The Price of Perfection: Moral Enhancement, Free Will, and the Limits of Technological Salvation

Abstract

In 2017, Elon Musk stated that humans must augment their mental capabilities through the “merger of biological intelligence and machine intelligence” lest they risk becoming “house cats” to artificial intelligence. In 2024, he successfully implanted his “Neuralink” chip in a human patient. Now, while the idea of improving the human condition by integrating technology into the human body did not begin with Elon Musk, his tangible advancements in neural implants have shifted the ethical questions surrounding them from theoretical to practical. One particularly thorny application of this technology—one that raises both ethical and existential questions—is its use for moral enhancement. Ethically, we must consider whether it is good or bad to employ technology that ensures individuals act morally. Existentially, if human free will is expressed most meaningfully through moral choice, should we be willing to relinquish that freedom for the sake of social harmony, crime prevention, even world peace? Or must we accept a world marked by moral failure, violence, and injustice in order to preserve human autonomy? To address these questions, I examine contemporary philosophical debates surrounding moral enhancement and place them in dialogue with classical Jewish sources. For, as will be shown, Jewish thought offers a unique framework for addressing both the ethical permissibility of moral enhancement and the existential tension between free will and moral perfection. By juxtaposing cutting-edge neurotechnology with ancient moral anthropology, this paper invites a reassessment of what it means to be human in an age increasingly capable of reshaping human agency itself.

1. Introduction

In the future God will come and slaughter the evil inclination.

(Sukkah 52a)

Human beings have a problem—we sin. In philosophical terms, Immanuel Kant describes this as “the propensity of the will to maxims which neglect the incentives springing from the moral law in favor of others which are not moral” (Kant [1793] 1960, p. 25). Kant attributes this propensity to what he calls “radical evil,” which, as Richard Bernstein explains, “signifies the innate propensity of human beings to adopt evil maxims” (R. J. Bernstein 2002, p. 24). Jewish thought refers to this as “the evil inclination (yetzer hara),” and teaches that to reach the goal of creation—peace on earth—human beings must overcome it (lehitgaber al hayetzer)—that is, choose good and eschew evil.1

But what if we could “morally enhance” human beings through technology, engineer people to do the right thing? We could thus bring the world to its halcyon conclusion, wherein “the wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid” (Isa. 11:6)—metaphors for the peace and harmony that will ultimately reign.2 While such a question was not long ago the stuff of science fiction, advances in two distinct domains—biomedical interventions such as pharmacology and genetic engineering, and neuro-technologies such as neural implants and non-invasive brain stimulation—are transforming this philosophical thought experiment into a practical possibility.3

These advances in the practical realm have generated great interest in the theoretical realm, giving rise to a large and growing literature centered around the question of the moral propriety of moral enhancement.4 There are myriad ethical issues debated in the literature; however, this paper focuses on one that is foundational: the threat moral enhancement poses to free will, understood here as autonomy (the capacity for reflective, self-governed practical reasoning) and freedom (the capacity to act on one’s decisions without external constraint). To keep this issue in focus, I bracket several prominent debates by adopting the following assumptions:

• There is sufficient agreement about fundamental moral norms to specify what counts as moral improvement—that is, a workable moral consensus is attainable.5
• Everyone freely accepts its implementation, once proven of benefit to the individual and society, thus mitigating concerns of coercion.6
• The technology is tried and tested, works safely, precisely as intended and entails no unintended side-effects.7
• Enhancement is government-subsidized and available at no cost to all, thereby removing concerns that it would aggravate social divisiveness.8
• The technology will be government supported, ensuring that drugs or neural implants are not discontinued in the event of the producing corporation’s dissolution.9

These assumptions are made not to diminish their importance but to emphasize my central claim: even if these issues—and others besides (see, e.g., Kudlek 2022)—were fully resolved, the threat to autonomy and freedom would remain. I argue that these capacities are sacrosanct and thus, irrespective of how other issues are settled, moral enhancement remains morally impermissible.

It is important to note that by “moral enhancement” I refer solely to biotechnical interventions, as opposed to traditional methods of moral formation (e.g., education, habituation, enculturation). In addition, although enhancement has traditionally been distinguished from therapy, this boundary has become increasingly blurred (Gerardi and Xinaris 2025, p. 3; Bostrom and Sandberg 2009, p. 312; President’s Council on Bioethics 2003, pp. 13–16). I thus adopt a more general definition of enhancement: “any deliberate intervention that aims to improve an existing capacity, select for a desired capacity, or create a new capacity in a human being” (DeGrazia 2013, p. 361).

The argument proceeds as follows. I begin with an overview of the secular literature on the global debate over biotechnical moral enhancement (Section 2). I then argue that, although Jewish thought endorses the use of technology to improve the human condition (Section 3), freedom and autonomy are so fundamental to moral agency (Section 4) that any encroachment upon them constitutes a violation of an individual’s very humanity. With this account of the centrality of free will in place, I return to the global debate and apply a Jewish perspective in response (Section 5). Finally, I conclude with a discussion of Jewish eschatological visions and their implications for moral enhancement technologies (Section 6).

2. Moral Enhancement Polemics: Introduction

There are three areas to target moral enhancement: (1) motivational, in which an individual’s motivations to do the right thing are enhanced so that the individual is more inclined to do the right thing (e.g., act justly); (2) cognitive, in which an individual’s reasoning is enhanced, enabling the individual to better determine the right thing to do; and (3) behavioral, in which an individual’s actions are enhanced such that, regardless of motivation or reasoning, the action taken will be the right thing to do (DeGrazia 2013, p. 363; Kudlek 2022, p. 98).10 In this section, I survey the principal debates surrounding each of these targets in turn.

2.1. Moral Tilting

We begin with the motivational domain, which has been the predominant focus of the moral enhancement debate. Through the studied application of drugs—though non-pharmaceutical means are also contemplated11—an individual’s “mood, character traits, motives and general disposition to undertake certain actions” may be modified (Bublitz and Merkel 2009, p. 362). In this vein, traits and tendencies bearing on violence and aggression, trust and cooperation, empathy and altruism are commonly identified as targets of moral enhancement (e.g., Savulescu and Persson 2012).

Now, as noted in the introduction, one of the primary moral difficulties posed by moral enhancement is its potential violation of the subject’s autonomy. In particular, if a normative individual—that is, one who is of sound mind and body and not in need of therapeutic treatment—were to take drugs to become more empathic, he would ostensibly lose the capacity to not be empathic, since the drugs caused him to act without deliberation. Accordingly, opponents of such enhancements, like John Harris, write, “Without the freedom to fall, good cannot be a choice; and freedom disappears and along with it virtue. There is no virtue in doing what you must” (Harris 2011, p. 104; similarly, Harris 2013, p. 171; Hauskeller 2013, p. 51). Enhancement proponents, however, respond that interventions at the motivational level do not undermine decision-making but merely amplify the good (e.g., empathy) and attenuate the bad (e.g., anger). What we might call a “moral tilt,” as opposed to a “moral override” (e.g., DeGrazia 2013, pp. 365–66; Douglas 2008, p. 231).

Importantly, even those who defend the use of enhancements at the motivational level agree that the targets of these interventions (traits, emotions, dispositions) are dual use. For example, while decreased aggression at home or at work will, all things considered, be good, in a tough neighborhood or on a battlefield, such a disposition will, all things considered, end badly (Hauskeller 2013, pp. 49–52; Douglas 2013, p. 166). Whether an emotion or disposition is good or bad is dependent on circumstances (e.g., Persson and Savulescu 2011, p. 130; Giubilini and Sanyal 2015, p. 235; Harris 2011, p. 105; Shook 2012, p. 11; Kudlek 2022, p. 100; Beck 2015, p. 239).12 Accordingly, many point to the need for conscious reason to mediate these motivations (e.g., Kudlek 2022, p. 103 and sources there; Jotterand 2011, p. 7; Harris 2013, p. 171; Hauskeller 2013, p. 51). And that brings us to cognitive enhancement.

2.2. Moral Thinking

While motivations, emotions, and dispositions can serve as an impetus to action, it is the intellect that determines whether such feelings are appropriate to carry through to action. Hauskeller puts it like this: “What we need in order to decide what, in any given situation, is the right thing to do is not a particular kind of disposition or emotional attitude [alone], and not even a rule that guides our actions, but rather what Aristotle called phronesis: a kind of practical reason” (Hauskeller 2013, p. 50; similarly, Jotterand 2011, p. 7). On this understanding, cognitive enhancement could support practical deliberation by strengthening capacities such as perception, attention, understanding, memory, reasoning, and action coordination (Bostrom and Sandberg 2009, p. 312).

Proponents of moral enhancement agree that moral motivation together with moral insight are what lead to moral behavior (e.g., DeGrazia 2013, p. 367) and thus endorse cognitive enhancement as part of the effort toward moral enhancement. Opponents, too, agree that practical reason is critical (see phronesis sources above) and would therefore not find biotechnical enhancement of core cognitive capacities (e.g., memory, reasoning) to undermine autonomy (so long as enhancing moral reason doesn’t drift into dictating moral choice).13 That said, even with moral motivations and moral reasoning working together, they argue that moral action may still not result (e.g., Harris 2013, p. 172; Shook 2012, p. 5). And that brings us to behavioral enhancement.

2.3. Moral Override

If the goal of moral enhancement is to bring about moral people, moral societies and, ultimately, a moral world, then efforts must focus on the third domain: behavior. For, again, if the combination of enhancement in the motivational and cognitive domains cannot reliably engender moral behavior, then making people smarter without making them more moral could enable evil on a scale heretofore never witnessed (Savulescu and Persson 2012, p. 400; DeGrazia 2013, p. 362). Accordingly, Savulescu and Persson (2012, sct. 11) propose the “God Machine”—a supercomputer capable of monitoring the thoughts of the global population and intervening if an individual is about to perform an immoral act (defined as an imprisonable act).14 Although this proposal relies on technology that remains in the realm of science fiction, even today, albeit on a reduced scale, there exists the possibility of neural implants (e.g., Neuralink) that could intervene between an individual’s moral decision and the action that would follow.

This form of “moral override” would aim to ensure moral behavior, but clearly at the expense of individual freedom of action. Savulescu and Persson acknowledge this cost, yet argue that the freedom to commit such acts is only one value among others and may be overridden by the value of preventing imprisonable harm (Savulescu and Persson 2012, p. 416; similarly, DeGrazia 2013, p. 365; Douglas 2013, p. 166). Others are far less sanguine about limiting freedom in this way. Grossl warns that, “Despite the best of intentions, applying moral enhancements could eventually eliminate human freedom and thereby destroy the essence of humanity itself” (Grossl 2020, p. 359; similarly, Hauskeller 2013, p. 51). John Harris states the objection most plainly: “I, like so many others, would not wish to sacrifice freedom for survival” (Harris 2011, p. 110).

3. A Jewish Perspective: Human Improvement

To assess the tension between moral enhancement and human freedom, I turn to Jewish thought, as it is not only one of the oldest philosophical traditions in the world but the longest continuously living one. It unfolds generation by generation through the philosophical, ethical, and legal life of an entire people confronting—day by day—dilemmas that are not merely abstract “thought experiments,” but lived experiences, often, as R. Yaakov Medan puts it, “written in our blood” (Medan 2000).15

It is precisely this grounding in a thick, time-tested moral framework that adds new depth to conclusions that otherwise align with those of modern secular thinkers. And while believers in the Bible (as understood by Jewish tradition) will find the conclusions divine, even those outside this belief tradition stand to gain from the philosophical arguments brought to bear.

This section, then, develops a Jewish framework for assessing biotechnical moral enhancement, beginning with the foundational belief that science and technology are to be applied ethically to improve the human condition.

We begin at the conclusion of creation:

And the heaven and the earth were finished, and all the host of them. And on the seventh day God finished His work which He had made; and He rested on the seventh day from all His work which He had made. And God blessed the seventh day, and hallowed it; because that in it He rested from all His work which God in creating had done.

(Gen 2:1–3)

The last words, “which God in creating had done [asher bara Elokim la’asot],” translate literally to “that God created to do”—indicating that God left the world incomplete to allow for humans “to do,” i.e., to complete creation. The completion is both technical and ethical. Technically, it requires applying scientific and technological expertise to improve the human condition;16 ethically, it requires developing ourselves and our societies in accordance with a moral standard that brings about the peace and harmony foretold by the prophets.17

Regarding the technical aspect, R. Joseph Soloveitchik articulates this idea in a passage of his The Lonely Man of Faith, explaining that human dignity is realized through the application of technology to improve the human condition:

Man is a dignified being and to be human means to live with dignity. … [But] what is dignity and how can it be realized? … Dignity was equated by the Psalmist [8:6] with man’s capability of dominating his environment and exercising control over it. … Only when man rises to the heights of freedom of action and creativity of mind does he begin to implement the mandate of dignified responsibility entrusted to him by his Maker. … Man of old who could not fight disease and succumbed in multitudes to yellow fever or any other plague with degrading helplessness could not lay claim to dignity. Only the man [i.e., “the collective human technological genius”] who builds hospitals, discovers therapeutic techniques, and saves lives is blessed with dignity.

(Soloveitchik [1965] 2012, pp. 14–16)18

Here the notion of “completing creation” is extended beyond the responsible exercise of control over the environment to include the development of therapies directed toward human health and longevity. This position is supported by a Midrash that draws an analogy between physician and farmer to show that therapeutic practices are no less imperative than agricultural ones:

Just as with a tree, if it is not fertilized, plowed, and weeded, it does not grow, and if it already grew but then is not watered, it dies; so with regard to the body. Drugs and medicaments are the fertilizer, and the physician is the farmer.

(Midrash Shmuel 4:1)

Accordingly, healing the sick is mandated by the Torah itself, as R. Yosef Karo writes in his compendium of Jewish Law: “The Torah (Ex. 11:19) has granted the physician permission to heal, and it is a religious duty which comes under the rule of saving an endangered life. If he withholds [treatment] he is regarded as one who sheds blood” (YD 336:1).19 Therapy clearly falls within the mandate to complete creation—but what of enhancement beyond therapy?

To respond to this question, we begin with a seminal Midrash (Tanhuma [Buber] Tazria 7) wherein R. Akiva defends the commandment of circumcision as part of the mandate to “complete creation.” Given the importance of this midrash, I quote it in full with my explanations interleaved:

It once happened that the evil Turnus Rufus asked Rabbi Akiva,20 “Which are the greater works, those of the Holy One Blessed is He or those of flesh and blood?” He said to him, “Those of flesh and blood are greater.” Turnus Rufus said, “But the Heavens and Earth—are flesh and blood able to make such as those?” Rabbi Akiva said to him, “Don’t speak to me about something which is beyond the creations [i.e., human beings] and over which they have no mastery, rather speak of things which are found among human beings.” [That is, God, as the Creator of heaven and earth, is necessarily greater than human beings and anything they create; on this point, there is nothing to dispute].

[Turnus Rufus] asked, “Why do you circumcise?” [Rabbi Akiva] replied, “I knew you were going to ask me about that, which is why I started by telling you that the works of flesh and blood are better than the works of the Holy One Blessed is He.” [That is, since the question all along was, effectively, why should humans modify God’s work (i.e., nature), R. Akiva answers from the outset that God’s work itself demands human intervention. To illustrate this point,] Rabbi Akiva said, “Bring me stalks [of grain] and loaves [of bread]. These are the works of the Holy One Blessed is He, and these are the works of flesh and blood. Are not these [loaves] better than the stalks?!” Rabbi Akiva said, “Bring me flax fibers and [linen] garments from Beit Shean21. These are the works of the Holy One Blessed is He, and these are the works of flesh and blood. Are not these [garments] better than the flax fibers?!”

Turnus Rufus [persisted, because the examples given demonstrated that while natural materials can be transformed by flesh and blood to serve their ends, nature itself may still be regarded as perfect—i.e., stalks and fibers do not inherently need a change to make them better, just different.22 Accordingly, Turnus Rufus] asks him, “If He wants circumcision, why does the infant not emerge circumcised from his mother’s womb?” Rabbi Akiva said to him, “And why does his umbilical cord emerge with him—won’t his mother cut it? [That is, the umbilical cord, with which the human being naturally enters the world, must be cut and discarded. This, then, serves as a clear example of something in nature that nevertheless requires human intervention to inherently change from its natural state]. And [so,” continues Rabbi Akiva,] “this that you said, ‘Why doesn’t he emerge circumcised?’ [It is to teach that, beyond cutting the umbilical cord done of mere necessity, man is to take an active role in completing creation. Circumcision thus symbolizes that] the Holy One Blessed is He gave Israel the commandments only in order to refine them [i.e., through the altruistic (lishmah) performance of the commandments, those who observe them are themselves refined].23 Thus David said, “the word of the Lord is refined” (Psalms 18:31).”

A number of essential points emerge here: (1) Human beings have a mandate to actively improve the world for the benefit of humanity, one that in no way diminishes the awe due to the Creator. (2) The mandate includes improving the basic necessities of the human condition, to use Francis Bacon’s phrase, to relieve the estate of man (Bacon [1605] 1893, sct. 1.5.11). (3) Most importantly for our discussion on enhancement, the mandate to improve the world of man includes improving the body of man.24 This last point is made explicit in another Midrash: “Everything that was created during the six days of Creation requires some action [to bring it to its perfected state], e.g., mustard requires sweetening, lupines require sweetening, wheat requires grinding. And even man needs to be perfected [as exemplified by the command to circumcise]” (Gen. R. 11:6).

Now, while these sources open the door to the “perfecting” of man, they do not indicate just how far we may go. John Loike and Moshe Tendler address this issue, beginning with a discussion on the permissibility of tampering with human DNA for therapeutic purposes (e.g., correcting a genetic defect in a fertilized egg), for which they argue “is included in the biblical directive that people are partners with God in the creation process” (Loike and Tendler 2014, p. 51). The authors then take the next step and address going beyond therapy, asking if Jewish law (halakhah) would permit behavioral (e.g., moral) enhancement.

Currently, there is a vast scientific literature identifying human genes that regulate intelligence, aggression, sexual orientation, and even spirituality. However, using gene editing to modify behavior presents a halakhic problem. Based on existing research of the genetics of human personality, behavior, and intelligence, we cannot safely predict the outcomes of genetic manipulation of intelligence or behavior on other personality traits [and behaviors] of an individual. … We therefore propose that Halakha would prohibit, at this point in time, the utilization of gene editing to alter behavioral characteristics because of their unknown, far-reaching consequences on the personality of the individual. As science gains further knowledge regarding these issues, the halakhic prohibition may be revisited in the future (Loike and Tendler 2014, p. 54).

In their assessment, then, just as Jewish law mandates therapeutic treatments, so too—if proven safe and effective (as per our assumption 3 above)—it would mandate enhancements. That claim, I maintain, goes a step too far. To see why, consider the statement of R. Yisrael Lifschitz, on which their permissive stance largely rests:

“Any activity that we have no reason to prohibit is permitted in halakha without having to find a reason for its permissibility, for the Torah does not mention every permissible thing but rather elaborates on only those things that are forbidden”.

(Tif. Yisrael, Yachin, Mish. Yadayim 4:3)

At first glance, one might argue that behavioral enhancement is permitted because it is not explicitly prohibited in the Torah. But what exactly is “the Torah”? It does not, I submit, refer merely to the Five Books of Moses, nor even the twenty-four books of Tanach, but rather encompasses the entirety of the ongoing Oral Torah.25 Determining practical law (halakha) therefore demands that the issue at hand be analyzed from within this thick moral framework that is “the Torah.” It is not enough to look only for explicit legal precedents or midrashic prooftexts; rather, these elements of the Torah must themselves be interpreted through the lens of the Torah’s broader moral framework (Berkovits 1970, p. 72; 1976a, pp. 91–92; 1976b, pp. 30–31; Navon 2025, sct. 3.5, sources in nn. 4, 33).

If God left the world incomplete in order to allow human beings “to do”—to complete creation both technically and ethically—then the project of technical completion itself must be guided by the demands of ethical completion (Kook 1906, p. 24). It is precisely in light of these ethical demands, as the following section will show, that a fundamental prohibition against moral enhancement becomes apparent.26

4. A Jewish Perspective: Autonomy & Freedom

Turning now to the ethical aspect of completing creation, while Jewish thought advances many important values and principles, I argue that autonomy and freedom constitute the ground upon which all others rest. This is because without the autonomy to deliberate and decide one’s actions, the individual is reduced to an automaton for whom there can be neither responsibility nor accountability. Conversely, even where autonomy is preserved, the absence of freedom to act on one’s decisions prevents autonomy from being realized in practice and renders it, in effect, empty. Meaningful moral agency therefore requires both the capacity to decide and the latitude to act (e.g., Ramchal, Derech Hashem 1:4:1; Soloveitchik 2005, p. 77).

The primacy of autonomy and freedom in Jewish thought is highlighted throughout the literature—in the Torah, the Talmud, Halakhah and philosophy. The Torah conveys it upon the creation of human beings:

And the Lord God took the man, and put him into the garden of Eden to dress it and to keep it. And the Lord God commanded the man, saying: ‘Of every tree of the garden thou mayest freely eat; but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it; for in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die’.

(Gen. 2:15–17)

Here, at the very outset of creation, Man is explicitly placed in an environment of choice and given a command—a challenge—to exercise his autonomous will. This prescriptive communication in Genesis 2 stands in stark contrast to the earlier, descriptive statement in Genesis 1: “And God said [not commanded] to them, ‘Be fruitful and multiply…’” (Gen. 1:28). The Genesis 2 command constitutes an ethical demand; the Genesis 1 statement, though cast in imperative form, functions as the expression of a biological impulse. So explains R. Soloveitchik:

Va-yomer [“and God said”] signifies that God informed man of a factual situation, of something which is. In our case, He told him about the biological drive. … Biological motivation is neutral as far as ethical standards are concerned. … With the va-yetzav [“and God commanded” came] the dawning of the ethical experience, man begins to experience his selfhood … as a moral personality.

(Soloveitchik 2005, p. 87, with wording adapted from n.1)

Human beings are unique among God’s creatures because, unlike those governed solely by biological impulses, they are moral beings—autonomous and free to choose between good and evil (e.g., R. Hirsch, Gen. 3:1). And it is only here—in moral decision-making—that the Talmud locates human free will:

“Everything is in the hands of Heaven except for the fear of Heaven”.

(Ber. 33b)

“Everything is in the hands of Heaven” implies that human life is largely determined by factors beyond a person’s control—among them physical and psychological conditions, socialization and enculturation, as well as geographic and economic circumstances (Nid. 16b; Moed K. 28a). By contrast, “fear of Heaven” (yirat shamayim) denotes the moral domain (e.g., Rashi Ber. 33b, s.v. hakol; Leibtag 2003). The Talmud thus teaches that human free will is expressed exclusively in moral choice, in the decision between good and evil.

This approach to free will is elaborated on and brought to its normative conclusion by Maimonides in his Laws on Repentance (ch. 5:1–3):

(1)

Free will is granted to all men. If one desires to turn himself to the path of good and be righteous, the choice is his. Should he desire to turn to the path of evil and be wicked, the choice is his. This is [the intent of] the Torah’s statement: “Behold, man has become unique as ourselves, knowing good and evil” (Gen. 3:22)—i.e., the human species became unique in the world … such that man can, on his own initiative, with his knowledge and thought, know [i.e., determine]27 good and evil, and do what he desires. There is no one who can prevent him from doing good or bad.

Here Maimonides corroborates the concept we have seen presented in the Torah and the Talmud: all human beings possess free will, but it operates solely within the moral domain—in the choice to be righteous or wicked. He then adds a salient point grounded in the biblical text: human beings are free not only to choose between good and evil, but also to determine what they take to be good and evil. Free will in the moral domain thus includes defining morality itself. This does not render moral life easier, but all the more demanding, for one who defines as “good” that which is in fact evil has not become righteous, but rather more deeply ensnared in evil.28

(2)

A person should not entertain the notion … that, at the time of a man’s creation, The Holy One, blessed be He, decrees whether he will be righteous or wicked. This is not true. … Rather, he, on his own initiative and decision, tends to the path he chooses. … [And] since free choice is in our hands and our own decision [is what prompts us to] commit all the wrongs [that we do], it is proper for us to repent and abandon our wickedness, for this choice is presently in our hand. This is implied by the verse: “Let us search and examine our ways and return [to God]” (Lam. 3:40).

Having established that all human beings possess free will in the moral domain, Maimonides explicitly rejects the claim that individuals are born with a disposition toward righteousness or wickedness, since such a view would effectively eliminate free will.29 He insists that there is no predetermined disposition in this domain and that, as a result, each individual bears full responsibility for his actions and is accountable for the wrongs he commits. In so doing, Maimonides provides the existential grounding for the norm with which he opens his Laws on Repentance: the obligation to repent.

(3)

This doctrine [of free will]30 is a great principle and a pillar [on which rests the totality]31 of the Torah and commandments as it states: “Behold, I have set before you today life [and good, death and evil]” (Deut. 30:15). Similarly, “Behold, I have set before you today [the blessing and the curse]” (Deut. 11:26), implying that the choice is in your hands. Any one of the deeds of men which a person desires to do, he may, whether good or evil. …

Here Maimonides states explicitly what we claimed at the outset of this section: free will is the foundational principle upon which all our values and beliefs rest. The biblical verses he brings as proof texts make clear not only that this principle of free will operates exclusively in the moral domain, but also that free will is essential to the entire Torah and its commandments. For why would the Torah command if no choice to obey were possible? And how could reward (“life and good”) or punishment (“death and evil”) be assigned without the ability to choose?32

Significantly, Immanuel Kant affirms free will as “a great principle”—exercised solely in the moral domain—when he writes, “A free will and a will under moral laws are one and the same” (Groundwork 4:447). Kant is understood here to be articulating the reciprocal relationship between morality and freedom such that, “to act morally is to exercise freedom, and the only way to fully exercise freedom is to act morally” (Rohlf 2024).

That said, there is an important difference between Kant’s account of how human beings exercise free will and that of the Torah. Kant maintains that, for a rational being to exercise free will, that being must be the source of the moral law governing their actions (Groundwork 4:431). To do so, each individual is to apply Kant’s two formulas of the categorical imperative (Formula of Universal Law, ibid. 4:421; Formula of Humanity, ibid. 4:429) in order to derive the morally required course of action (ibid. 4:436–437). This approach is autonomous: one is the source of the moral law for oneself. It thus stands in opposition to the Torah’s heteronomous approach, in which the moral law is received from a source external to the self, namely God.

Yeshayahu Leibowitz explains why heteronomy is critical:

“Willing acceptance of a way of life which does not derive from human nature implies emancipation of man from the bondage of raw nature… [Conversely, m]an activated by his “own” nature is, in effect, nothing but a robot activated by the forces of nature, just like the cattle grazing in the pasture, which are also “free from Torah and Mitzvoth”; that is, from any law externally imposed”.

(Leibowitz 1992, p. 21)

His point is that when one acts according to one’s nature—according to the various impulses within oneself, whether biological, sociological, or otherwise—one is not choosing freely but acting deterministically, “like the cattle grazing in the pasture.” The only way to exercise free will is to choose not to act on the impulses of one’s nature. And the only sure way to do that is to choose instead to act in accordance with a will imposed from outside one’s nature.

Kant could argue that choosing to follow the categorical imperative constitutes acting against one’s nature and thus exemplifies free will, because it often requires acting against one’s immediate interest (e.g., forgoing the financial gain that could be obtained by lying). True though that may be, human beings notoriously rationalize their actions; thus, in legislating the moral law for oneself, one can all too easily bend it to fit one’s inclinations.33 Hence, the only way to ensure that one is genuinely exercising free will is, as Leibovitz maintains, through obedience to a moral law that is externally given—e.g., the Torah (See also Navon 2008).

To summarize, free will—autonomy in decision and freedom in execution—is enshrined in Jewish thought as “a great principle” (ikar gadol) because it is the very foundation of our being. Without free will to express ourselves we are nothing more than “cattle grazing in the pasture.” But this free will is exercised exclusively in the moral domain wherein we choose to do the right thing as defined by the moral law we accept upon ourselves. Only thus can there be responsibility toward the moral law and accountability for its performance.34

5. Moral Enhancement Polemics: A Jewish Response

Having shown that technological enhancement can be acceptable so long as it does not undermine free will, I now apply this standard to biotechnical interventions across the three areas of moral agency. I argue that cognitive enhancement may, in principle, be a morally permissible target, whereas interventions in motivation and behavior are categorically prohibited.

5.1. Moral Tilting

Free will is what separates human beings from cattle, zombies, and automatons; it is what makes us human. Free will is not, therefore, simply one ethical value among others to be ranked within a hierarchy of values. It is, rather, an existential value.35 Accordingly, Jewish thought would regard any diminution of a person’s free will as a diminution of his very humanity, for “man is man only if he may choose between alternative courses of action, and if he can do so in moral freedom” (Berkovits 2004, p. 148).

This clear and unequivocal position allows for an equally clear and unequivocal response to quandaries posed by enhancement proponents, such as Thomas Douglas, who wonders:

“… suppose that I undergo an intervention that mitigates some of the many emotional biases that afflict my prudential and moral reasoning, or that reduces my temptation to act against my sincere normative judgements. This intervention seems aptly characterized as increasing my freedom to be moral by removing a brute constraint on that freedom. At least, it is difficult to see how my freedom to be immoral has decreased by the change”.

(Douglas 2013, p. 166)

But if an intervention mitigates emotional biases that affect one’s moral reasoning, then—no matter how sincerely one believes in some good—the intervention has explicitly tampered with one’s freedom. For freedom is not realized solely by what one believes to be the right thing to do but by carrying through with that action (e.g., Ramban Gen. 22:1; Harris 2011, p. 104). Thus biotechnical interference in any of the three stages of moral agency36—motivational, cognitive, behavioral—would diminish one’s freedom.

Furthermore, there can be no better definition of tampering with one’s moral freedom than an intervention that “reduces temptation.”37 For it is temptation itself that lies at the very heart of moral choice, as the Bible depicts so vividly in those first moments of human existence when the snake tempts Eve. Commenting on the verse, “And the woman saw that the tree was good for eating” (Gen. 3:6), R. Adin Steinsaltz writes:

The woman began to submit to temptation, thus marking the beginning of the sin. Of course the root of this sin preceded its violation; it was based on the willingness to even consider the possibility of violating a divine command. [Yet] this did not occur to the woman on her own; it was the serpent who presented her with the option of defying the command of God [i.e., morality].38

The story of temptation, placed at the very beginning of the Bible, is the story of our humanity, for “moral freedom, freedom of will, that fundamental palladium [i.e., safeguard] of the greatness of Man, is unthinkable without the ability to sin” (R. Hirsch, Gen. 2:16–17). Such greatness is achieved, not received—as the Mishna teaches: “According to the effort is the gain” (Avot 5:23: lefum tzara agra).39 Consequently, even the slightest “moral tilt” would destabilize the very foundations of human being.

5.2. Moral Thinking

In contradistinction to biotechnical interventions at the motivational level, interventions at the cognitive level would not tilt one’s free will—so long as they target the intellectual capacities for moral thought rather than introduce moral content that “aims at bringing about particular ideas, motives, or behavior, making people commit to them without much room for rational deliberation” (Kudlek 2022, p. 103; see also Harris 2011, p. 102).40 A person’s intellectual capacities do not compel one to choose; they merely enable one to deliberate more deeply about one’s choices. Abraham Twerski (1987, p. 75) explains the instrumental nature of the intellect as follows:

The ability to be master of one’s drives rather than enslaved by them is uniquely human, and that is the essence of man. The definition of man is not as biologists claim, Homo sapiens, which translates into “a gorilla with intellect.” Intellect is the ability to acquire knowledge, to understand what one has learned, and to know how to apply this knowledge. One can have all of these and still be under the domination of one’s internal drives [i.e., still be a gorilla].

Twerski’s point is that intellect does not, by itself, ennoble the human being over the animal. Rather, he continues, what distinguishes the human being is the capacity to enlist the intellect in the pursuit of self-mastery, directed toward the goal of becoming “a learned and moral individual” (Maimonides, Mishnah, Introduction). This human telos is realized through the reciprocal development of intellect and character. As one’s understanding deepens, it clarifies the values and norms by which conduct is to be refined; and as one’s conduct is refined, it reshapes the intellect by conditioning its faculties (i.e., perception, attention, understanding, memory, reasoning, and action coordination). This reciprocal development continues iteratively, as the individual ever strives toward human perfection.41

Two points here are of particular importance. First, while the goal of intellectual development (i.e., the learned individual) is no less important than that of ethical development (i.e., the moral individual), cognitive enhancement would not interfere with one’s own striving to achieve it; for the intellectual gesture concerns understanding—in Jewish terms—God Himself (e.g., Hil. Melachim 12:5; Guide 3:54).42 Cognitive enhancement may enable greater comprehension, but it does not direct that comprehension toward the divine. Second, while the intellect does bear upon the ethical gesture—in that one may better understand the divine and the ethical demands that follow therefrom—an expanded intellect can just as easily be used to justify one’s own immoral desires. Being smarter does not remove the effort required to become virtuous, as is clear from the many people who use their intellect for evil.

5.3. Moral Override

It is precisely the moral indeterminacy of cognitive enhancement—that is, its capacity to enhance one’s ability to do either good or evil—that has led some thinkers to urge that society must implement moral enhancements to override cognitively enhanced immoral behavior (e.g., Persson and Savulescu 2008; DeGrazia 2013, p. 362; contra Harris 2011). Acknowledging that moral override will come at the cost of free will, Douglas (2013, p. 166) nevertheless defends it as a price worth paying:

… even where [moral enhancement through] direct emotion modulation does decrease the freedom to be immoral, the moral cost of this may simply be outweighed by the moral benefit of improved motivation or behaviour. … [Nevertheless,] it seems preferable to sacrifice some freedom to do evil in order to prevent evil.

This same cost-benefit analysis is depicted in Jewish literature as having been carried out by God, the ministering angels and the sages of the Talmud. One allegory has God realizing that the only way to proceed with the creation of free-willed beings is to allow them to do evil:

Rabbi Berekhya said: When the Holy One blessed be He came to create Adam, He foresaw righteous and wicked people descending from him. He said: If I create him, wicked people will descend from him. But if I do not create him, how will righteous people ever descend from him? What did the Holy One blessed be He do? He distanced the way of the wicked from His attention [i.e., He ignored evil], appended the attribute of mercy to Himself [in order that His attribute of justice would not impose the immediate annihilation of man due to his evil ways (Rashi Gen. 1:1)], and created him ….

(Ber. R. 8:4)

Another allegory depicts God informing the ministering angels of His intent to create a free-willed being. The angels then divide into those who support the creation of man based on the good man will do, and those who oppose it due to his evil dispositions. The debate is not so much resolved as it is suspended, for God simply informs them that He has made the executive decision to create man despite their irreconcilable differences:

Rabbi Simon said: When the Holy One blessed be He came to create Adam, the ministering angels divided into factions and groups. Some of them saying: ‘Let him not be created,’ and some of them saying: ‘Let him be created.’ As it is written: “Kindness and truth met; righteousness and peace touched” (Psalms 85:11). Kindness said: ‘Let him be created, as he performs acts of kindness.’ Truth said: ‘Let him not be created, as he is all full of lies.’ Righteousness said: ‘Let him be created, as he performs acts of righteousness.’ Peace said: ‘Let him not be created, as he is all full of discord.’ … Rav Huna, rabbi of Tzippori, said: While the ministering angels were busy deliberating with one another and disputing with one another, the Holy One blessed be He created him. He said to them: ‘Why are you deliberating? Man has already been created’.

(Ber. R. 8:5; similarly, ibid. 8:8; Zohar Balak 207b)

And finally, the debate is taken up between the two great Talmudic schools of Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel:

For two and a half years, Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel disagreed. These said: It would have been preferable had man not been created than to have been created. And those said: It is preferable for man to have been created than had he not been created. Ultimately, they voted and concluded: It would have been preferable had man not been created than to have been created [i.e., to see all the evil done under the sun (Hag. Yaakov)]. However, now that he has been created, he should examine his actions and seek to correct them.

(Eruv. 13b, with Rashi)

Significantly, perhaps even surprisingly, the human debate ends in agreement with the angels who opposed creation—and, we might say, in support of Douglas et al.—holding that free will carries a cost that is simply too high. Yet unlike Douglas et al., the narrative concludes as do the allegories: it is not for created beings to decide, but only to abide by the will of the Creator. Thus, R. Eliezer Berkovits writes: “Whether the price that must be paid in terms of suffering and misery will be well worth the achievement is not within man’s ability either to affirm or to deny” (Berkovits 2004, p. 158; also 1973, p. 105). In sum, our world is inexorably predicated on that great principle (ikar gadol) of free will; to remove it would be to overturn the created order as we know it.43

6. Eschatology

This brings us back to the Talmudic declaration that “in the future, God will come and slaughter the evil inclination” (Sukkah 52a). Taking the evil inclination to be, in the Kantian sense noted above, the innate propensity to adopt evil maxims, the Talmud declares that, in the end of days, God will remove this propensity. In so doing, God Himself will perform the ultimate moral enhancement—one that will indeed overturn the created order as we know it. Now, being that God left creation for human beings to perfect, perhaps it is we who should effect this “slaughter”—through biotechnical moral enhancements—and thus bring the world to its halcyon conclusion, wherein “the wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid.” (Isa. 11:6).

Such an understanding turns on what the Talmud intended by “in the future.”44 R. Yaakov Loberbaum, in his Emet LeYaakov, reads the phrase as a reference to the “world of truth”—an alternate mode of existence opposed to our present “world of falsehood.” On that reading, the eschatological change is so radical that it would have to be wrought by the Creator Himself. By contrast, the Maharsha interprets “slaughter” as an “annulment of power,”45 and R. Yosef Pinto (Rif, Ein Yaakov) elaborates that “the evil inclination will still exist but not provoke.” Taken together, these interpretations point to a “future” world not so different from our own—one in which immoral motivations, decisions, and behaviors are simply overridden by moral enhancements that could, in principle, be implemented via neural implants.

I would, however, maintain that such human-initiated “slaughter of the evil inclination” is unwarranted for reasons both theological and practical. From a theological perspective, the evil inclination is at the very essence of humanity, its subjugation, the very challenge of creation (see Eisen 1992). “If we kill it,” explains the Gemara (Yoma 69b), “the world will be destroyed.” This prognosis is brought both prophetically, by Zechariah, and empirically, through the sages who trap the evil inclination only to find that creativity ceased from the world. They thus release it, affirming that the evil inclination is not to be destroyed.46

That said, the larger episode might appear to point in the opposite direction, as the sages had previously succeeded in suppressing the inclination to idolatry and, in the case of sexual desire, attempted to weaken it before releasing it. Such exploits might appear to provide precedent for moral enhancement, but the details of the story undermine such an inference: (a) the power to annul these inclinations is described as being entirely in the hands of God (Maharsha, San. 64a, s.v. el Hashem); (b) the sages are the Men of the Great Assembly, a special legislative body without parallel today; (c) the episode is described as an extraordinary moment of divine favor (et ratzon); and (d) the sages did not actually succeed in eliminating either inclination—the inclination to idolatry was only muted, not eradicated (Eisen 1992, p. 58, esp. nn. 56–57), and the attempt to diminish even one aspect of sexual desire did little to reduce such proclivities (see Daf Al Daf, San. 64a, s.v. ahani bei). Accordingly, while humans may wish to be rid of the evil inclination and thereby forgo the moral struggle and its potential reward, the conclusion of the episode is that God does not.

On a practical level—whether via Persson and Savulescu’s “God Machine” or Elon Musk’s Neuralink—it is difficult to envision a world in which every newborn leaves the hospital implanted with “genetically modified neurons” or a moral-control chip. More plausibly, then, the slaughter of the evil inclination will come about by the hand of God, when He is ready to usher humanity into that end-of-days future.47

7. Conclusions

To the question of whether biotechnical moral enhancement should be used to save humanity from itself, our analysis has delivered an emphatic: no. For, while Jewish thought endorses the development of science and technology as part of the divine mandate to complete creation, it nevertheless treats free will not as one value among others but as an existential condition of human life in the world as we know it. The price of perfection—the price of a world free of sin, suffering and misery—is therefore our very humanity. Angels and men alike have argued that it is a price worth paying; the Creator of the universe thinks otherwise. It is fitting, then, to conclude with the words of the Talmud:

It would have been preferable

had man not been created

than to have been created.

Now that he has been created,

he should examine his actions

and seek to correct them.