Quoted for truth.

Anil Dash, writing about the (old) media gnashing-of-teeth about “cyberbullying” in the aftermath of the suicide of Rutgers student Tyler Clementi:

It’s important to note that blaming technology for horrendous, violent displays of homophobia or racism or simple meanness lets adults like parents and teachers absolve themselves of the responsibility to raise kids free from these evils. By creating language like “cyberbullying”, they abdicate their own role in the hateful actions, and blame the (presumably mysterious and unknowable) new technologies that their kids use for these awful situations.

What do cancer researchers owe cancer patients?

As promised, today I’m returning to this essay (PDF) by Scott E. Kern about the sorry state of cancer researchers at Johns Hopkins to consider the assumptions he seems to be making about what cancer patients can demand from researchers (or any other members of society), and on what basis.

Let’s review the paragraph of Kern’s essay that dropped his framing of the ethical issue like an anvil:

During the survey period, off-site laypersons offer comments on my observations. “Don’t the people with families have a right to a career in cancer research also?” I choose not to answer. How would I? Do the patients have a duty to provide this “right”, perhaps by entering suspended animation? Should I note that examining other measures of passion, such as breadth of reading and fund of knowledge, may raise the same concern and that “time” is likely only a surrogate measure? Should I note that productive scientists with adorable family lives may have “earned” their positions rather than acquiring them as a “right”? Which of the other professions can adopt a country-club mentality, restricting their activities largely to a 35–40 hour week? Don’t people with families have a right to be police? Lawyers? Astronauts? Entrepreneurs?

There’s a bit of weirdness here that I will note and then set aside, namely formulating the question as one of whether people with families have a right to a career in cancer research, rather than whether cancer researchers have a right to have families (or any other parts of their lives that exist beyond their careers).

Framing it this way, it’s hard not to suspect that Kern is the guy on the search committee who is poised to torpedo the job application of any researcher with the temerity to show any evidence of a life that might need balancing with work — the guy on the search committee who is open about wanting to hire workaholics who have no place else to go but the lab and thus can be expected to yield a higher research output for the same salary. Talented applicants with families (or aspirations to have them), or even hobbies, are a bad risk to a guy like this. And besides, if they need that other stuff too, how serious can they be about research?

If Hopkins has a policy of screening out applicants for research positions on the basis that they have families, or hobbies, or interests that they intend to pursue beyond their work duties, I’m sure that they make this policy clear in their job advertisements. Surely, this would be the sort of information a university would want to share with job seekers.

For our discussion here, let’s start with what I take to be the less odd formulation of the question: Do cancer researchers have a right to a life outside of work?

Kern’s suggestion is that this “right,” when exercised by researchers, is something that cancer patients end up paying for with their lives (unless they go into suspended animation while cancer researchers are spending time with their families or puttering around their gardens).

The big question, then, is what the researcher’s obligations are to the cancer patient — or to society in general.

For that matter, what are society’s obligations to the cancer patient? What are society’s obligations to researchers? And what are the cancer patient’s obligations in all of this?

I’ve written before about the assertion that scientists are morally obligated to practice science (including conducting research). I’ll quote some of the big reasons offered to bolster this assertion from my earlier post:

  • society has paid for the training the scientists have received (through federal funding of research projects, training programs, etc.)
  • society has pressing needs that can best (only?) be addressed if scientific research is conducted
  • those few members of society who have specialized skills that are needed to address particular societal needs have a duty to use those skills to address those needs (i.e., if you can do research and most other people can’t, then to the extent that society as a whole needs the research that you can do, you ought to do it)

Needless to say, finding cures and treatments for cancer would be among those societal needs.

This is the whole Spider Man thing: with great power comes great responsibility, and scientific researchers have great power. If cancer researchers won’t help find cures and treatments for cancer, who else can?

Here, I think we should pause to note that there may well be an ethically relevant difference between offering help and doing everything you possibly can. It’s one thing to donate a hundred bucks to charity and quite another to give all your money and sell all your worldly goods in order to donate the proceeds. It’s a different thing for a healthy person to donate one kidney than to donate both kidneys plus the heart and lungs.

In other words, there is help you can provide, but there seems also to be a level of help that it would be wrong for anyone else to demand of you.*

And once we recognize that such a line exists, I think we have to recognize that the needs of cancer patients do not — and should not — trump every other interest of other individuals or of society as a whole. If a cancer patient cannot lay claim to the heart and lungs of a cancer researcher, then neither can that cancer patient lay claim to every moment of a cancer researcher’s time.

Indeed, in this argument of duties that spring from ability, it seems fair to ask why it is not the responsibility of everyone who might get cancer to train as a cancer researcher and contribute to the search for a cure. Why should tuning out in high school science classes, or deciding to pursue a degree in engineering or business or literature, excuse one from responsibility here? (And imagine how hard it’s going to be to get kids to study for their AP Chemistry or AP Biology classes when word gets out that their success is setting them up for a career where they ought never to take a day off, go to the beach, or cultivate friendships outside the workplace. Nerds can connect the dots.)

Surely anyone willing to argue that cancer researchers owe it to cancer patients to work the kind of hours Kern seems to think would be appropriate ought to be asking what cancer patients — and the precancerous — owe here.

Does Kern think researchers owe all their waking hours to the task because there are so few of them who can do this research? Reports from job seekers over the past several years suggest that there are plenty of other trained scientists who could do this research but have not secured employment as cancer researchers. Some may be employed in other research fields. Others, despite their best efforts, may not have secured research positions at all. What are their obligations here? Ought those employed in other research areas to abandon their current research to work on cancer, departments and funders be damned? Ought those who are not employed in a research field to be conducting their own cancer research anyway, without benefit of institution or facilities, research funding or remuneration?

Why would we feel scientific research skills, in particular, should make the individuals who have them so subject to the needs of others, even to the exclusion of their own needs?

Verily, if scientific researchers and the special skills they have are so very vital to providing for the needs of other members of society — vital enough that people like Kern feel it’s appropriate to harangue them for wanting any time out of the lab — doesn’t society owe it to its members to give researchers every resource they need for the task? Maybe even to create conditions in which everyone with the talent and skills to solve the scientific problems society wants solved can apply those skills and talents — and live a reasonably satisfying life while doing so?

My hunch is that most cancer patients would actually be less likely than Kern to regard cancer researchers as of merely instrumental value. I’m inclined to think that someone fighting a potentially life-threatening disease would be reluctant to deny someone else the opportunity to spend time with loved ones or to savor an experience that makes life worth living. To the extent that cancer researchers do sacrifice some aspects of the rest of their life to make progress on their work, I reckon most cancer patients appreciate these sacrifices. If more is needed for cancer patients, it seems reasonable to place this burden on society as a whole — teeming with potential cancer patients and their relatives and friends — to enable more (and more effective) cancer research to go on without enslaving the people qualified to conduct it, or writing off their interests in their own human flourishing.

Kern might spend some time talking with cancer patients about what they value in their lives — maybe even using this to help him extrapolate some of the things his fellow researchers might value in their lives — rather than just using them to prop up his appeal to pity.

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*Possibly there is also a level of help that it would be wrong for you to provide because it harms you in a fundamental and/or irreparable way.

More is better? Received widsom in the tribe of science.

Because it’s turning out to be that kind of semester, I’m late to the party in responding to this essay (PDF) by Scott E. Kern bemoaning the fact that more cancer researchers at Johns Hopkins aren’t passionate enough to be visible in the lab on a Sunday afternoon. But I’m sure as shooting going to respond.

First, make sure you read the thoughtful responses from Derek Lowe, Rebecca Monatgue, and Chemjobber.

Kern’s piece describes a survey he’s been conducting (apparently over the course of 25 years) in which he seemingly counts the other people in evidence in his cancer center on Saturdays and Sundays, and interviews them with “open-ended, gentle questions, such as ‘Why are YOU here? Nobody else is here!'” He also deigns to talk to the folks found working at the center 9 to 5 on weekdays to record “their insights about early morning, evening and weekend research.” Disappointingly, Kern doesn’t share even preliminary results from his survey. However, he does share plenty of disdain for the trainees and PIs who are not bustling through the center on weekends waiting for their important research to be interrupted by a guy with a clipboard conducting a survey.

Kern diagnoses the absence of all the researchers who might have been doing research as an indication of their lack of passion for scientific research. He tracks the amount of money (in terms of facilities and overhead, salaries and benefits) that is being thrown away in this horrific weekend under-utilization of resources. He suggests that the researchers who have escaped the lab on a weekend are falling down on their moral duty to cure cancer as soon as humanly possible.

Sigh.

The unsupported assumptions in Kern’s piece are numerous (and far from novel). Do we know that having each research scientist devote more hours in the lab increases the rate of scientific returns? Or might there plausibly be a point of diminishing returns, where additional lab-hours produce no appreciable return? Where’s the economic calculation to consider the potential damage to the scientists from putting in 80 hours a week (to their health, their personal relationships, their experience of a life outside of work, maybe even their enthusiasm for science)? After all, lots of resources are invested in educating and training researchers — enough so that one wouldn’t want to break them on the basis of an (unsupported) hypothesis offered in the pages of Cancer Biology & Therapy.

And while Kern is doing economic calculations, he might want to consider the impact on facilities of research activity proceeding full-tilt, 24/7. Without some downtime, equipment and facilities might wear out faster than they would otherwise.

Nowhere here does Kern consider the option of hiring more researchers to work 40 hour weeks, instead of shaming the existing research workforce into spending 60, 80, 100 hours a week in the lab.

They might still end up bringing work home (if they ever get a chance to go home).

Kern might dismiss this suggestion on purely economic grounds — organizations are more likely to want to pay for fewer employees (with benefits) who can work more hours than to pay to have the same number of hours of work done my more employees. He might also dismiss it on the basis that the people who really have the passion needed to do the research to cure cancer will not prioritize anything else in their lives above doing that research and finding that cure.

If that is so, it’s not clear how the problem is solved by browbeating researchers without this passion into working more hours because they owe it to cancer patients. Indeed, Kern might consider, in light of the relative dearth of researchers with such passion (as he defines it), the necessity of making use of the research talents and efforts of people who don’t want to spend 60 hours a week in the lab. Kern’s piece suggests he’d have a preference for keeping such people out of the research ranks, but by his own account there would hardly be enough researchers left in that case to keep research moving forward.

Might not these conditions prompt us to reconsider whether the received wisdom of scientific mentors is always so wise? Wouldn’t this be a reasonable place to reevaluate the strategy for accomplishing the grand scientific goal?

And Kern does not even consider a pertinent competing hypothesis, that people often have important insights into how to move research forward in the moments when they step back and allow their minds to wander. Perhaps less time away from one’s project means fewer of these insights.

The part of Kern’s piece that I find most worrisome is the cudgel he wields near the end:

During the survey period, off-site laypersons offer comments on my observations. “Don’t the people with families have a right to a career in cancer research also?” I choose not to answer. How would I? Do the patients have a duty to provide this “right”, perhaps by entering suspended animation? Should I note that examining other measures of passion, such as breadth of reading and fund of knowledge, may raise the same concern and that “time” is likely only a surrogate measure? Should I note that productive scientists with adorable family lives may have “earned” their positions rather than acquiring them as a “right”? Which of the other professions can adopt a country-club mentality, restricting their activities largely to a 35–40 hour week? Don’t people with families have a right to be police? Lawyers? Astronauts? Entrepreneurs?

How dare researchers go home to their families until they have cured cancer?

Indeed, Kern’s framing here warrants an examination of just what cancer patients can demand from researchers (or any other members of society), and on what basis. But that is a topic so meaty that it will require it’s own post.

Besides which, I have a pile of work I brought home that I have to start plowing through.

Friday Sprog Blogging: Kids Day at SLAC 2010 and monster muscles.

Today, the younger Free-Ride offspring’s account of another workshop from Kids Day @ SLAC 2010.

Dr. Free-Ride: What did you do for the levers part of the day?

Younger offspring: Levers and pulleys? Well, they put us into three groups, after we went to another part — it was in the same building, but we had to walk, so we went to the levers and pulleys. They put us into groups of three.

Dr. Free-Ride: And?

Younger offspring: And I was in the group where first, we got to sit in the chair, put our legs up, wear gloves and safety goggles also, and pull ourselves up.

Dr. Free-Ride: How high?

Younger offspring: Up to the red tape on the rope.

Dr. Free-Ride: Uh huh. How high was that, would you estimate? Was it pretty far up?

Younger offspring: Two or three feet, I think.

Dr. Free-Ride: That’s significant. That’s enough that if you fell from that height you would feel it.

Younger offspring: No, but we were sitting on a chair.

Dr. Free-Ride: I understand.

Younger offspring: And we kept our legs up, so then we let go slowly and let our hands slip down.

Dr. Free-Ride: Mmm hmm.

Younger offspring: It made it feel warm but it didn’t make it have a burn.

Dr. Free-Ride: Uh huh. Friction, baby!

Younger offspring: Don’t say that! I’m not a baby!

Dr. Free-Ride: I didn’t mean it that way. OK, go on. What else did you guys do with the levers and the pulleys?

Younger offspring: Well, for the levers, there was, like, one person standing on one side — a grown-up standing on one side, and it was on the blue tape, which meant “one”. The blue tape was in the middle. So, I was on the other side, and I even walked to the edge and it wouldn’t work, so I was like, “Move it to two.”

Dr. Free-Ride: Hmm.

Younger offspring: The green tape. So, we moved it to two. He stood on the edge and I stood, like, not on the edge. I was like this (trying to push down), and he was like, “Nope.” And I moved back and moved back until I was on the edge, and he was like, “You did it!” Or something like that.

Dr. Free-Ride: OK, so basically you moved further and further back on the lever and then you were able to lift a grown-up.

Younger offspring: I have something it connects with, kind of. In martial arts.

Dr. Free-Ride: Yes?

Younger offspring: When sensei gets a sword —

Dr. Free-Ride: Uh huh?

Younger offspring: A foam sword.

Dr. Free-Ride: Yes.

Younger offspring: He swings it, and he tells us not to go near the end, ’cause the end’s faster and it will hit you if you go near the wall, where he is.

Dr. Free-Ride: Oh, so if you’re going to get hit by it, it’s better to get hit by it closer to the the handle than to the end?

Younger offspring: No! You’re not going to get hit by it. It’s a timing practice.

Dr. Free-Ride: Oh, it’s a timing practice.

Younger offspring: You have to time when you’re going, and he says, if you don’t want to get hit, go near the shoulder.

Dr. Free-Ride: Got it, because it’s moving slower there.

Younger offspring: When he’s like this — he’s swinging his arm, like this — and when he goes right here —

Dr. Free-Ride: When it goes near the shoulder.

Younger offspring: When it goes right here — that’s where you are — when it goes right here, you walk past and around him so you won’t get hit.

Dr. Free-Ride: And get near the shoulder rather then going out near the end.

Younger offspring: No, and also getting close to him. You go like this once you get past the shoulder.

Dr. Free-Ride: So you go right around his back. OK.

Younger offspring: So you have to go close to him.

Dr. Free-Ride: That’s very smart. That’s a good connection to make. So was there anything else awesome in the levers and pulleys part of the Kids Day that you want to tell us about?

Younger offspring: There was also a tug-of-war.

Dr. Free-Ride: Mmm hmm.

Younger offspring: And if you were on the side that was the winning side, it was because there was a pulley.

Dr. Free-Ride: Oh.

Younger offspring: That’s why you could beat a grown-up at a tug-of-war.

Dr. Free-Ride: Awesome.

Younger offspring: And it was called “Monster Muscles!”

Dr. Free-Ride: Were there actual monsters involved, or were you the —

Younger offspring: No!

Dr. Free-Ride: You were the monsters?

Younger offspring: No! We had muscles, like monsters’ muscles. We had big muscles!

Dr. Free-Ride: I see. Or was it just that you were making smart use of the muscles you had?

Younger offspring: No, we had monster muscles. We got to lift ourselves up by our own bootstraps!

Dr. Free-Ride: But was that not just clever mechanical use of the muscles you came with? Or did they really inject monster DNA into you to make your muscles somehow magically stronger?

Younger offspring: Does it matter?

Dr. Free-Ride: I think to Sprog Blog readers it might matter.

Younger offspring: OK, then, Sprog Bloggers. You guys … I am not going to tell you. I don’t know what she just said. OK? Do you hear me? Do you hear me, DrugMonkey? Do you hear me, Isis?

Dr. Free-Ride: OK, bye.

Younger offspring: Bye!

Video dispatch from the mouth of the cave of grading: why do we write the essay before the lecture?

Another week, another stack of essays to collect (and read, and comment upon). This week, though, a student actually asked the question in class that I imagine many ask themselves: why are they writing essays on material before I’ve lectured on it, rather than after?

Because I’m too tired to type, I take on that question in a brief video dispatch.

Friday Sprog Blogging: outside of a rabbit.

Outside of a rabbit, a book is a sprog’s best friend. Inside of a rabbit, it’s too dark to read.*

The elder Free-Ride offspring has been spending the majority of free moments with Snowflake Free-Ride, a New Zealand White rabbit. Today, the elder Free-Ride offspring presented me with a sketch of Snowflake, labeled with her parts:

External Rabbit Anatomy

Do you get the feeling that the elder Free-Ride offspring has observed this rabbit from many angles?

Rabbit detail 1

Coming and going?

Rabbit detail 3

Yeah, me too.

Rabbit detail 2

Dr. Free-Ride: Do you have any interest in drawing the internal anatomy of a rabbit.

Elder offspring: (with a look of disbelief) No.

Dr. Free-Ride: I didn’t mean of Snowflake’s internal anatomy!

Elder offspring: OK.

Dr. Free-Ride: I mean, I think you might find it fascinating. We could probably find some rabbit anatomical diagrams online.

Elder offspring: I just ate a quesadilla twenty minutes ago. Maybe after school.

Rabbit detail 4
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*Clearly, I’m ripping off Groucho Marx here, although he said it with a dog and a man. (And with glasses and a mustache, neither of which I am sporting at the moment.)

Job opening to support STEM students who are low-income, first-generation college students, or have disabilities

From Kim Hannula of All of My Faults are Stress-Related comes news of a position being advertised at her fair college as a director of a STEM student services program. Kim says:

We recently received a grant from the Department of Education, to provide support for science/technology/engineering/math students who are low-income, first-generation, or have disabilities. We have a similar program (the Program for Academic Advancement) for students college-wide, but this new program will support math, science, and engineering students. I’m excited about this program – our PAA program does a fantastic job helping students finish their degrees and move on to graduate school or the workforce, and I’m looking forward to working with the STEM3 program.

Here are the details (which you can also find here in the official job posting):

Director
STEM3 Student Support Services Program
Fort Lewis College
Durango, Colorado

Fort Lewis College invites applications for the Director of its new STEM3 Student Support Services Program (a federally funded TRiO program). The position is funded by a grant from the U.S. Department of Education that requires application for renewal every five years. The Director is responsible for organizing and managing support services for 120 academically and/or economically disadvantaged college students. Services include tutoring and academic, career, financial aid, and graduate school advising for eligible students in the STEM disciplines. STEM disciplines include the Sciences (Agriculture, Anthropology, Biology, Chemistry, Exercise Science, Geology, Geoscience, Physics, and Psychology), Technology (Computer Science Information Systems), Engineering, and Mathematics. The Director will also be responsible for approving expenditures, maintaining budget control and responsibility for the appropriate use of grant funds; facilitating and overseeing development and implementation of effective, objective project evaluation; maintaining data collection and a program database for monitoring and tracking of participant progress and outcomes; working closely with the Dean of the School of Natural and Behavioral Sciences and the FLC STEM faculty to ensure program delivery will meet STEM student needs; overseeing preparation of fiscal and technical reports for the U.S. Dept. of Education and Fort Lewis College; managing and supervising program personnel; providing intrusive academic advising and monitoring, and financial aid advising to a small caseload of participants; attending STEM Department Chair meetings; and serving on relevant college committees.

Minimum qualifications are as follows:

  • Masters Degree in Social Sciences, Education, Educational Administration, Student Personnel Administration, Counseling, or related field and a BS / BA in a STEM discipline (see above)
  • At least four years experience working with disadvantaged students (low-income, first generation, students with disabilities) in higher education
  • At least two years experience designing comprehensive programs that include courses, activities, workshops, tutoring or supplemental instruction, student monitoring, or other services that promote retention of SSS eligible STEM students at the postsecondary level
  • At least two years experience implementing procedures for delivery of services, data collection, program evaluation or similar procedures that enhance program effectiveness and promote student retention in SSS or similar programs at the postsecondary level
  • At least three years of administrative and supervisory experience that includes budget oversight and management.

Preferred qualifications include:

  • Experience as a disadvantaged (first-generation, low-income, or disabled) college student
  • Experience working with a TRiO program or other program with a similar mission
  • Ability to provide ad-hoc tutoring support, especially in mathematics
  • Successful grant writing and grant management experience.

This position is a full-time, 12 month position. Candidates must be willing to work flexible hours including evenings and weekends. Some travel is required to statewide, regional, and/or national meetings. Salary is $42,000 with full range of benefits. The position is anticipated to begin in November 2010. Individuals with experience as a disadvantaged individual or assisting disadvantaged students are encouraged to apply.

APPLICATION PROCESS
Interested and qualified applicants must submit: 1) a letter of interest detailing experience that meets the minimum and preferred qualifications, 2) a current resume, and 3) the names, addresses, email addresses, and telephone numbers of three professional references electronically to:

stem3directorsearch@fortlewis.edu

Deadline: Complete applications must be received no later than 5:00 pm on Monday, October 18, 2010 to receive consideration.

Fort Lewis College does not discriminate on the basis of race, age, color, religion, national origin, gender, disability, sexual orientation, political beliefs, or veteran status. Accordingly, equal opportunity for employment, admission, and education shall be extended to all persons. The College shall promote equal opportunity, equal treatment, and affirmative action efforts to increase the diversity of students, faculty, and staff. People from under-represented groups are encouraged to apply.

If this sounds like your kind of job (and the qualifications sound like you), for heaven’s sake apply!

If this sounds like someone you know (especially if he or she is currently on the market), please forward this information.

Are ethical principles optional?

At White Coat Underground, PalMD ponders what to make of members of the same professional community with divergent views of the ethical principles that ought to guide them:

As I thought a bit more about the doctor who wrote the letter to the editor we discussed yesterday, I wondered how two similarly-trained doctors (he and I) could come to such different conclusions about ethical behavior.

The generally agreed upon set of medical ethics we work with has developed over centuries. Patient confidentiality, for example, was demanded by Hippocrates of Kos. But many of the medical ethics we work with are fairly modern developments that reflect the thinking of our surrounding society. The changing weight of patient dignity and autonomy vs. physician paternalism is such an example.

The very fact that our views (individually and collectively) or what is or is not ethical change over time is important to notice. The folks who believe there are “moral facts” in the world for us to discover might account for this in terms of improvements in our ability to perceive such moral facts (or maybe an improvement in our willingness to look for them). Myself, I’m not sure you need to be committed to the existence of objective moral facts to grant that the project of sharing a world with others may change in important and interesting ways as our societies do. And, I don’t think we can rule out the possibility that in some respects, earlier generations may have been jerks, and that we can do better ethically, or at least try to.

“Justice” makes its official entry into the list of essential ethical principles that need to guide research with human subjects (whether biomedical or not) in the Belmont Report, which was convened to respond to the Tuskegee syphilis experiment. That 30 year long study was notable for how unequally risks of the research and the benefits from the knowledge it produced were distributed, and the public outcry when the study was exposed in the newspapers (while it was still ongoing) made it clear that the behavior of the researchers was ethically abhorrent in the eyes of a significant segment of the American public.

In Belmont, it’s worth noting, justice is one of three guiding principles (the other two being beneficence and respect for persons). The authors of Belmont acknowledge that the tensions that sometimes arise between these three principles can make it difficult to work out the best thing (ethically speaking) to do. However, attention to these three principles can help us rule certain courses of action right out (because they wouldn’t fit with any of the principles, or only kind of fit with one while violating the other two, etc.). It’s not a matter of throwing one of the three principles overboard when the tensions arise, but rather of finding a way to do the best you ca by each of them.

On the matter of someone who might say, “I don’t believe justice is an essential ethical principle, so I’m going to opt out of being guided by it,” here’s my take on things:

Ethics do not begin and end with our personal commitments. Ethics are all about sharing a world with other people whose interests and needs may be quite different from our own. Ethical principles are meant to help up remember that other people’s interests and needs have value, too, and that we can’t just trash them because it’s inconvenient for us to take those interests and needs seriously. In other words, in ethics IT IS NEVER ALL ABOUT YOU.

This is not to say that there aren’t struggles (especially in a pluralistic society) about the extent of our ethical obligations to others. But you can’t opt out without opting out of that society.

And here’s where we get to the researcher or physician (my expertise is in the ethical standards guiding communities of researchers, but PalMD notes that the current position of medical ethics now embraces justice as a guiding principle). He’s free to say, “I’ll have no truck with justice,” if he is prepared as well to opt out of membership in that professional community. Alternatively, he can stay and try to make a persuasive case to his professional community that justice ought not to be one of the community’s shared ethical values; if he changes enough minds, so goes the community. (This could have implications for how willing the broader society is to tolerate this professional community, but that’s a separable issue.*)

But, he cannot claim to be part of the community while simultaneously making a unilateral decision that one of the community’s explicitly stated shared values does not apply to him.

I think Pal nicely captures why physicians (among others) should take the community standards seriously:

Why should physician’s adhere to any code of ethics? Can’t we just each rely on ourselves as individuals to do what’s right?

As doctors we are given extraordinary privileges and responsibilities. Physicians have always recognized that this demands high standards of behavior. The way we act professionally must take into account not just what we each believe, but what our patients and our society believes. Ethics are easy if we all have the same values. Ethics get hard when we don’t share beliefs. And when we don’t share beliefs, we must at the very least remember our core principles, those of helping our patients, and not causing them harm; of granting them autonomy and privacy; of treating them with basic human dignity.

Even physicians have to share a world with the rest of us. Our ethics, whether as members of professional communities or or society at large, are a framework to help us share that world. Maybe you can make a case for opting out of an ethical principle you don’t care for if you are the supreme leader of your world, or have a world of your very own with no world-mates. Otherwise, it behooves you to figure out how to play well with others, even if sometimes that’s hard..
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*While it’s a separable issue, it’s worth noting, as I have before, that the codes of conduct, ethical principles, and such adopted by professional communities exist in part to reassure the broader public that these professional communities mean the public well and don’t plan to prey on them.

Friday Sprog Blogging: the glorious return of the science fair!

At least, the Free-Ride offspring’s elementary school thinks it has money in the budget for a science fair this Spring. Sure, I know that grown-up science is frequently constrained by a rapidly changing funding landscape, but I’m not sure that including this element of scientific activity is what will catch a kid’s imagination.

Anyway, I asked the sprogs to jot down their current thoughts on what they might want to do for the science fair this year. Here’s what they gave me.

The elder Free-Ride offspring (now in sixth grade) hasn’t really latched on to one idea yet. The current list of options reads as follows (with my commentary in square brackets):

  • Which food does Snow like best? [We definitely need to read up on the rules about observational studies of domestic animals in science fairs. As well, this kernel of a project idea requires some careful thinking about controls.]
  • Snails or slugs: which are more efficient? [Efficient at what, wonders Dr. Free-Ride.]
  • Which is more viscous, honey or syrup? [I reckon we’d need a few more substances in the comparison. Plus some exploration of what it is about each substance that makes it more or less viscous.]
  • Trick people’s palates! [Intriguing! But also cryptic. Is this going to be about food chemistry, or tastebuds, or psychology?]
  • How heat affects bunny naps. [Again, we need to get right with the rules on animal observational studies. And we may be running out of really warm days to use as data points.]

The younger Free-Ride offspring (now in fourth grade) has been gravitating toward an idea inspired by a family camping trip at Lassen Volcanic National Park:

Working with sulfur.

Found in Sulfur Works, Bumpass Hell, & Devil’s Kitchen [all sites at Lassen].

What do you have to do to make sulfur smell like rotten eggs?

Can we find sulfur in foods we have in the house (besides eggs)? How could we get the sulfur out?

What happens if we put wet soil and trapped steam (don’t know how) in a bowl, then put sulfur soil (ground sulfur to a powder) on the top layer?

This could be really interesting … but I’m wondering now if our kitchen is going to need a fume hood.

Stay tuned.