Science Policy Should Be Independent Of Political And Ideological Concerns

A half-century ago, United States Gen. George V. Strong wrote a letter denying Albert Einstein a security clearance to work on the Manhattan Project. The general apparently based his decision on allegations that the physicist was an "extreme radical" and would be a security risk. He was neither of these. Nevertheless, he was at the center of the most striking effort to smuggle ideology into science in U.S. history. Unfortunately, the practice seems to persist. The Bush administration last year indefinitely extended a ban on federal financial support for experiments using fetal tissue. Use of the tissue, obtained from elective abortions, was strongly opposed by antiabortion groups. Those who support the research suggest that the investigations could advance the treatment of diabetes and Parkinson's and Alzheimer's diseases. The decision by the Department of Health and Human Services (HHS) has been criticized as ideologically motivated, and it is. What is common to the apparently dissimilar cases of weapons development and biomedical research is an official line on an ideological or political issue. Like official criteria for "acceptable" art or like loyalty oaths, such a line amounts to official disdain for principles a tolerant government ought to maintain. Similarly, much of the dispute over research using the abortifacient RU-486 has been driven not by researchers evaluating scientific merit, but by antiabortion lobbyists pursuing a special policy agenda. Lest this be understood as yet another tirade in defense of abortion, none of the foregoing should be taken to suggest that scientific research ought to be morally neutral or without moral obligation. Fetal-tissue, abortifacient, and certainly weapons research raise important and difficult ethical questions. In the case of fetal-tissue research, these questions have led the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists and the American Fertility Society to establish the National Advisory Board on Ethics and Reproduction. Such an organization represents one way to address the ethical issues. But to acknowledge that a branch of research raises ethical questions is one matter; to presume answers to those questions and then to try to alter science policy is quite another. Indeed, it might be said that a mark of an ideologue is just this kind of presumption and just this sort of attempt to influence policy--all at the beginning of a debate on which reasonable and well-intentioned people can disagree. Consider the administration's recent announcement that it intends to nominate Bernadine P. Healy, a Cleveland cardiologist, to direct the National Institutes of Health. Antiabortion groups have suggested they will oppose Healy's nomination because she was a member of a federal advisory panel that in 1988 endorsed use of federal grants for research involving fetal tissue. Healy's nomination requires Senate confirmation. If the ideologues have their way, one might reasonably expect a display similar to those that accompany confirmation hearings for Supreme Court nominees. The problem with making political or ideological decisions in non-political matters should be obvious. Positions based on "ideological correctness" undermine the rule of law in favor of the opinions of partisans. Yet even as we line up to dance on the grave of totalitarian communism, the U.S. government refuses to support, even hinders, a branch of scientific research for reasons only a politburo could love. To be sure, returning to Einstein, it would have been absurd to run the Manhattan Project without tight security, and it would be wrong to perform abortions solely for the purpose of obtaining tissue samples for research. But by banning Einstein from, and federal support for, scientific research, the government has gone further than security and policy considerations require. For the sake of historical perspective, consider that it was simply false that Einstein was a security risk. Documents released in 1989 after a Freedom of Information Act request included a biographical sketch of Einstein prepared in 1940, apparently at the request of then Army intelligence Lt. Col. J. Edgar Hoover. According to one passage, "It is the belief of this office that Professor Einstein is an extreme radical, and that a great deal of material on him can be found in the files of the State Department." The Einstein materials were released by the General Services Administration National Archives and Records Service to Dr. Richard A. Schwartz, an associate professor of English and former associate director of the Institute for Public Policy and Citizenship Studies at Florida International University in Miami. He published an article based on the documents in Isis, the journal of the History of Science Society. An earlier request by Schwartz turned up selections from a 1,500-page file in which the FBI carefully recorded allegations that Einstein was a leader of a communist attempt to take over Hollywood, was behind the Lindbergh kidnapping, and was building a mind-control robot. Yet it is known that Einstein wanted to contribute to the war effort and, even after being denied security approval, helped government scientists solve problems in gaseous diffusion, by which bomb-grade uranium is separated from isotopes of the element. According to Einstein biographer Ronald W. Clark, Einstein did not make copies of his calculations for fear they might fall into the wrong hands. What emerges is one of the Atomic Age's most remarkable ensemble of ironies: Einstein discovered the equivalence of matter and energy that makes the bomb possible; he later urged his adopted country, the U.S., not to let enemies exploit the discovery; he was excluded on ideological grounds from the resulting project; he nevertheless discreetly helped out with theoretical aspects of bomb making; and he finally came to regret the whole affair. But there is no evidence to suggest he was a security risk. Nevertheless, on July 26, 1940, Strong wrote a letter denying the physicist a security clearance to work on the Manhattan Project. (The letter has apparently been lost and was not included in the documents Schwartz obtained.) The lesson for those who would apply ideological tests in the creation of public policy or the conduct of scientific inquiry is the same as the lesson now being learned by Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union. It is this: Adherence to a party line or received opinion will ruin economies, retard research, and squander human resources. The point was not entirely lost on Louis W. Sullivan, the secretary of Health and Human Services. Before he extended the ban on federal financing of fetal-tissue research, Sullivan promised that applicants and appointees for Department of Health and Human Services jobs--including the directorship of NIH--would no longer be questioned about their views on abortion. The vow came after initial NIH candidates were quizzed about their personal beliefs. The wisdom behind such promises should be applied to all areas in which "ideological correctness" or hidden agendas serve only to subvert deeper principles. Kenneth Goodman is research editor at Carnegie Mellon University's Center for Machine Translation, an associate at the university's Center for the Advancement of Applied Ethics, and an associate at the University of Pittsburgh's Center for Medical Ethics.

Science Policy Should Be Independent Of Political And Ideological Concerns

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