Abstract
Approaches to public engagement in biosciences and biotechnologies have been informed by work done by sociologists and science and technology studies (STS) scholars, in particular their critiques of traditional elitist and technocratic approaches to science policy. In this article, we analyse one attempt at institutionalising public engagement in Australia, and focus on points of tension between different actors. We explore the roles of social scientists in policy and in public engagement, and the potential for opening up discussions and decision-making about the biosciences and biotechnologies. We reflect on the difficulties for social scientists in maintaining a critical yet constructive voice and draw attention to care as a possible ethico-political commitment and practice that may create opportunities and spaces for improving public engagement and policy making.
Keywords
Introduction: towards public engagement in biosciences and emerging technologies
The biosciences and biotechnologies, which come under the umbrella of bio-knowledge, bring into being a range of entities, such as plants genetically modified to contain genes from animals, human cells derived from embryos and grown in animal cell cultures, nano-scale structures to deliver cancer drugs into the body, or living organisms made-to-order by synthetic biologists. They combine technical and intellectual, but also social and political work (for instance to construct a new area of biosciences as innovative but not socially disruptive; see Jasanoff, 2005). They reconfigure ‘life itself’ (Rose, 2007) and transform norms and understandings of socio-technical relations (e.g. Bowker and Star, 1999; Callon and Rabeharisoa, 2008; Epstein, 1996; Kowal, 2013; Thompson, 2005; Van der Ploeg, 2001; Waldby, 2002). Some areas of bio-knowledge become normalised (temporarily stabilised and accepted), but others continue to create visible public disquiet. Public disquiet has also been associated, over a number of decades, with the privatisation and commercialisation of bio-knowledge. This has complicated the governance of these areas and the role of governments (and researchers) in variously building capacity for, supporting and regulating emerging biosciences and biotechnologies (Krimsky, 2004).
Science and technology studies (STS) scholars have for decades been highlighting the importance of understanding science and technology, including the biosciences and biotechnologies, in their complex, multiple and changing social, political and cultural contexts. 1 They have shown that there are multiple forms of expertise and knowledge relevant to science and technology and its governance, beyond that of certified technical expertise (Collins and Evans, 2002; Irwin and Wynne, 1996; Wynne, 1996). Many have advocated a range of participatory forms of public engagement 2 in science and democratic modes of science policy making to promote institutional reflexivity and perhaps increased trust in science (e.g. Durant, 1999; Irwin, 2001; Jasanoff, 2003; Parry et al., 2012; Schibeci and Harwood, 2007; Wynne, 1996).
Partly because of continued public concern towards some areas of the biosciences, and partly because of the above-mentioned calls for democratisation, there have been tentative shifts by science and policy institutions towards inclusive public engagement in science and science governance. In some instances, STS scholars have been invited into the ‘policy room(s)’ (Nowotny, 2007; Webster, 2007) to advise on future directions for science and technology and give advice on public engagement. Webster (2007: 459) has called for a furthering of this ‘serviceable STS’ which addresses some of the needs of policy makers and can constructively, yet still critically, contribute to science policy. This in many ways parallels the call made by Burawoy for ‘public sociology’ that draws on reflexive knowledge which ‘interrogates the value premises of society as well as our profession’ (2005: 269) in order to serve civil society.
The difficulties encountered by both serviceable STS and public sociology highlight the complexities in attempting to engage with diverse sections of society (including policy makers) (Burawoy, 2009; Burchell, 2009; Calvert and Martin, 2009; Lynch, 2009; Lynch and Cole, 2005; Wynne, 2007). In particular, when critiquing the status quo and making normative claims about science and society, there is a tension in maintaining a critical voice as well as a pragmatic approach that enables future invitations back into policy rooms. 3 This has led Latour (2004) to argue that critique has ‘run out of steam’. There is a need, then, to examine public sociology/serviceable STS in practice and reflect on the best way sociology and STS can fruitfully contribute to science policy and to improved science–society relations more broadly, without losing its identity and critical edge.
We suggest that an approach informed by STS can contribute to what Petersen (2013) calls a ‘normative sociology of bio-knowledge’, one that takes us beyond ethical principlism and a focus on ethical, legal and social impacts (ELSI); both of these marginalise broader ethical and socio-political issues in policy and governance (Ferrari and Nordmann, 2010; Williams, 2006). Petersen puts forward an approach based on the sociology of human rights, which brings into focus global injustice and how it can play out in particular sites. We argue that the concept of ‘care’ can be a valuable addition (especially as developed by Mol, 2008; Puig de la Bellacasa, 2011, further discussed below). We consider ways in which caring can contribute to the delicate operation of ‘opening up’ (Stirling, 2008) decisions and discussions about the biosciences and biotechnologies, making it possible to ask broader questions about the assumptions underpinning them.
Case study and approach
We examine the development of a best practice framework for public engagement in science and technology: Science and Technology Engagement Pathways (STEP). STEP arose from the work of a public awareness and community engagement (PACE) program under the National Enabling Technologies Strategy (NETS), which ran from 2009 to 2013. The latter was set up and funded by the Australian government, within its innovation portfolio. STEP was co-designed by stakeholders and members of the public 4 in a range of workshops: separate stakeholder workshops with industry, government (including other relevant departments and agencies) and researchers (including social scientists, natural scientists and engagement practitioners); a public workshop involving 45 ‘innocent’ citizens (Irwin, 2001); and a multi-stakeholder forum (including publics) from which the STEP framework was developed (later refined through online discussion). The framework was implemented and tested in a series of engagement forums, called ‘STEP into the Future’, held in different locations around the country (focused on different topics, e.g. synthetic biology, nanotechnology). The NETS program ended in 2013 and neither NETS nor STEP was re-funded. 5
We present a reflexive sociological study of STEP by two people involved in the process. Russell managed STEP’s development while employed as a public servant under NETS. She was responsible for the design and organisation of the various engagements, coordination of the co-design process, and implementation of STEP in ‘STEP into the Future’. She drew on her research interests in STS and Technology Assessment, and was also motivated by her interest in transdisciplinary inquiry. Marks was invited to participate as an academic social scientist with expertise in biotechnology governance and STS critiques of public engagement in science. She participated in a stakeholder workshop, in the multi-stakeholder workshop and in one of the ‘STEP into the Future’ events (on synthetic biology). The study draws on our experience and observation of the events, as well as on our interpretations of the reports, feedback (collected by independent evaluators) and outcomes. While Marks’ role was closer to the classic role of social scientist brought in to provide ‘social expertise’ to public engagement work, Russell’s role was more unusual, and lay somewhere between an ethnographic ‘laboratory’ study (but in a policy context) and transdisciplinary action research.
This article contributes to the growing literature on reflexive analyses of public engagement (Calvert and Martin, 2009; Chilvers, 2013; Goven, 2006; Irwin, 2001, 2006). We are not attempting what Lynch calls ‘reflexive objectification’ (2000: 30–1) where analysts are thought to have a more detached and true understanding of the situation; rather, we apply critical tools from sociology and STS to examine this process of public engagement and our roles in it, and propose alternative (to mainstream instrumental approaches) ways of thinking and doing public engagement (what Lynch might call ‘interpretative reflexivity’, 2000: 32–3).
In what follows, we highlight theoretical contributions from STS that can underpin a constructive approach that stays committed to some of the critical roots of STS, but aims to avoid ‘corrosive’ critique (explained below). We then examine our case study, STEP, considering its positioning within a policy setting and its contributions to opening up discussions about a range of biosciences and biotechnologies. We look at examples and opportunities for critique and care, and how public engagement approaches like STEP may create space for a normative sociology of bio-knowledge. We also consider the difficulties encountered by STS scholars and sociologists when they engage with researchers and practitioners from other fields. We then discuss the overall limitations and opportunities for a constructive, sociological approach and reflect on the implications for future encounters between social science, publics and bio-knowledge.
Critique, pragmatism and care
As mentioned above, there is some evidence of a shift, at least at the discursive level, towards more deliberative and inclusive forms of governance of science and technology. However, a number of studies have shown that unacknowledged normative assumptions (Wynne, 2006) or ‘latent premises’ (Russell et al., 2010) – what Burawoy might call ‘value premises’ – constrain this shift. These premises limit who can be invited into a policy room, who, once there, can talk and be heard, and what they will be able to talk about (e.g. Chilvers, 2008; Delgado et al., 2011; Felt and Wynne, 2007; Irwin, 2001; Macnaghten et al., 2005).
This situation leads to double disenchantment. On the one hand STS scholars continue to highlight the limitations of public engagement exercises and the silencing of lay voices and alternative forms of expertise (e.g. Chilvers, 2013; Goven, 2006; Kurian and Wright, 2012; Lyons and Whelan, 2010; Petersen and Bowman, 2012; Stirling, 2008). On the other hand, those who commission programs of public engagement feel constantly criticised and that critics have inadequate understanding of real-world constraints (see Cormick, 2009). The latter also find it difficult to accommodate the various interests: publics, social science scholars, scientists, politicians, policy makers and other stakeholders (Hendriks et al., 2007). This tension is at the heart of the present case study.
Latour (2004) argues that social sciences, including sociology and STS, should move away from always criticising what others hold dear (‘don’t you see that your attempt at engagement is flawed because of hidden interests and power differences?’) while at the same time refusing critique of the things that we hold dear (sociology, participation …). He is concerned that the critical social scientist will end up isolated from the very people and practices s/he wants to influence: ‘The Zeus of Critique rules absolutely, to be sure, but over a desert’ (Latour, 2004: 239). Latour argues that social scientists should move from deconstructing ‘matters of fact’ towards assembling ‘matters of concern’ (2004: 232). So the new social science critic does not debunk scientists’ views that there are, somewhere out there, indisputable matters of fact which are given by nature (devoid of contexts, social dimensions or histories), and which can be revealed and called upon to close controversies. Instead, in a caring way (following Haraway’s calls for care in reconstructing those things we deconstruct), s/he ‘assembles’: s/he makes visible what makes up matters of concern (e.g. people, worries, socio-technical artefacts, organisational values) and brings them together to negotiate how disagreements may be temporarily settled (Latour, 2004, 2008).
More specifically, matters of concern, for Latour, ‘matter’ and have to be ‘liked’ (2008: 47–8): they do not simply exist in some kind of pure, but uninteresting, state; they are built. The social scientist examines for whom and how they matter. Matters of concern have to be ‘populated’ (2008: 48): they are affective entanglements (‘gatherings’) of human and non-human actors, including for example biologists, histories, temporarily stabilised social arrangements and bacteria. Finally, matters of concern need to be ‘durable’ (2008: 48): they should be ‘kept up, cared for, accompanied, restored, duplicated, saved’ by a range of actors (2008: 49).
Latour’s vision encourages social scientists to politely interact with other actors in assembling these matters of concern. This vision has been criticised for not allowing difficult questions to be asked (e.g. about justice) and for excluding important critical voices (Papadopoulos, 2011: 187). Puig de la Bellacasa (2010, 2011, 2012) takes on board Latour’s apprehension of Zeus-like essentialising and totalising critiques. Borrowing from Haraway (e.g. 1991) she calls these ‘corrosive’ critiques (Puig de la Bellacasa, 2011: 91, 2012: 204): they alienate those who are being criticised and prevent any fruitful future conversations. However, she rejects Latour’s call to avoid all critique. She builds on his interest in care, and suggests social scientists highlight the often undervalued labours of care that are part of matters of concern (2011: 93), pay attention to exclusion, and assemble matters of concern in ways to encourage care and ‘caring relationships’ (2011: 100); this involves critique, but hopefully does not unquestioningly resort to ready-made solutions or impose worldviews in exclusionary ways (2011: 100).
She builds on Tronto’s understanding of care as: everything that we do to maintain, continue and repair ‘our world’ so that we can live in it as well as possible. That world includes our bodies, ourselves, and our environment, all that we seek to interweave in a complex, life-sustaining web. (Tronto, cited in Puig de la Bellacasa, 2010: 164)
She focuses on caring as relations, and not as a moral position that can be used to argue for one’s moral superiority; she labels it an ‘ethico-political commitment to neglected things’ (2011: 100). This might include thinking and speaking with, as well as dissenting from, but attempts to avoid speaking on behalf of (2012, see also discussion below).
Also of relevance here, Mol (2008), building in part on Tronto’s work and in a way sympathetic to Latour’s argument about the importance of assembling matters of concern, has discussed a ‘logic of care’, as an alternative to a ‘logic of choice’ common in health settings. Like Bellacasa, Mol emphasises the nature of care as a practice – an interaction rather than a transaction – involving a ‘calm, persistent but forgiving effort to improve the situation’ (Mol, 2008: 20). So for both Mol and Bellacasa, care is not a universalising, totalising ethical principle, rather it is about doing things with care, where caring is different in different situations (see also Mol et al., 2010: 13). More specifically, acting with an ethos of care is about ‘persistently tinkering in a world full of complex ambivalence and shifting tensions’ (Mol et al., 2010: 14).
Barnes (2008) has also referred to an ethic of care in relation to deliberation. She calls for deliberative processes in social policy contexts that are able to cope with ‘emotional morality’, that is the affective and emotional dimensions that accompany moral reasoning and are associated with the emotional content of experiences, values and the consequences of decisions. This resonates here: discussions of science and technology are often thought of as ‘hard’, objective domains (matters of fact), but a caring approach to biosciences and biotechnologies, we think, must also be capable of containing, supporting and valuing this emotional morality.
A normative sociology of bio-knowledge with care in a central role is one that supports the building of new knowledge about biosciences and biotechnologies, and their embeddedness within society, in ways that try to make visible, and therefore changeable, asymmetries in power and unacknowledged latent premises (including our own); it recognises that bio-knowledge, like other knowledges, is ‘world-making’ (Puig de la Bellacasa, 2010, 2011). This sociology draws on critical insights from STS and sociology but aims to stay away from corrosive critique, recognising that drawing out the difference between corrosive and useful critique is a central challenge; it creates spaces to ‘assemble’ ‘matters of concern’; and it practices care by gathering neglected things and voices, not simply by stating good intentions. This sociology may be disruptive but is also constructive. This reminds us that we must take responsibility for the things we assemble (Latour, 2004), because, as Haraway (1991) argues, these can be hurtful in different ways (see also Marks, 2012; Van der Ploeg, 2001).
This article, then, contributes to a normative sociology of bio-knowledge by examining the dimensions (potential and actual) of care in a particular instance of public engagement in the biosciences and biotechnologies. Specifically, we explore examples of, opportunities for, and tensions with careful tinkering by organisers of public engagement who aim to create spaces for a range of actors (including often-marginalised ones) to move beyond clashes over matters of fact and towards assembling matters of concern. We also examine the tensions for social scientists when they enter policy settings and try to carefully assemble their matters of concern (e.g. the need for inclusive public discussions about biosciences) with those of other actors. We highlight examples of care in practice, in particular the ones that may open up difficult discussions and questions about bio-knowledge.
STEP: opportunities and tensions for serviceable STS/public sociology
The spaces that STEP created – policy side rooms?
Australia has a relatively marginal position in relation to the global biotechnology industry. This means that the private sector is less dominant in setting the innovation agenda here than, for example, in the US. There is pressure for the government to support industry, including by promoting public acceptance of emerging science and technologies. Australian government agencies have seen a role here for public engagement. 6 The public awareness and community engagement (PACE) program was therefore an important part of the National Enabling Technology Strategy (NETS), with a remit to improve its community engagement work (Russell, 2013). NETS-PACE received a significant proportion of the budget as well as rhetorical support from within NETS and from the then Minister, Senator Kim Carr. However, this did not mean that it was central to policy advice or development, which was dealt with by a separate (though connected) policy program.
Salter and Jones (2006: 350) argue that ‘core’ policy actors (and agencies) are those that align with the current dominant ‘policy paradigm’ and are thereby given cultural authority. While what counts as the core and the periphery may change over time, this way of thinking about policy highlights that the creation of a program or other entity ostensibly connected to policy is not sufficient to create policy-change. If the new entity does not align its ways of thinking and doing with the dominant policy paradigm (or transform the dominant paradigm), it will remain at the periphery and will struggle to have any influence.
So while NETS-PACE was part of the overall government strategy on enabling technologies, its role in public engagement (which might enable people to articulate opposition to an area of biosciences) does not necessarily align with the policy paradigm of NETS, which was supportive of the tellingly labelled ‘enabling technologies’. As such, NETS-PACE and the STEP program remained at the periphery of policy, with an implicit role in ‘managing’ both stakeholder and public responses to emerging technologies, particularly when those responses were negative. Specifically, while STEP was praised and supported within the department, it did not have a policy mandate; it could create a framework for ‘best practice’ in public engagement, but there was no promise that this would ever become government policy.
Therefore, we argue that the spaces created by STEP for assembling matters of concern were not ‘policy rooms’ proper (Nowotny, 2007; Webster, 2007). While we accept Nowotny’s (2007: 480) argument that it is difficult to point exactly to where policies are made (given the co-constitution of science, technology, policy and society, and given the complex and multi-sited influences on policies), we follow Webster’s usage of the word here and deploy the label ‘policy room’ to indicate spaces where government policy is made; ‘the institutional space occupied by established science and technology policy’ (Webster, 2007: 461). We are talking here for instance about where moratoria on genetically modified crops may be instituted, or where regulatory frameworks for nanotechnology may be set up. Policy making did not happen in STEP spaces, although policy actors were invited in with other stakeholders.
Nowotny argues that there might be important policy-related rooms (i.e. not policy rooms proper but rooms where discussions and decisions may influence policy), situated ‘below the upper floor’ (2007: 480). However, we like to think of the STEP spaces in a less hierarchical way as occupying ‘side rooms’; connected to policy rooms, with access to policy issues, and with some degree of policy legitimacy and potential impact. Indeed, although on the margin, these ‘side rooms’ opened up a number of possibilities, in particular because they were not as constrained by institutional structures (Papadopoulos, 2011: 183–5). It was therefore possible to construct new spaces: new knowledge spaces (Webster, 2007), where neglected things could be ‘assembled’ (Latour, 2004; Puig de la Bellacasa, 2011). Overall, STEP was both less influential and less constrained than its position in government might have suggested.
Framing of the side rooms: the importance of critical insights
Critique was an important driver of the STEP process. Social science academics (e.g. Kyle and Dodds, 2009; Lyons and Whelan, 2010) and non-governmental organisations (NGOs) including environmental, consumer health and union groups had been critical of NETS in an ongoing way; addressing (managing) this critique was a rationale for initiating the engagement process. So in an important sense, radical critique of the usual approach to the governance of the biosciences and emerging technologies was a key reason for STEP to start.
Importantly though, in the way STEP was conducted, these critical views were not simply managed away. Russell was interested in using STEP to bring together the above critics and the people who supported the approaches they were criticising. The hope was that assembling and making visible these different matters of concern (about risk governance, about the importance of emerging technologies in Australia’s future prosperity, etc.) would open up normative assumptions and latent premises underlying decision makers’, but also social scientists’ and NGOs’, approaches to emerging technologies and public engagement.
Russell also deployed her own critical background in STS and Technology Assessment to bring these insights into the STEP side rooms. She drew on STS arguments that participatory, rather than elitist, approaches to governance and public engagement are important to open up the aforementioned normative assumptions. As such, the spaces created by STEP were based on critical insights about engagement processes (how we should talk about emerging science and technology), but not about content (what we should talk about, what risk is, etc.). Inevitably, tensions arose at the juxtaposition of diverse perspectives (similar to findings by Hendriks et al., 2007).
Tensions in the side rooms
An important early tension involved different conceptions of the nature and role of public engagement in emerging biotechnology development. Scientists focused on education, while industry representatives discussed ‘acceptance’ as a goal of engagement. This was despite the framing by Russell and introductory material that aimed to encourage a broader view of engagement. For example, Russell, in setting the context for the multi-stakeholder workshop, described a spectrum of approaches to involving publics in science and technology decision-making. She emphasised the shift from technocracy, to public education campaigns, to participatory approaches in public engagement, a shift influenced by STS. She asked participants to design potential engagement activities for STEP, specifically ones that would involve citizens in decision-making. Despite this, the scientists in particular remained committed to educational approaches.
Marks, in interacting with scientists in this exercise, was frustrated by their education focus, which included suggestions for better web-pages, more outreach activities, education brochures, etc. She was, however, hesitant to bring her radical-critical insights to contradict them (perhaps by highlighting the social construction of bio-knowledge and sociological findings that mistrust of science does not necessarily reflect misunderstanding). Her reluctance was in part due to some of these scientists earlier highlighting how difficult it was for them to be involved in STEP at all, and thus performing ‘suffering’ (Brown and Michael, 2002) to indicate authentic commitment to the process. 7
Here, Marks and Russell’s matters of concern – opening up spaces for public involvement – could not be ‘assembled’ (in Latour and Puig de la Bellacasa’s sense) with scientists’ need to create public support through science education. Nonetheless, these different matters of concern were made visible through these discussions, and opened up avenues for Russell to bring them together through ‘tinkering’ with the framing of future events.
In a subsequent ‘STEP into the Future’ project on nanotechnology and energy, participants were asked to think through different ways of defining the ‘energy problem’ in Australia. Russell, in framing the interaction in this way, was hoping to encourage discussion of the wider issue of how technology development is influenced by problem definition. While some of the scientists again took on the role of educators, and publics took on the role of learners (similar to Kerr et al., 2007), some groups did engage in fresh conversations about these broader underlying assumptions. They thus aligned with Russell’s as well as others’ matter of concern, and these assumptions were opened up for further discussion. Further tinkering by Russell led to a later project on nanotechnology and informed choice involving a citizen panel process being designed with clear separation between information provision and deliberation. An information evening was held, in which participants were presented with one-page briefs from a panel of key informants representing different perspectives, expertise and views on the topic; they also interacted with this panel in a question and answer session. However, their deliberations – in a modified world café and a ‘dotmocracy’ 8 session – did not involve the ‘expert’ panel and were facilitated by an independent facilitator. In this case, citizens were able to deliberate without the influence of ‘experts’; the latter said they were impressed with ‘how engaged’ the citizen panel was. This suggests some aspects of scientists’ matters of concern regarding science–public interactions could be re-assembled with social scientists’ interest in democratisation into new matters of concern.
Neglected issues and unacknowledged normative assumptions?
The use of a human rights approach to a normative sociology of bio-knowledge is helpful in highlighting how some areas of knowledge production may exclude or disenfranchise particular groups of people. For example, focusing on the distributive justice of innovation can make visible who receives the benefits of new developments and who misses out. We believe there is a need to complement these kinds of analyses by also examining the unacknowledged normative assumptions (Wynne, 2006) or ‘latent premises’ (Russell et al., 2010) behind technological developments and underlying ideas about desirable futures and the ways in which ‘benefits’ shape technological directions and ‘progress’ for everyone.
For example, a STEP nano-bionics forum, though highly policy relevant in informing current policy decisions about the ethical conduct of clinical trials, restricted the contribution of citizens to input from users of nano-bionic devices and their carers about how these devices should be tested. Larger questions about the desirability of developing nano-bionic devices such as ear implants and artificial eyes, including issues of disability and human enhancement, were framed out. Interestingly, some of these issues emerged regardless, suggesting that the framing was open enough to enable unexpected matters of concern to be gathered. Thus we see value in genuine engagement with neglected voices about neglected issues, particularly if opportunities exist to improve policy, but emphasise the need for engagement that deals with the value premises of new science and technology.
One ‘STEP into the Future’ event, a multi-stakeholder forum on ‘Societal Implications of Enabling Technologies’, took a very broad approach to making visible normative assumptions in relation to biosciences and emerging technologies. Participants in mixed groups were asked to consider, very broadly, the societal implications of various areas of technological development. In another exercise, groups were asked to map the decision-making context of emerging technologies. This demonstrated the very different understandings and priorities that come from different perspectives and the ultimate complexity of this context. Care in this case study was practised by those who were engaging the participants by paying attention to neglected perspectives, and by trying to improve a situation where important views about social dimensions of technologies were not being heard.
A fascinating result from evaluation of this forum was that some participants reported a lower awareness of the topic after the forum than before. Based on their other responses, we interpret this to reflect an appreciation that the topic was far more complex than they had first thought. This led to discomfort for some participants, which, like ambivalence, may be a valuable resource in opening up these conversations (Russell, 2013).
New décor in the policy side rooms
An important feature of STEP was the involvement of the field of community engagement, which is strong in Australia, particularly at local government levels. Methods used in the workshops and forums were designed by some of the leading engagement practitioners in the country, who also facilitated these events. This field is informed to some extent by deliberative democracy theory, but is primarily a field of practice, built on the design, practice and evaluation of community engagement interventions across a range of decision-making domains. Practitioners are best known for creating safe spaces where people can bring their intelligence, experience and creativity to a discussion. What this field and these practitioners brought to the STEP side rooms was not new furniture, in the sense of new policy instruments or rubrics, so much as new décor. They created a new atmosphere, with their ice-breakers, post-it notes and world cafes, 9 and even more importantly with their warmth, their appreciation and their commitment to creating a safe space for good conversation. These practitioners brought care and an invitation for participants to care. This was care as practice, as interaction, and as Mol (2008) puts it, ‘calm, persistent but forgiving effort to improve the situation’. It was care that accommodated tensions, created symmetry and allowed for transformation, at least to some extent.
An example is a synthetic biology scoping workshop, which was held in conjunction with a policy forum organised by the innovation department. Participants moved from the theatrette, in which they had sat through the obligatory expert presentations (plus ‘other’ perspectives of an NGO representative and a lawyer), followed by a question and answer session, into a workshop room set up like a café. They worked in groups, moved about the room, wrote on paper tablecloths; they made statements, reflected on them, grouped them, questioned them, and elaborated and voted on them. The atmosphere was very different from the preceding forum, and created space for alternative perspectives (from STS scholars, NGOs, artists, lawyers) to have influence. The workshop resulted in an emergent understanding of synthetic biology development and its contradictions and tensions. The central themes were visions of synthetic biology as open and convergent and as socially responsible and responsive, and a dystopian vision of life as a raw material.
Policy influence?
An independent evaluator who surveyed participants identified lack of policy influence as the major weakness of STEP. This was certainly a reflection of STEP not having made it into the policy room proper. But was this criticism based on realistic ambitions (Hennen, 2012)? Multiple factors, actors and inputs influence policy. The governance of new biosciences and biotechnologies is complex, involving at times new arrangements, new assemblages, of actors, objects, ideas and perspectives. Perhaps STEP can provide opportunities to assemble matters of concern. However, direct policy influence is often a ‘mirage’ (Wynne, 2007; see also Davies et al., 2009; Hennen, 2012), and not in fact the intent of the STEP side rooms. Their influence is more likely to come from presenting new perspectives and lenses to those who will later enter the policy rooms proper, creating opportunities for them to see things a little differently, including their own roles. The STEP community included key stakeholders and experts who provide advice to policy makers and their participation probably (hopefully) led to policy influence that was as significant as any direct impacts of the engagement reports on policy.
For example, the synthetic biology workshop revealed a vision for this field as following a different path from previous biosciences and biotechnologies (especially genetically modified food): open, responsible and responsive. The workshop clarified this vision and highlighted the importance of public engagement. In the end, the picture built up in this STEP workshop integrated a range of matters of concern, both apprehensions and aspirations. This created a question and a vision for scientists about how to move into the future, rather than how to reduce the impact of what they (sometimes unquestioningly) do. To build on this vision, scientists, policy makers and social scientists need to care in at least two ways; by considering those neglected things and people, but also by being committed and responsible for their new knowledge; they need to consider the part they play in constructing this new field.
Perhaps the value and the challenge of opening up the question of how a new field constructs itself are highlighted by the attitudes of those who were not engaged. In the government forum on synthetic biology, a prominent scientist in the area, who had not attended any earlier workshops, explained why he refused to be involved in public engagement exercises in a slide that simply read, ‘postmodernism’. Apparently it goes without saying that postmodernism is a direction to be avoided by any rational scientist. We can only hope that, had the anti-postmodernism scientist attended earlier STEP workshops, shared matters of concerns with others, and heard their matters of concern, his criticism may have been ‘moderated’ (Latour, 2004). Perhaps this scientist’s frustration with postmodernism (which might be a frustration with corrosive critique) could have been assembled with social scientists’ frustrations with scientists’ hubris and unwillingness to think about the social context of their work; this might have created an ongoing joint interest in respecting each other’s work and building socially responsible bio-knowledge.
Discussion: a caring normative sociology of bio-knowledge?
Here, we have examined an attempt at institutionalising a participatory approach to public engagement in Australia, as an example of public sociology/serviceable STS in practice, a version of normative sociology of bio-knowledge. STEP created what we called policy ‘side rooms’, which have different opportunities and constraints to Webster’s (2007) policy room(s) proper. We now unpack further the roles of critique, concern and care in these rooms. Let us remember that, following Haraway and Puig de la Bellacasa, as well as Mol, we are not here looking for a ‘totalising’, universal approach that will work in all circumstances, but we try to pull out what it might mean, in this particular instance, to assemble matters of concern, to avoid corrosive critique and to practise care.
There were a number of tensions in the role of critique in the side rooms, and evidence at some points that critique has indeed ‘run out of steam’ (Latour, 2004). For instance, the calls by a scientist to avoid ‘postmodernism’ suggest that some versions of social science critique have made it into scientists’ discourses; however these critiques are being rejected. The label ‘postmodernism’ is used by this scientist to demean any suggestions by social scientists that science’s ‘matters of fact’ should be re-thought of as full of politics, history and culture.
This is not to say that there was no space for critique. Clearly, the structure and framing of the STEP side rooms was inspired by radical STS/sociological critique and committed to what Papadopoulos (2011) calls ‘participatory politics’. But, as in all participatory politics, some limits are set by the institutional context. Marks’ failure (perhaps) to voice a critique about some scientists’ determined focus on ‘educating’ ignorant publics, illustrates reluctance to become the debunker, the Zeus reigning alone in the desert. Instead, she felt compelled to ‘moderate’ her critique (Latour, 2004), lest she not be invited back into the side room, let alone the policy room proper.
However, the STEP process did enable the ‘assembling’ (Latour, 2004; Puig de la Bellacasa, 2011) of a range of ‘matters of concern’. Russell here can be seen as playing the role of Latour’s new critic, the one who does not debunk what others hold dear, but offers ‘arenas in which to gather’ (2004: 246). In these side rooms then, diverse human and non-human actors were brought together (e.g. people concerned about asbestos-like effects of nanomaterials on workers’ bodies or about overly burdensome and stifling regulation, policy makers, interested publics, representations of synthetic biology, and paper tablecloths on which possible utopian and dystopian futures were articulated); they could then contribute to building new bio-knowledge, new world-making ways of thinking and doing.
We see evidence of doing with care here too. In Mol et al.’s words (2010: 14), Russell and other participants were ‘persistently tinkering in a world full of complex ambivalence and shifting tensions’. These tensions and ambivalences were expressed either directly or through reports and summaries, they were put to diverse people, and they encouraged some to think in different and sometimes uncomfortably new ways. They drew attention to different material realities and concerns. Approaches to public engagement that failed to open up stale controversies were adapted in subsequent iterations, to shift roles in the side rooms so that some transformation was possible. Small steps were taken.
STEP also sought to include ‘neglected’ voices and perspectives, and to tackle some exclusions and power asymmetries. This meant, for instance, that lay members of the public were asked to explore a variety of concerns in spaces where scientists or other experts were not present, thereby avoiding shutting down public discussion and attempts at asking broader ethical questions (cf. Felt et al., 2009). Similarly, social scientists, while by no means powerless, were nonetheless given separate spaces where they could be fed up with the apparent lack of take up by scientists of their critical messages; where they could attempt to articulate these frustrations in a safe space, and get them passed on, anonymously, to the multi-stakeholder workshop. This enabled some movement towards what Puig de la Bellacasa (2011) calls ‘awareness of oppression’, whereby social scientists, union representatives, green NGOs and scientists could speak for others (perhaps including workers, future generations, junior scientists, cells or model organisms) who were not there, and highlight some of the ‘neglected experiences that create oppositional standpoints’ (Puig de la Bellacasa, 2011: 96).
There is an inherent tension in this approach, however. As feminists and others have highlighted, speaking on behalf of others can be fraught (Haraway, 1991; Puig de la Bellacasa, 2012), even seen as ‘usurpation’ (Puig de la Bellacasa, 2012: 209). Indeed, some may not want to participate in this particular STEP side room, they might question its fundamental location under NETS. It is after all a strategy of a government committed to a vision of progress facilitated by ‘enabling technologies’. While it might still be helpful for those invited into the side rooms to express the concerns of others not present – and do so in a caring, respectful way – it might also be important to push for their inclusion. A more radical proposal would include different ways of articulating concerns and raising issues that might not sit as comfortably with Latour’s ‘polite’ approach, or Webster’s serviceable STS, or even Burawoy’s public sociology. While this was never the aim of STEP, there is a need for other spaces too, ones in different buildings, even in fresh air, which can more readily include radical voices and approaches (Papadopoulos, 2011: 188–95; Welsh and Wynne, 2013).
So what of the roles of sociologists and STS scholars? We have talked about the importance of sociological critique in driving the STEP process and in bringing alternative frames and creative tensions that open up issues for discussion, but can sociology and STS scholars also provide the care and the safe space? Is it possible to be both pragmatic and accommodating, and also radical-critical? Can these disparate roles really sit with one actor, or one type of actor? We are unsure. Here, it seemed important for someone (or several people) to remain committed to STEP, to assemble, to continue tinkering, to bring the ‘calm, persistent but forgiving effort to improve the situation’.
The creative tensions surrounding the assembling described above and the discomfort that sometimes accompanies those tensions can be corrosive if they are not balanced with positive and constructive experiences of engagement. If Zeus does not want to be alone, s/he needs to create an oasis in the desert, a safe and fertile place, where travellers from different places will want to gather, where conversation will flourish, where corrosive criticism and scepticism do not dominate. To house these tensions and difficult conversations then, there is value in creating a positive, safe and caring environment in the STEP side rooms.
It was hoped that STEP might become an ongoing initiative, a dynamic framework that could be re-assembled, on which to pin some hopes of opening up more conversations about emerging bio-knowledge. As such, it could perhaps have provided a hub for a range of activities and assemblages; it could have contributed to capacity building among citizens and decision makers; and it could have experimented with a range of methods, including social media, for bringing people together to contribute to decision-making about both research and policy. 10 However, it was not to be. NETS and the STEP program ended in 2013; a side room that could be sacrificed to budget pressures without harming the edifice, following a venerable tradition. 11 So what is left? The STEP framework was published under creative commons, which means that it can be used and modified. More importantly, the notion of a creative commons extends to the STEP community, not just the piece of intellectual property that is the framework document. The framework is something to hang things on, not just processes, principles and platforms, but ideas, hopes, discomforts, aspirations and cares. All those involved in STEP are part of it and take it with them. If they care.
Beyond STEP, there are lessons, for public engagement, for assembling matters of concern, and for a normative sociology of bio-knowledge. One of these is an understanding that there is creative tension between radical and pragmatic roles and approaches. The two modes are not readily separable (Wynne 2007) and can work in concert to improve engagement: however, they can be differently brought to the fore in different places and by different actors. Another insight is that care, and the persistent and patient tinkering that comes with it, can transform both the practice and experience of public engagement, recognising that engagement is a situated and transient process and therefore must always be nurtured. Care can work to assemble people and perspectives, open up normative issues and potentially build reflexivity in us as sociologists as well as in those we bring together. As such, we believe that care has much to bring to a normative sociology of bio-knowledge.
Footnotes
Funding
Dr Marks’ expenses (travel and accommodation) at the STEP meetings and workshops were covered by the Department of Industry, Innovation, Science, Research and Tertiary Education (DIISRTE). Dr Russell was employed by DIISRTE throughout the STEP program.
