The AAA Public Affairs blog has a long post by AAA president Setha Low on “proposed changes to the AAA code of ethics”:http://aaanewsinfo.blogspot.com/2008/09/proposed-changes-to-aaa-code-of-ethics.html that deals with the hue and cry raised at the AAA meetings last year. Why not give the AAA blogs some love, head over, and comment over there?
Tag Archives: Ethics
Research and Mesearch
Although personal transformation is a theme that has a long and deep connection with anthropology, it is also something that can be stigmatized. For me, this sense of stigmatization is encapsulated in a phrase that I have occasionally heard and even used myself in some situations: ‘mesearch’.
The general idea, as far as I can tell, is that mesearch is like research, but that it lacks the virtues of research: where as research is serious, mesearch is superficial, while research is emotionally austere, mesearch is self-indulgent. Research is virtuously other-directed, whereas mesearch is connected to the anthropologist’s self and concerns in a way that is somehow unseemly.
Of course there will always be those, inside anthropology and out, who conceive of themselves as scientists who take up objective and unsentimental relations to their subjects. For these people anything that smacks of personal transformation is mesearch. But often times accusations of ‘mesearch’ have more to do with disagreements over style in anthropological empathy rather than the proposition that there should be any at all.
I have some ideas about how accusations of ‘mesearch’ play out in particular situations but… I think I’ll stop here for now and wait for feedback before I press on to the next topic.
The LSA Ethics Blog
Sometimes I think we don’t give enough credit to AAA — after only a year or two of total inaction since we first suggested the idea, they have gone from no blogging to having four blogs: “In Focus”:http://anthropologynews.blogspot.com/, “Human Rights”:http://aaahumanrights.blogspot.com/, “Public Affairs”:http://aaanewsinfo.blogspot.com/ (although the url is aaanewsinfo — so much for branding) and the “Race blog”:http://understandingrace.org/cs/blogs/race/default.aspx. I’m sure there are some who think this is three too many and that they are all too hard to find and navigate, but I’m glad to see that they have gotten these underway — especially the public affairs blog.
That said though, I’m sort of blown away by the fascinating use of blogging that is happening over at Linguistic Society of America. They are just now drafting an ethics statement and they are doing it “posting each section of the statement as a blog entry and letting people comment on them”:http://lsaethics.wordpress.com/2008/07/. Now that is innovation in blogging. Fascinating.
More on AAA ethics (and HTS)
Inside Higher Ed is running a piece updating the latest news on “attempts to revise the AAA’s ethics code”:http://insidehighered.com/news/2008/03/13/anthro to ban secret research such as that conducted by Human Terrain System employees. The article focuses on how they can word the code to allow contract archaeology and other ‘applied’ work while forbidding the sort of work that gives Hugh Gusterson the heebe jeebes. The debate over HTS temporarily stole away the ‘relevance’ meme from another never-ending debate in anthropology — that of ‘application’ and ‘jobs outside the academy’. Sounds like that issue is now re-emerging as people try to figure out how to produce formal language that will specify exactly which forms of ‘application’ are unethical.
Meanwhile, the ASA is doing a good job of continuing to blog about anthropologists at war over at “the ASA globalog”:http://blog.theasa.org/.
AAA Executive Board Resolution on HTS
I didn’t see that anyone had posted this yet, and though people might be interested in the AAA Executive Board’s resolution against the involvement of anthropology in HTS. From the conclusion:
In the context of a war that is widely recognized as a denial of human rights and based on faulty intelligence and undemocratic principles, the Executive Board sees the HTS project as a problematic application of anthropological expertise, most specifically on ethical grounds. We have grave concerns about the involvement of anthropological knowledge and skill in the HTS project. The Executive Board views the HTS project as an unacceptable application of anthropological expertise.
The Executive Board affirms that anthropology can and in fact is obliged to help improve U.S. government policies through the widest possible circulation of anthropological understanding in the public sphere, so as to contribute to a transparent and informed development and implementation of U.S. policy by robustly democratic processes of fact-finding, debate, dialogue, and deliberation. It is in this way, the Executive Board affirms, that anthropology can legitimately and effectively help guide U.S. policy to serve the humane causes of global peace and social justice.
Update: This seems to be the official link.
My Thoughts on Anthropologists in the Military
With all the discussion about Anthropologists in the military on this blog, I’ve had a long time to think about it. So I figure I should finally have the guts to put my cards on the table and say where I stand on this issue. While its seems that some colleagues on both the left and the right think that this is a clear-cut case of “you are either with us or against us,” I actually think that there are some very complicated issues here which warrant the discussion we’ve been having. I hope that this attempt at formulating my own position will help further that discussion.
True, for anti-imperialist commie pinkos like myself, it initially seems as if its an open-and-shut case. Anthropologists shouldn’t be working with the military. Period. However, even if that’s how some of us feel deep-down, I think we have a moral obligation to articulate the ethical basis for our objections. Since it seems as if Anthropologists in the military are going to be a fact of life for some time to come, we also owe it to our colleagues to begin to articulate our objections as clearly as possible so that we can all work towards finding common ground.
Rage against the Machine
I was thinking about recent discussions on Savage Minds, from Laura’s posts on anthropology and torture, to the petition posted by Oneman when I heard this story on NPR’s On the Media. It discusses how music is being used in interrogations at Guantanamo.
The piece is relevant to Laura’s posts in that the use of music is based on the Army’s own cultural theories about Muslims:
the music that was picked was picked partially because it was aggressive and loud, and it was also meant to be insulting to a Muslim. A lot of very devout Muslims don’t believe they, you know, are allowed to listen to music at all, let alone sort of Western music.
The broadcast, together with a followup piece, also touched on how musicians have reacted to the use of their music in interrogations. This includes efforts to sue the US Government for royalty payments as a kind of protest. The different attitudes of the two bands discussed by David Peisner is interesting. The bassist for Drowning Pool said:
kids in America pay to listen to music. You know, if the worst thing that happens to these guys who are detained that, you know, that they get blasted with loud music for a few hours, I don’t see what the harm is, especially if we might be able to prevent a future terrorist attack.
While the members of Rage Against the Machine “sent letters to the State Department and the Armed Forces to try and stop this from happening.”
I wonder how current debates on this blog would be recast if discussed in terms of music. Would signing a petition against the use of music in interrogation somehow restrict the artistic freedom of musicians? Would failure to sign such a petition meant that artists whose work was used by the military were somehow complicit? Is the really interesting anthropological question the theory of culture in which loud music is considered fun for American youth but torture for Muslims? These are complex issues and I thought it might be interesting to look at them from another angle.
Anthropologists of the World, Unite!
Apropos of the recent discussion of anthropology’s use in torture and other military action, I received notice this morning of an effort launched by several anthros (including David Price, Hugh Gusterson, and Catherine Lutz) to encourage the development of an ethical anthropology and to oppose anthro’s participation in counter-insurgency. Here’s the relevant part of the email:
The Department of Defense and allied agencies are mobilizing anthropologists for interventions in the Middle East and beyond. It is likely that larger, more permanent initiatives are in the works.
Over the last several weeks, we have created an ad hoc group, the Network of Concerned Anthropologists, with the objective of promoting an ethical anthropology. Working together, we have drafted a pledge of non-participation in counter-insurgency, which we have organized as a petition (see attachment). We invite you to become a part of this effort by taking the following steps:
- Download and print the attached pledge (in .pdf format) [. Ask your colleagues to sign the pledge, and promptly send it to us via regular mail. Our address is Network of Concerned Anthropologists, c/o Dept. of Anthropology, George Mason University, 4400 University Drive, MS 3G5, Fairfax, VA 22030 (USA). If it is more convenient, email a .pdf copy of collected signatures and send it to us at concerned.anthropologists@gmail.com.
- Forward this message to your colleagues, and encourage them to sign.
- Join our network by emailing us at concerned.anthropologists@gmail.com. Be sure to include your name, title, and affiliation. We will add you to our email list.
- Visit our web site at http://concerned.anthropologists.googlepages.com/home for more information and updates.
Email us at concerned.anthropologists@gmail.com if you would like more information or if you have questions.
Sincerely yours,
Network of Concerned AnthropologistsCatherine Besteman
Andrew Bickford
Greg Feldman
Roberto Gonzalez
Hugh Gusterson
Gustaaf Houtman
Kanhong Lin
Catherine Lutz
David Price
David Vine
Some general thoughts about anthropology, interrogation, and torture
A few months ago, in a November 2006 post reflecting on the twin Gonzalez-Lin resolutions against the war in Iraq and the use of anthropological knowledge in torture, Rex asked whether anthropologists might be in danger of generating more heat than light. I’ve asked myself the same question. Ever since Sy Hersh published his three-part series on Abu Ghraib in 2004, anthropologists have been worried about the involvement of their counterparts in torture, or the use of ethnographic information in torture. But aside from a lot of people quoting Sy Hersh, over and over and over again, I’ve come across no corroborating evidence of a link between anthropology and Abu Ghraib – or even in plain old GWOT interrogation, for that matter.
As I discuss in an upcoming short piece in Anthropology News (likely to be published in October), I wrote Hersh a letter and asked him to comment on the link between Patai and torture. He actually called me back in July to tell me that he doesn’t think that Patai’s book played a role in Abu Ghraib (yes, you read that right). When I told him that anthropologists took his claims in “The Gray Zone” very much to heart, and that we’d even put forth resolution against the use of anthropological knowledge in torture, Hersh seemed genuinely surprised, and pointed out that he’d never actually written any such thing. Which, strictly speaking, is true. Read the piece here.
So here’s my plea: don’t point to Hersh as evidence of ethnographically informed torture, and when people do point to Hersh’s article as evidence of such, question whether or not there’s anything to corroborate the claim. If you want to go the extra mile, then dig into the documents yourself. There’s plenty of documentation out there that supports research into the problem of ethnographically informed torture. Several organizations, including the Center for Public Integrity, the University of Minnesota Human Rights Library, and the ACLU all maintain extensive electronic archives of FOIA’d documents around interrogation and detention operations involving the DoD, the intelligence community, and the FBI. In 4000-plus pages of reading, I’ve seen no evidence of anthropologists being involved in torture or interrogation. In fact, I’d have to characterize anthropology as conspicuously absent from detention and interrogation operations.
But that doesn’t mean culture isn’t important. Indeed, the Global War on Terrorism constitutes a cultural encounter of some kind – we just haven’t figured out what, precisely, that means. There’s an opportunity for excellent critique, but making our critique relevant requires some new thinking about our own “sources and methods,” to borrow a term from the intelligence community.
In this regard, I liked Keith Brown and Catherine Lutz’s recent article on “grunt lit,” in which they describe soldiers as the “participant-observers of empire” (2007). They argue that anthropologists should pay more attention to soldiers’ memoirs as a window into the confusing and contradictory microdynamics of empire. In doing so, we might learn a lot about the instantiation of empire and the shifting identity of the American nation-state in the post-Cold war, post 9-11 era.
I’ve come to think of the thousands of pages of memos, emails, depositions, forms, reports in the FOIA collections as the electronic precipitates of the Global War on Terrorism. As such, they offer a glimpse into the nature of American empire – which is, among other things, a bewildering conundrum of personnel, agencies, policies, procedures, acronyms, directives, rosters, and the like. In detention and interrogation operations, this Gordian knot of bureaucracy is unleashed on enemy combatants and prisoners of war, most of whom seem to hail from Arabic-speaking regions of Central Asia and the Middle East.
This is where anthropology comes in, but not as instrumentally or formally as many anthropologists seem to have assumed. It’s not that the military-intelligence-security apparatchik systematically sought anthropologists (or even ethnography) to play the role of cultural seer in interrogation. Rather, what’s anthropologically interesting is the way that people within the bureaucracy are actively engaged in making sense of an alien Other, and in doing so, are formulating their own theories and understandings about what makes this Other tick. Moreover, there’s evidence that the Other is engaged in reciprocal effort vis-a-vis guards and interrogators. As such, interrogation itself constitutes a sociocultural encounter of an astoundingly complicated kind. I’ll be writing more about this topic for my next post, using a couple of examples from a collection of FBI observations about detainee treatment at Guantanamo, and talking a bit about Robert Rubinstein’s ideas about culture in peacekeeping operations in a forthcoming book of his.
Introducing Myself
Hello everyone, and thanks to Savage Minds for the nice introduction and the chance to blog about my experience reading government documents about interrogation and torture in the Global War on Terrorism. I desperately need the outlet – it’s been a strange and somewhat lonely experience, simply because I don’t know of any other anthropologists who’ve done the same. (If you have, I’d love to hear from you.)
Before I go any further, let me issue the disclaimer: Chris noted that I work at Sandia National Laboratories – I was at Los Alamos National Laboratories for 6 years, too – but absolutely nothing I write on this blog has anything to do with Los Alamos, the Department of Energy, Sandia National Labs, Lockheed Martin, or anyone who signs my paycheck. In my day job, I pursue fairly technical work among computer scientists and mathematicians, but I won’t be writing about that. Instead, I’ll be blogging about my personal obsession with torture and interrogation. I only point this out because I was criticized as something of a shill for national security community(mostly on the basis of my institutional affiliation, I think) when I wrote a short editorial about Patai and torture in Anthropology Today. So I want to make it very clear that no one is paying me to dig through FOIA’d interrogation documents. This is my own thing, and I pursue it purely for my own interest, and on my own time, and with my own resources, because I find it fascinating, and because the more torture documents I read, the more I’ve come to believe that interrogation and torture are ethnographic problems worth our collective attention. I mean, this stuff is really interesting.
So, now that that’s out of the way, you might be wondering why anyone would spend their weekends downloading, reading, and taking notes on PDFs of poorly scanned, redacted, jumbled, jargon-and-acronym filled government documents. It all started in 2006, when I was asked to lead a roundtable discussion on anthropology and ethics at the inaugural Ethics in Intelligence conference in Springfield, VA. I wanted something more recent than the usual Project Camelot-Vietnam-Franz Boas stories, so I chose the Raphael Patai/sexual humiliation/Abu Ghraib story as a case study to illustrate why anthropologists tend to be hostile to military and intelligence activities. I knew I’d probably have some experienced intelligence and military personnel at the table, so I figured it was a good idea to have more material than just Hersh’s article.
And that’s how this all began. In searching for articles that might shed more light on how Patai’s book had been used in Abu Ghraib, I came across plenty of people citing Hersh. However, I couldn’t find any independent accounts that corroborated his allegations about Patai’s book being linked to torture. Since then, I’ve thought long and hard (obsessively) about torture, anthropology, politics, war, interrogation, critique, and culture, and – as I noted above – it’s been a long, strange, often depressing trip. I am working on a couple of articles about these topics, but in the meantime, I’ll be blogging sporadically about some of the more interesting materials I’ve come across. So – more to come.
Educate your IRB (a boilerplate experiment)
Educate your IRB (a boilerplate experiment)
1. Virtual versus real ethics: creating alternatives to cynicism and disengagement
Very few anthropologists confuse IRB reviews with the “real” ethical work involved in a field project. Anthropologists of all theoretical stripes understand that participant observation-based fieldwork involves the long-term cultivation of social relationships as both the medium and the substantive content of the work. What is more, we know that this cultivation of social relationships must proceed in important respects on ones informants’ terms—not on the researcher’s terms (as is the case in interview-based and experimental social science). Because participant observers aren’t in control of the research process, the ethical challenges that they face in their projects cannot be known in advance and preplanned except in the most general—therefore ultimately vague and inaccurate—ways.
Because participant observation is a necessarily non-methodical method in the preceding paragraph’s sense, IRBs’ mandated insistence on prospective reviews of research designs set anthropologists up to fudge, circumlocute, and fake their descriptions of project “design”, “subject selection”, “informed consent”, and the rest.
That is, so long as structures of ethical accountability are only imaginable in the form of managerial auditing (using unitary compliance criteria external to the historically elaborated disciplinary standards of good practice), practitioners will be forced to simulate consilience with the regulatory ideal so as to appear compliant, cooperative, and transparent—therefore ethical—to their local IRBs.
Continue reading
Constructive, creative coping (a complement to IRB critique)
Following up my previous post, I’d like to open another kind of discussion. Concerning IRBs, we have a wealth of information about the problems researchers of all sorts face (and more on the way in the form, for example, of ethnographic research on IRB process); there have also recently been a number of important critical interventions in the form, for example, of conferences and professional association position papers, with more to come (in the wake, for example, of the recent NY Times article).
Complementing all that, for the immediate short term we also need to build up a stock of creative coping strategies. I suspect that it would be useful to share what we’ve come up with rather than keeping our innovations local.
I am most definitely not suggesting that we devote our attention solely to coping: the November American Ethnologist Forum as a whole — and Katz’s contribution in particular — ought to make that clear. I’m suggesting that institutional isolation makes everyone weak, whereas cross-institutional sharing of productive interventions enables both students and practitioners of field research, oral history interviewing, and other marginalized research styles to continue doing ethical, critical research even as other efforts are under way to protect and expand those possibilities.
Some examples of the creative coping were offered in the November American Ethnologist Forum in Dan Bradburd’s article (on an individual level) and Rick Shweder’s (on an institutional level). Please write in with your local achievements: whether individual, departmental, or college/university-wide. In my next post, I’ll describe a local experiment in what — following my last post — I think of as cross-disciplinary “translation”.
Consent and the Ethics of the ‘Reseach Relation’
1. Consent and preserving the rights of research participants:
About Chris Kelty’s (03/15/07 this site) suggestive comparisons between copyright and informed consent, and particularly the notion that both “actually diminish rights of subjects regarding the control of information, rather than protecting them”: remember that, even though the IRB system is federal (with a central Office of Human Research Protections apparently coordinating the application of regulations), IRBs are local and control their own procedures. As far as I know, IRB researchers agree that local IRB practice “varies”. The point here is that there is no standard IRB consent form.
My institution’s IRB takes a minimalist approach. Our “Standard Adult Consent” form (which, like many other universities’ IRB materials, is available online) is two pages long, the second page devoted simply to contact information. The main page has a place in which the researcher needs to insert a straightforward (non-jargon) description of the project. Apart from this researcher-generated text, the consent form asserts that the signer affirms only that s/he has been informed about what s/he will do as a research participant. The form includes the mandated language (http://www.hhs.gov/ohrp/humansubjects/assurance/consentckls.htm) that participation is voluntary and that consent can be withdrawn and participation discontinued at any time without penalty. But it adds that “By signing this agreement, I do not waive any legal rights or release Princeton University, its agents, or you from liability for negligence”.
This minimalist approach lives up to regulatory requirements and also affirms a best-case interpretation of what the regulations aimed for: it is clearly aimed to avoid creating an institutional shelter.
In contrast, for example—just to use Chris’s institution—the Rice “Consent to Participate” form simply provides the required assurances about the voluntary nature of participation and rights to withdraw without penalties.
It might be interesting to compare other university forms: so folks, what rights does your local IRB consent form protect or not protect?
2. Disciplinary diversity in the ‘researcher relation’ and its ethics:
I agree completely with Tom Strong’s (03/17/07 this site) sense of the contradiction between naming or authorship (associated with IPR claims and their related local values, like the Papua New Guinean ones he mentions) and confidentiality (associated with both ethnographic ethics and IRB emphases). IRBs presume one kind of researcher/researched relation derived from medical research, in which confidentiality makes sense since participants are vulnerable “subjects”. They are brought into lab settings within which–for the resulting data to be usable–information cannot be shared but must be carefully controlled by the reseacher.
But IRBs these days regulate a very wide variety of fields whose methodologies involve diverse research relations. Fields whose reseach relations tend to be collaborative–involving, for example, the sharing of information and other colleague-like assumptions about intellectual and social agency–are closer to the model that Papua New Guineans—and lmichael’ (03/17/07 this site) Amazonian field communities—prefer. They’re quite different from the medical model of the research relation.
Oral History ethics are perhaps the most elaborate in treating “narrators” as the authors of their narratives: going way beyond even recent anthropological practice. The OH convention is for narrators to hold copyright to their own words and to specify who (if anyone) may have access to the transcripts and recordings.
In this consent discussion, John McCreery (03/18/07 this site) invokes “the spirit of free choice”—and the journalist’s allowing on- or off-record commentary. This position appears consistent with the Belmont principle of “respect” (foundational to the regulations that IRBs enforce). Is it? Why does such a stance tend not to make sense to your average IRB?
My answer is that we’re dealing with incommensurable perspectives on the research relation. John’s (or Tom’s or Michael’s or my, etc.) interlocutors are construed (and construe themselves) as autonomous agents, whereas—following the medical model and its frightening worst cases—IRBs are responsible for “human subjects”: persons construed as “vulnerable” and in need of protection. What is more, bureaucratic rationality demands a disinterested consistency. From that central(izing) vantage, our divergent ethical positions don’t sound principled (they are not heard as issuing from different ethical stances) but simply self-interested (unenlightened, irrational).
Very like audit culture (using Marilyn Strathern’s sense of this term), bureaucratic ethics culture defines the dominant language of best practices. It demands that diverse disciplinary research relations be translated, so to speak, into one ethics language. The burden of translation is, as things presently stand, entirely ours.
As Michael Brown’s story suggests, that doesn’t necessarily mean a surrender of our principles…
[UPDATE: Added links for comments, and gave LMichael credit for a comment previously attributed to Michael Brown. – Ed.]
Responses to comments (continued!)
In my earlier post (“Responses to comments…”), part of my responses somehow disappeared. Here’s the missing bit (and sorry for my post-incompetence!):
#3 on inconsistencies and a sneaky plan to heighten the contradictions: John McCreery raises an excellent question. It would be nice if consistency ruled: all researchers should face the same constraints, but they don’t. The irony here is that consistency is one of the core values of bureaucratic ethics management. Consistency is a recurrent refrain on many local IRBs (“…well, if we allow you guys to do away with written informed consent, then we’d have to allow everyone to…”) and it is a key theme at the national level as well.
Ironies aside, as I understand it, there’s an important, fatal flaw in your deliciously sneaky consistency argument: market researchers don’t depend on federal funds to do their work.
Strictly speaking, IRB oversight is only required for institutions (like most universities and colleges) that accept federal research funds. The federal human subject protections regulations (45 Code of Federal Regulations, Pt. 46) were nicknamed “the Common Rule” in 1991 when 17 federal agencies (like NIH) that fund human subjects research all signed on. Rick Shweder’s contribution to our November 2006 American Ethnologist Forum explains that universities and other institutions that accept federal research funds cannot get those funds unless they sign an “assurance” with the relevant funding agencies, or a general Federal Wide Assurance (FWA): documents that obligate them to have one or more local IRBs to review their employees’ research proposals.
Now, as Shweder’s article also explains, university and college IRBs only need to promise to review federally funded research. However, it seems that most of our institutions have gone beyond this minimum requirement and have checked a box on the FWA form that obligates them to review all research, not just federally funded research! (Folks all over the place are looking in to this situation at their institutions: I recommend that you make friends with someone in your institution’s counsel’s office and look in to it too!) In any case, over the past five or six years of IRB “hypervigilance” (the situation that prompted the AE Forum) boards have been jittery and have tended to review all research regardless of how it is funded, regardless of whether their FWA obligates them to do so or not.
Responding to John’s question about the existence of guidelines parallel to those on which IRBs are founded: I can think of one that, while still being at least partially academic, is interesting nonetheless. Check out the National Academy of Sciences “On Being a Scientist” booklet (available online at http://bob.nap.edu/readingroom/books/obas/ ), which concerns science research ethics very generally. This is another example of the inconsistencies mentioned above: unlike the IRB oversight of research with human participants, these general (mostly non-human participant research) guidelines are completely voluntary even tho the research is very likely to be federally funded!
#4 on the roots of the IRB problems in disciplinary ‘cultures of research’: Another terrific question! My responses to other folks’ questions contain bits and pieces of an answer to this one (as does my AE Forum paper). But a fuller response would be the paper I mention in my comment on #5 (below). My contribution to the Cornell conference was a paper entitled “Comparative ‘Research’: A Modest Proposal Concerning the Regulatory Object” (which I’ll be ready to make available in a few weeks). In my view, the problems go way, way beyond the IRB context and derive exactly from the “cultures of research” of which IRB members and the rest of us are part. My own long-term research has been all about disciplinarity and interdisciplinarity—that is, engagements like those cross-disciplinary discussions concerning methodology you mention. As I explained in my AE paper, IRB discourse is just one of my “fieldsites” (which include other places in which disciplinary practitioners bump up against one another, as well as fractious intra-disciplinary moments of ethical crisis). But it’s a fieldsite in which everyone is implicated and consequently of great interest. My AE paper unpacks the Common Rule “definition of research” a bit; and it also begins to address exactly the issues you identify concerning how ethnographic fieldwork is understood by folks from other disciplines (and vice versa). Check it out.
#5 on the relationship between IRB and intellectual property issues: If Michael Brown is still out there, what do you think about the relationship between IRB surveillance and the management of intellectual property contradictions?
Different institutional mechanisms are at play with respect to intellectual property and IRB controversies. For one thing, the IRB system exists outside of (or prior to) legal mechanisms for dealing with accusations about misrepresentation (libel laws), privacy, and the like. This is a huge issue: several of us refer to it in the AE Forum (and anyone interested in following this might also check outhttp://irbinfo.blogspot.com/ and follow references to Hamburger’s Supreme Court Review paper). In a paper that I wrote for a Cornell Law School-hosted conference on “Bureaucracies of Virtue”, I suggested that we’d be better off (and our informants no worse off) if our work were held to account in the same ways that the work of journalists and other writers are. As I understand the current situation, IRB reviews do not protect us or our institutions from lawsuits (that is, whether or not consent forms are involved, IRB reviews don’t prevent our interlocutors from suing us). As things stand, many critics see IRB reviews as constituting censorship-like prior review (arguably a kind of “prior restraint”, something that the First Amendment protects against).
“Research” as not-Therapy (or: Why “research” is dangerous and must be controlled): An IRB origin tale
In his comment on my earlier post, Kerim wrote that it would be interesting to see how IRB regulations work for “examples which are supposed to be paradigmatic” (medical research). I agree. Doing so really exposes the fundamental impotence of the rules (despite mighty efforts by droves of well-intentioned, clever rule-writers). While ethnographers and biomedical experimenters do face analogous disconnections between regulatory prescriptions and the inevitable surprises of actual research practice, exploring the problems that medical folks in particular face brings us back to the regulatory system’s “origin place”. It brings us back to the problem that the rules were meant to solve but never did.
I’ll summarize the argument—part of the forthcoming PoLAR article, “Comparative ‘Research’” (mentioned in earlier posts)—versions of which also appear less centrally in my 2006 AE paper.
I begin with the observation that there is no such thing as Research-in-general: there is no suite of ideals or traits shared by all the practices to which the term “research” usually refers. Instead, there are diverse, historically specific, socially organized ways of knowing the world, in shifting partial relations with one another, as well as ambivalent relations with particular non- and quasi-research activities (from journalism or travel writing to stage magic or, as we will see below, therapy).
Bureaucratic regulation cannot tolerate such incoherence. To control human-subjects research, variation must be bracketed so as to create a stable object with clear boundaries. Criteria must be found for deciding when instances of “research” begin and end, and for deciding what is and is not “research”.
However, research involving human beings persistently resists reductive objectification in the interest of consistency. This is true not just among the ornery humanistic social studies but also in biomedicine and other unambivalently science-identified fields whose research models fit the Common Rule definition.
So why bother? Why did “research” with human participants come to be viewed as in need of regulation (and therefore agonizing definition)?
The IRB definition of research was designed originally to provide a means of eradicating a potentially lethal ambiguity, specific to medical practice, concerning when “therapy” ends and “research” begins. This danger, publicized in the 1960s and early 1970s, is central to the history of the US federal regulations (for lots of bibliographic leads, see that November AE again).
But the design was flawed: the original ambiguity is still with us.
Human-subjects research regulations (45 CFR, Pt. 46, known as the Common Rule: see Chris Kelty’s Savage Mind 2/8/06, on which I hope to comment soon!)—formally set in place in the late 1970s/early 1980s—derive from earlier NIH guidelines that reflect specifically biomedical background assumptions. These assumptions go something like this:
1. Since it concerns directly improving the wellbeing of particular individuals, medical therapy is appropriately evaluated in terms of individual patient interests.
2. In contrast, since medical research concerns the production of knowledge “generalizable” beyond individual cases, it is appropriately evaluated in terms of the interests of science and society at large.
3. It follows that—since a concern for individuals isn’t inherent to the definition of “research” the way it is to the definition of “therapy”—even though physical risks to persons are associated with both medical therapy and research, the risks to individuals are qualitatively more serious in research
4. Consequently, “research” (in this sense) needs special oversight.
These specific background assumptions are evident in regulatory provisions that, firstly, limit risk/benefit calculi to research “emas distinguished from risks and benefits of therapies/em” and that, secondly, exclude from consideration the “long range effects of applying knowledge” (45 CFR 46.111[a][2]). “Research” is not “therapy”: not the emapplication/em of medical knowledge to individual persons (applications normally enabled when research results are published and made available to practicing physicians). The medical rationale of regulatory distinctions is just as evident in the definition of “human subject”, but I won’t discuss that here.
Now, while Common Rule regulations were applied widely to federally-financed non-biomedical research from the start, the idea of research-as-not-therapy does not translate readily outside of biomedicine. For example, cancer patients participating in clinical trials of new cancer therapies can compare the likelihood of a direct personal benefit from new knowledge against the risk of harm in the research process itself. In contrast, social research rarely promises practical payoffs to its participants. Its benefits tend to be indirect and its harms are located less in the research process than in its products.
Not only is research-as-not-therapy untranslatable across fields, but the regulatory definition did not even do away with the ambiguities within medical practice. Heroic efforts of clarification can be found in works that interpret the Common Rule for IRBs, like the IRB Guidebook (www.hhs.gov/ohrp/irb/irb_guidebook.htm). Nevertheless, to this day it continues to be a frequent topic of debate in IRB circles.
I’ll stop here for now. In the full length treatment of this argument, I offer an extended example of problem solving discussions among experienced biomedical IRB insiders concerning how the medical therapy/research distinction might be operationalized in particular cases. Such discussions—which happen all the time—demonstrate very clearly that it is effectively impossible in practice to distinguish clearly between when “therapy” ends and “research” begins: when innovations in the care of a particular patient with an unusual condition ought to be treated as research (worth publishing, in need of an IRB review). The regulations offer no solution to this problem.
More soon.