A quarter century is both a long time—a third of a life, if one is lucky—and the blink of an eye. In Volume 1, Number 1, of CQ, we began with this quote from Lewis Mumford’s classic 1970 book The Myth of the Machine: “If we are to save technology itself from the aberrations of its present leaders and putative gods, we must in both our thinking and our action come back to the human center; for it is there that all significant transformations begin and terminate.”Footnote 1
Today, this quote is more pertinent than ever. Since CQ’s own gestation and birth, the rise of digital technology, genomic science, and much more has led to an undeniable brand of hubris that is filtering into all walks of life. Technology, it seems, is going to fix everything—despite evidence to the contrary on virtually all fronts—including healthcare. Despite whatever advances occur, what patients most want from their “providers” (sorry) is the reassurance that somewhere, however deep inside, beneath the ever-growing expertise and resources at our fingertips, we actually do care about them—as people.
On a note from the past, CQ began as the International Journal of Healthcare Ethics Committees (emphasis added). In those early days, that was a feature that differentiated it from other ethics journals, and in our introductory editorial we promised to focus on “many disciplines as they apply to the work of healthcare ethics committees.” “In the pages of this journal,” we continued, “will be found sections devoted to medicine, law, philosophy, economics, research, theology, education, behavioral and social sciences, and more—with a focus on practical applications in committee settings.” The Journal of the American Medical Association, in reviewing our first year of publication, applauded this “practical” focus as worthy, which was both welcome and encouraging.
However, perhaps inevitably, we were soon redirected from that as a primary focus, as some of the very best figures in the field submitted papers of a broader scope that we simply could not refuse. In fact, the first article in the first issue was “Ethics Committees and Social Issues” by one Daniel Callahan. Thus CQ for many years has been subtitled “A Quarterly Journal Devoted to Engaging a World Community of Bioethicists.” In other words, anything goes—or almost. The questions are simply too vast and varied to limit ourselves in these pages.
This widening of scope was in keeping with the initial search to find a name for the new journal. Known to few is that “CQ” was chosen because it has a double meaning. Its first—and more obvious—meaning refers to “Cambridge Quarterly,” but it was also chosen for what it means in Morse code: CQ is the wireless signal for “calling anyone.” Twenty-five years later, we’re still calling, and responses from bioethicists everywhere are still increasing.
At CQ, we have no fixed preferences when it comes to topics, approaches, or orientations. All angles, perspectives, and positions are equally respected. There is room in bioethics for multiple approaches. However, we see CQ’s role as being particularly committed to the analysis of bioethical issues and their backgrounds. Our aim is to promote bioethical research and publishing that goes deeper than a mere dissemination of the everyday surface journalism bioethics. Our investigative contributors, we hope, present more detailed conceptual and historical accounts, with the logic of arguments as well as their underlying presuppositions exposed.
No backward glance would be complete without acknowledging the late, great David Thomasma, one of CQ’s founding editors, whose kind demeanor and razor-sharp intelligence was obvious to anybody fortunate enough to know him. David’s spirit still infuses the journal’s pages.
Our long list of authors is, of course, the reason we carry on and continue to evolve. And to you, our readers: “thank you” hardly begins to convey how we feel about you.
Stay tuned; CQ is just getting started…
