimensions.
It is not “merely” the question of what to enhance that kindles debate; one of the hottest topics concerns the impact moral bioenhancement might have on individual freedom. In the third chapter, after scrutinizing the concept of “liberty,” Galletti explores whether and to what extent an “external” improvement of our moral tendencies could undermine personal autonomy and responsibility. Citing Harris’s “freedom to fall” (p. 59), he suggests that the danger lies in manipulations that rob the agent of the option to choose evil, effectively turning them into a sort of “virtuous automaton.” References to authors such as Persson and Savulescu are especially relevant here, as they posit that, given the hazards of modern times and the inertia of voluntary actions in a democratic context, only a “coercive” enhancement of altruism can avert scenarios of global destruction. Galletti then examines one of the most provocative sections of the text: Persson and Savulescu’s God Machine, a hypothetical device that prevents immoral actions by modifying people’s thoughts in real time, without the agent being conscious of it (from p. 60). For Galletti, this illustrates the paradox of a freedom without choice, where an individual is “freed” from evil yet alienated from their own agency. He cautions those aiming for a humanity incapable of wrongdoing not to overlook the ethical consequences of such a scenario: in a society where evil is prevented because moral agents effectively lose the capacity to choose, would ethical action not lose its very meaning?
Finally, the fourth chapter surveys widespread objections and considers moderate formulas for enhancement. Here, Galletti brings biotechnological intervention into conversation with traditional moral education, arguing that a “soft” use of pharmacological or neurological interventions to boost attention, reflection, and impulse control could be integrated with character formation via social and cultural processes. In his view, discussing “soft enhancement” means not claiming to resolve every moral conflict with a single pill but, rather, employing neuroscientific advances coherently with the principles of precaution and respect for autonomy. Using the example of ADHD medication (from p. 76), Galletti advocates a moderate approach that does not seek to impose moral choices but rather creates a reflective space in which the agent can exercise judgment. Referencing studies by the psychologist Singh involving children with ADHD, the author argues that methylphenidate might not replace autonomy but could actually facilitate deliberation by tempering impulses that interfere with practical rationality. Galletti proposes an indirect form of enhancement, in which the medication is not a «“mechanical act” (a pill to solve a problem)» but rather something that «do not directly affect moral cognition, moral motivation or moral dispositions, but indirectly facilitate the exercise of the individual’s intuitive capacities, allowing them to act more autonomously» (p. 79).
Galletti’s proposal is compelling, both because it stands as a moderate alternative within the ongoing discourse on moral enhancement and because it strives for the active and continuous involvement of the moral agent.
Beyond the wealth of sources and the clarity with which he depicts the various intellectual pathways that shaped the idea of moral bioenhancement, Galletti deftly navigates contemporary philosophical stances and recent empirical findings on the brain and human conduct. The text maintains an academic tone intended for readers with some philosophical background, yet it avoids being excessively technical or specialized. Galletti strikes a middle course, distancing himself both from a bioconservative realism that views enhancement as a threat to the “essence” of humanity and from a technocratic optimism that envisions delivering humanity from suffering via genetic manipulation. While he does not deny the legitimacy of moral enhancement – acknowledging possible benefits in cases of extreme risk or social emergencies – he warns against the illusion that a “morality pill” could be a swift technical fix for normative and relational issues. Consequently, the book pairs well with authors like Habermas, who worries about the erosion of shared symbolic horizons in a technocratic society, and Sandel, who warns of “despair” in the face of human limits. At the same time, it resonates with Persson and Savulescu’s argument for a near “forced” moral improvement to counter planetary threats, presenting an analysis that does not shy away from the central question: is a world with less freedom but greater security preferable, or one that remains perilous while fully preserving our moral autonomy?
The Morality Pill offers a stimulating synthesis of the challenges and dilemmas that moral bioenhancement poses. Moreover, Galletti does more than just survey existing positions; he embarks on a critical and open approach, mindful of the urgency of contemporary problems and the pitfalls of excessive technological faith. He clearly shows how radical routes (like large-scale enhancement mandated for everyone) risk devolving into forms of coercion at odds with the liberal ideal and with key principles of modern moral philosophy. At the same time, an outright distrust of all biotech interventions might appear shortsighted in light of current technological possibilities and pressing demands. Galletti calls for prudently integrating neuroscience and genetics with a moral education that remains sensitive to plural values and the safeguarding of choice. For him, the “soft” approach – employing modest pharmacological or genetic modifications alongside the cultivation of virtuous habits – constitutes the most viable path, yet one that necessitates continuous critical reassessment. Hence, there is no definitive solution, but rather a research agenda for an ethics that: acknowledges complexity (since morality is a multilayered phenomenon, irreducible to isolated biological traits), embraces vulnerability (because fragility is not an obstacle but a precondition for a genuinely human ethics), and challenges technocratic hubris (ensuring enhancement remains subordinate to ethical reflection, not a replacement for it). Indeed, the author’s true focus lies in exploring methods that «facilitate the exercise of the individual’s intuitive capacities, allowing them to act more autonomously» (p. 79).
All this leads the reader to pose fresh questions requiring further study. For instance, it would be worthwhile to investigate how different cultures and traditions might welcome (or reject) the idea of biological improvements to morality; likewise, one could delve deeper into political dimensions, asking whether there are institutional frameworks capable of regulating such practices without undermining autonomy or distributive justice. Moreover, is it possible to define a universal ethics (perhaps based on altruism and justice) upon which to base biomedical interventions? Or would any attempt at universalizing moral principles inevitably sideline alternative viewpoints? Lastly, might moral enhancement slide into a medicalization of ethics, ultimately serving as a tool for social control?
These last questions remain open in Galletti’s analysis, which is another strong point of the book: transforming the debate on moral enhancement into a laboratory of new inquiries. In a world where life sciences and philosophical reflection grow ever more inseparably intertwined, The Morality Pill is thus an excellent read for anyone wishing to engage with one of the freshest topics in moral discourse.
Francesca Guma
