blog.bioethics.net

the fog of academic war

In academic feuds, as in war, there is no telling how far people will go once the shooting starts. - Benedict Carey, NYTimes

What constitutes research? It's a question that's been idly lurking in the back of my mind since I first picked up and read Malcolm Gladwell's book The Tipping Point. Most of my academic colleagues at the time knew that I was fascinated by the science of (social) networks, and it was not uncommon for me to quote Barabasi or Watts in long and passionate chunks. Obviously, then, I should read this book on networks by an author shooting up the NYTimes bestseller list!

So I read it, and walked away with disappointment. Not because the book was bad, but because the book was common. Simple. Which is not to say that there was anything wrong with the book, I simply wasn't the appropriate audience. I had gone looking for scientific rigor, and had found instead a book directed towards lay audiences.

What's the point of this musing about the academic or the popular? An article in today's New York Times details out a longrunning battle in academia over the book The Man Who Would Be Queen by Northwestern's J. Michael Bailey. Bailey's book is intended to explain the biological basis of gender and sexual orientation to a lay audience, but took a controversial approach in doing so, saying

that some people born male who want to cross genders are driven primarily by an erotic fascination with themselves as women. This idea runs counter to the belief, held by many men who decide to live as women, that they are the victims of a biological mistake — in essence, women trapped in men’s bodies. Bailey described the alternate theory, which is based on Canadian studies done in the 1980s and 1990s, in part by telling the stories of several transgender women he met through a mutual acquaintance. In the book, he gave them pseudonyms.

Bailey received praise for the book from a variety of sources, from fellow academics to the Lambda Literary Foundation, which nominated the book for an award. And then the critics started to speak up, and out, and then act out, going so far as to resort to personal (and sexualized) attacks on his children, justifying it as echoing the disrespect in his book.

Into all of this waded Northwestern bioethicist Dr. Alice Dreger, who made the decision to investigate the claims against Bailey herself. Her research, available online and to be published next year, came to one simple conclusion: the accusations against Bailey were groundless, and the book was not scientific research.

By saying that The Man Who Would Be Queen does not meet the federal definition of scientific research, and is anecdotes rather than a systematic investigation, Dreger is able to dismiss the majority of charges of ethical abuses by Bailey - variations on a theme of no informed consent - are brushed away as not relevant. After all, informed consent is a part of academic and scientific research, not anecdotal stories.

Critics say that theories that affect the lives of so many people should be based in good science, and presented responsibly. But what does it mean to practice good science? It might sound like an empty question, but seems like it is more applicable than any of us might want to admit. Is it practicing good science to publish a blog? To write for an audience that doesn't read peer reviewed journals? To aim for a best-seller list?

And maybe more to the point - can it be good science if it's not a popular opinion? If it's controversial, if it challenges the norm? When I last had a "proper" science class, we were taught that the best of good science is that which challenges us to think outside the box, to re-examine our biases and beliefs, and, if necessary, to grow to accept new ideas.

Is it good science to harass the family of a researcher who publishes an opinion you disagree with?

Dr. Dreger answers for us why this is important:

What happened to Bailey is important, because the harassment was so extraordinarily bad and because it could happen to any researcher in the field...If we’re going to have research at all, then we’re going to have people saying unpopular things, and if this is what happens to them, then we’ve got problems not only for science but free expression itself.

And if we're going to have research at all, we're going to have people turning that research into books that explain it to "the average joe", books that commit the sin of being popularized science, provoking thought and dialogue, of expanding who shares in the knowledge, and who becomes inspired to do the next round of research.

-Kelly Hills