Scientists have created the first synthetic human embryos using stem cells. The breakthrough could help research into genetic disorders, but it raises ethical questions about the creation of life without the need for eggs or sperm. While nobody is currently suggesting growing these embryos into a baby, the rapid progress has outpaced the law.

This prompts a wider question: instead of society having to play catch up with science, should we be having a more frank conversation about the moral responsibilities of science itself? Some believe that scientists need their own version of the Hippocratic Oath, a regulatory system of ethical standards, similar to doctors. Others think that will stifle creativity, enthusiasm and academic freedom.

The human drive for discovery is the engine of progress – and we have demonstrably never had it so good. But are there things we should not want to discover? Are we capable of making a conscious decision to say “no further” if the potential consequences of pursuing knowledge are both good and bad? For some, science is morally-neutral, its advancement is inevitable, and it’s down to society to set the rules about what to do with the findings of scientific research. For others, simply relying on the moral-neutrality of science could be humanity’s fatal flaw, and there should be more democratically-accountable oversight of the research. If that’s the case, where should the ethical lines be drawn? As well as the consequentialist arguments, some make the distinction between science as a means of discovering the natural world and ruling it; in religious terms, between seeking to understand God and ‘playing God’.

When, if ever, should we apply the brakes on science?

Producer: Dan Tierney.

It’s almost impossible to imagine why anyone would risk a perilous crossing over cold, dark waters in an inflatable dinghy. This is a story of humankind: the despair – or ambition – that drove them, the wickedness of the traffickers who exploited them, and the moral dilemma of those of us already living where they want to go. History is all about borders.

Two cross-party reports out this week have sought to inform the political and moral response to the ‘Illegal Migration Bill’, currently making its way through Parliament, which proposes that people who come to the UK “illegally” will be detained and permanently removed. The Commons Joint Committee on Human Rights concludes that the bill, “breaches a number of the UK’s international human rights obligations”. Meanwhile, a Home Affairs select committee report states there is "little evidence" Albanians are at risk in their country and need asylum in the UK.

Migration brings into focus the competing worldviews of universalism and localism. Universalists argue that the world is shrinking, and that pandemics and climate change reveal our interdependence as one global community. It is neither moral nor in the national interest, they argue, to erect bigger borders out of a sense of protectionism. Their opponents see borders as not just territorial or political, but intrinsically moral. Borders, in their view, create moral communities in which people feel rooted and valued.

How much should a country be willing to compromise the integrity of its boundaries out of compassion for non-citizens? Is it unjust to see people differently, based on where lines are drawn on a map? Would a world without borders be a better place?

Producer: Dan Tierney.

Try telling the hordes of Manchester City fans heading to the Champions League final this weekend that the beautiful game has an ugly side. The team is on the verge of sealing an historic first Treble and glory awaits. Rival fans, however, claim they’ve bought success, with the wealth of their Abu Dhabi owners.

The eye-watering sums of money invested in top-flight football raises moral questions for all fans, some of whom may feel they are entering into a Faustian pact. Newcastle United’s recent takeover by an investment fund with strong links to the Saudi state, has prompted concerns about ‘sportswashing’ – a means by which ethically dubious regimes direct attention away from their poor human rights records. Some worry that the commercialisation and uneven distribution of wealth in the game has priced hardworking fans out of watching their team, while leaving some community clubs on the brink of insolvency. There is unease not just about the institution of football but about its culture. Across Europe, high-profile black players are targets of racist abuse, there are hardly any openly gay footballers and female officials are subjected to misogyny.

Others see football, on balance, as a moral force for good. Our society, they say, would be worse off without it. Far from encouraging a toxic tribalism, enthusiasts believe football brings communities together. They cite grassroots projects, funded by footballing authorities, clubs and individual players, which often go under the radar and transform people’s lives. For many fans, football is a language that knows no borders, and their home ground is a cathedral of collective transcendence. Football could be seen as a microcosm of life – the agony, the extasy, the drama, the messiness, the humanity – just ask the people of Wrexham, whose Hollywood owners, they believe, have not just injected money into their club, but meaning into their town.

Producer: Dan Tierney.

The gender-critical philosopher Kathleen Stock’s address to the Oxford Union this week has divided academics at the university. One group has signed a letter expressing concern that student opposition to her invite goes against free speech. A second group has written an open letter supporting the students and stating that revoking an invite is not the same as preventing someone from speaking.

This case is seen by many as an example of so-called ‘cancel culture’. ‘Cancel culture’ has become such a common term that it is not always easy to understand what precisely it means and what its implications are for society. Media organisations have always made judgements about who should and should not receive a platform. What some view as censorship, others see as curating their own experience of who and what they interact with.

Cancel culture on the left is often characterised as a form of secular puritanism denouncing the ‘sins’ of the age, while, as perceived on the right, it can have an overtly religious justification in the defence of so-called traditional liberal values. Those who view cancel culture as a threat to Western liberal democracy point to dramatic historic parallels: witch hunts, inquisitions, book banning. Others reflect that ostracization and social shunning have always existed as a form of accountability for an individual’s actions. Is there a difference between a person being accountable for their behaviour and being accountable for their ideas? If not, who decides what are ‘unacceptable’ ideas?

The tragic death of primary headteacher Ruth Perry, who took her own life when her school was set to be downgraded to “inadequate”, has prompted widespread anger from teachers and calls to reform or abolish Ofsted. Ruth Perry’s family believes that the stress of the inspection led to her suicide, and this week an article in the British Medical Journal argued that “every work-related suicide” should be investigated by the Health and Safety Executive.

While some see this as an important intervention in seeking to understand and prevent further suicides, others are concerned that speculation about direct causal 'triggers' can oversimplify a complex issue. The Samaritans’ media guidelines state: “vulnerable people experiencing similar issues are more likely to over-identify with the deceased when a single reason is given”. Moreover, others are worried about the ‘weaponisation’ of individual cases of suicide by campaign groups seeking to advance wider political aims.

Suicide is a highly sensitive issue and the way we talk about it matters. Across different times and cultures it has been seen as both honourable and sinful. Today, most responses start from a place of compassion, based on a better understanding of mental health. While it is vital to understand, prevent and treat suicidal thoughts, should we ever seek to rationalise or explain suicide? That question is also pertinent in the debate around assisted dying. For some, choosing to end one’s life in this way is a rational decision we should be allowed to make in certain circumstances, for others, that social acceptance would have a far-reaching impact on people's perception of the worthwhileness of their life.

How should we talk about suicide?

Producer: Dan Tierney.

If you are suffering distress or despair and need support, including urgent support, a list of organisations that can help is available at www.bbc.co.uk/actionline

AI – the end of humanity or the next evolutionary step?

Computers are becoming more powerful. Much more powerful. Last week, Gordon Moore, the co-founder of Intel Corporation died. A computer industry billionaire, he came up with ‘Moore’s Law’ which observed that the power of computers doubles every couple of years. Today a microchip can contain 50 billion transistors, each narrower than a strand of human DNA.

The war of the robots has begun. Microsoft’s ‘ChatGPT’ and its rival, Google’s ‘Bard’ allow you to have a conversation with a computer, much as you would with another person. But it’s not just talk. As well as writing essays, presentations, legal documents and sermons, artificial intelligence can also produce art. We’ve accepted that machines can beat us at chess, but might they soon also beat us at poetry, painting and music? Could they make Shakespeare look second rate? Or will art without human input always be worthless?

Some people are impressed by the quality of what AI can create, but others are scared. It’s one thing for computers to process our knowledge, but quite another when a machine starts to teach itself. If it behaves just like a real person, will we trust it more than we should? Can machines display morality and if not, is it safe to allow them to make decisions for us? We worry that AI might take over our jobs, but should we really be worrying that it might replace humanity altogether?

Some see AI as the next evolutionary step, the latest development by mankind, with potential to transform lives for the better. But what are the risks in asking technology, however impressive, to solve human problems? Should we be excited by AI, or could artificial intelligence mark the start of the end of humanity?

Producer: Jonathan Hallewell

Is Growth a False God?

Last week’s budget was, according to the Chancellor, about growth. Whenever politicians talk about their plans these days, it’s always about growth. The arguments are clear: Until we generate more growth, we can’t get any richer and wages can’t increase either. It’s urgent too: The UK will be the only major economy apart from Russia to shrink this year, according to forecasts from the OECD. But not everyone is convinced that increasing growth makes us happier, or even that it’s sustainable.

Some believe the pursuit of growth attaches too little value to wellbeing, that it neglects what should be the real priority, people’s contentment and happiness. Government policies lead us, they claim, to work harder and for longer than we want to. They suggest it creates a culture that values our economic activity, earning money and spending it, over other important roles such as caring for children and elderly relatives, maintaining our community, or charitable work. Some ecological economists believe that endless growth is unachievable without climate breakdown, that it simply can’t be sustained without irreversible damage to the planet.

What is the moral case for the pursuit of growth? The political orthodoxy is that a growing economy is good for everyone. Growth drives up pay; welfare payments depend on tax revenues; pension providers rely on stock market growth for their returns. So don’t we all have an interest in continuous growth? Or have we created a world where our leaders care more about GDP than our happiness? Has growth become a false God?

Producer: Jonathan Hallewell

Is pacifism virtuous, admirable, impractical, immoral or stupid?

War and militarism are in the news every day. In the Budget, the Chancellor announced an extra £11bn in defence spending over the next five years, to counter threats from hostile states. It comes alongside news of a new defence pact with the US and Australia in response to Chinese military power. The war in Ukraine has seen advanced weapons rushed in by Western countries to support the fight against Russia. But alongside the talk of battles and territory won and lost, there is also talk of the horrors of war. There are renewed demands for peace, and some say it should be peace at any price. In Germany, protest marchers assert that sending more weapons to Ukraine pours fuel on the fire, causing more death, misery and destruction. They claim to detect a change of mood and point out that the latest film adaptation of “All Quiet on the Western Front”, a 1929 novel by the German pacifist, Erich Maria Remarque, has just picked up four Oscars to add to its 14 Baftas.

Producer: Jonathan Hallewell

Breach of Trust

When the journalist Isabel Oakeshott broke her promise and passed Matt Hancock's personal WhatsApp messages to the Daily Telegraph, was she morally justified in doing so? She didn't just go back on her word to the former health secretary, but broke a legally-binding Non Disclosure Agreement. She claims that "no journalist worth their salt" would have acted otherwise and insists her obligations to Mr Hancock were outweighed by the public interest served by releasing the messages. But others see it differently. It was, they claim, a decision aimed at promoting her own view that government lockdown measures during the pandemic were excessive. Journalists often cite the "public interest" when it can seem that their actions are more about advancing a particular cause, or about selling their story because the "public are interested".

Aside from journalism, when is a breach of trust justified in any human relationship? For many professionals, there's an understanding that confidentiality does sometimes have to be broken. The police, social workers, doctors, teachers and even the clergy grapple with often difficult judgements about the morality of betraying trust. At times, promises are broken with the justification that it's for "the greater good". But is there really no such a thing as a truly solemn "never to be broken" promise? Or are all our confidences, our shared stories and discreet conversations rather loose arrangements, conditional on other loyalties and pressures? In our personal relationships, should we be less ready to make promises we can't keep, and also avoid asking others to do the same? What are the moral limits to our obligation to keep a secret, and how can we know when it's right to breach someone's trust?

Producer: Jonathan Hallewell

Leaders with Faith

The first hustings in the election of the new leader of the Scottish National Party were held this week. The winner will become Scotland’s first minister. But so far the coverage of the campaign has been more about religion than policy. One of the three candidates, Kate Forbes is a member of the Free Church of Scotland and has faced criticism from within her party for saying that she would have voted against gay marriage, had she been an MSP in 2014. She also said that according to her religious beliefs, having a child outside of marriage was wrong. Several of her backers have withdrawn their support and others have questioned whether such views make her an appropriate choice to lead the country.

But why should traditional religious beliefs like this be a barrier to achieving high office? Forbes insists that it’s possible to be a person of faith, while still supporting the rights of others. Although she would have opposed the legalisation of same sex marriage, she says that as a “servant of democracy” she would now defend the legal right to gay marriage “to the hilt”.

Religious belief used to be seen by most people as a private matter. It was also generally regarded as a positive attribute in a senior politician, evidence perhaps of a strong moral compass. So what has changed in our attitudes to faith and should it affect how we choose our leaders?

Producer: Jonathan Hallewell