Is the push for science to save the still
flailing economy a threat to scientific research?
Today’s
researchers are increasingly asked to view their work as an engine of economic
growth. Commercialization has emerged as dominant theme in both the advocacy of
science and in the grant writing process.
But is this push good for science? What damage might the market’s
invisible hand do to the scientific process?
Of
course, it would be naive to suppose that there was ever a time when the social
forces that drive research have been totally pure. Government research funds
have often been tethered to very specific policy goals. And university researchers have long been
nudged, prodded, and in rare circumstances, conscripted to perform specific
tasks—including facilitating economic growth.
One of my favorite examples is the development of John Harrison’s marine
chronometer watch, a huge technical advance that facilitated the exploration of
our planet, among other things. It was a
direct product of a government funded prize implemented to improve the ability
to navigate at sea, thereby making trade more efficient.
Such
social forces and political agendas have resulted in significant scientific
progress in a wide range of fields.
Indeed, dramatic historical events, war being the most obvious, can
create a kind of “scientific punctuated equilibrium”—a time when social necessity
(perceived or actual) and the commitment of significant public resources
combine to allow both scientific knowledge and technology development to leap
forward at a dramatic pace. Think of the
impact of WWII on the evolution of the radar, aircraft, rocketry, and the
treatment of infection, to name a few.
Despite
these historical examples of goal-oriented research, the current
commercialization pressure still feels exceptional. It has a systemic quality.
It is more than asking researchers to achieve a particular goal, such as making
a watch or landing on the moon. It is an ethos that now seems to permeates
every corner of the research enterprise, from the justifications used to raise
funds for an area of research to the language used in grant writing and the
reporting of results.
Some of
our own research, which investigated the perceptions of Canadians involved in
university technology transfer, uncovered an acknowledgement that
commercialization pressure has hit an unprecedented intensity. As noted by one of our tech transfer
interviewees, “there is a substantial expectation now that [commercialization]
will happen, which is different than 10 years ago.”
There
are many recent examples of how commercialization plays out in top-down policy
approaches to science. The UK government
recently justified a £220 million investment in stem cell research on the
pledge that it will help stimulate an economic recovery. A 2009 policy document
from Texas made the optimistic prediction that stem cell research could produce
230,000 regional jobs and $88 billion in state economic activity. And President Obama’s 2011 State of the Union
address went so far as to challenge American researchers to view this moment in
time as “our generation’s Sputnik moment”—the opportunity to use science and
innovation to drive the economy, create new jobs, and compete with emerging
economies, such as China and India.
The
impact of this commercialization pressure is still unfolding, but there is a
growing body of research that highlights the potential challenges, including
the possibility that this pressure could reduce collaborative behavior, thus
undermining scientific progress, and contribute to the premature application of
technologies, as may already be happening in the spheres of stem cells and
genetic research. For example, might the controversial new Texas stem cell
research regulations, which allow the use of experimental adult stem cell
therapies without federal approval, be, at least in part, a result of the
government’s belief in the economic potential of the field?
Such
pressure may also magnify the growing tendency of research institutions and the
media to hype the potential near future benefits of research—another phenomenon
that might already be occurring in a number of domains and could have the
effect of creating a public expectation that is impossible to satisfy.
Furthermore,
how will this trend conflict with the emerging emphasis on an open approach to
science? A range of national and international policy entities, such as the
Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development, suggest “full and open
access to scientific data should be adopted as the international norm.” Can
policy makers have it both ways? Can we
ask researchers to strive to partner with industry and commercialize their work
and share their data and results freely and as quickly as practical?
While
working closely with industry and asking researchers to consider the future
applications of their work has clear utility, it also creates both social and
scientific challenges. Given the pervasive
nature of the commercialization push, we should, at a minimum, strive to gain a
greater understanding of the tradeoffs at play.
To what degree does the growing push to commercialize research threaten
the traditional scientific standards of objectivity and independence? Can researchers both commercialize and
satisfy the emerging norm of open science?
More good research on such issues seems critical, as is research on the
other side of the ledger. There is, in
fact, little reason to suppose that pushing researchers to commercialize will
lead to the desired outcome of jobs, profits, and economic growth—and plenty of
concern about the potential pitfalls of this approach.
Given
what is at stake, one would hope that the emerging commercialization-infused
science policy would, at least, be informed by, well, science.
Timothy
Caulfield
Timothy Caulfield is a Canada Research Chair in Health
Law and Policy, a professor at the Faculty of Law and School of Public Health,
University of Alberta, and the author of The Cure for Everything: Untangling Twisted
Messages about Health, Fitness and Happiness.
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