Mixing Science and Politics
Boycott of Israeli scientists sparks debate, dissent, and
subtle unexpected effects | By Catherine
Zandonella
Joel Hirsch, an Israeli biochemist at Tel Aviv University,
has one more thing to worry about when he submits a scientific
paper for publication: the possibility that scientists who
disagree with his country's policies will shun his work. "My
nightmare scenario is that the paper gets sent to a reviewer
who might have an axe to grind about Israeli scientists,"
Hirsch says.
In the year since some British researchers called for a
boycott of Israeli scientists, funding agencies have largely
rejected such appeals. A subtler, possibly no less-damaging
kind of boycott has surfaced, in which researchers express
their outrage with the Israeli government by refusing to
interact with Israeli scientists. As a result, when a talk is
canceled, or a faculty member receives no reply from a
European colleague, Israeli scientists can't help but think
the worst. "I can't be sure if it was because I am Israeli,"
says Orly Reiner, a neuroscientist at the Weizmann Institute
of Science in Rehovot, about the cancellation of her invited
talk at a research conference in France.
SENDING THE WRONG MESSAGE? No one knows how many
quiet acts of protest Israeli scientists endure. Nevertheless,
boycotts galvanize scientists into political camps and provide
endless fodder for the debate over scientists' roles in
politics. Boycotters say it is morally wrong to sit on the
sidelines. Opponents say that science should sit above
politics. "Any boycott that impedes the open flow of
information is akin to book burning," says Susan Greenfield,
director of the Royal Institution of Great Britain.
Critics of the boycott, who nevertheless agree with its
goals, say it is unlikely to change Israeli policies, and it
may backfire. "The boycott sends the wrong message because it
breeds resentment," says Idan Segev, the David & Inez
Myers Chair in Computational Neuroscience at Hebrew
University, Jerusalem. "We should be focusing our anger at the
Israeli government." He says academics can be outspoken
critics of the government. "Scientists are the last people you
want to boycott."
This is especially true in the current political climate,
many Israelis say, because of what some describe as an
anti-intellectual bent to the government led by Prime Minister
Ariel Sharon. The Minister of Education, Limor Livnat, has
been locked in a power struggle with academic leaders for more
than a year.1
Emanuel Farjoun is one of ten Israeli scientists who signed
the original petition calling for the boycott. "I think
international pressure should be put on Israel to respect the
rights of Palestinians," says Farjoun, a mathematician at
Hebrew University. Nevertheless, Farjoun believes scientists
should not act individually. "Scientists should collaborate on
an individual level with colleagues all over the world,
regardless of the government under which they live," Farjoun
says.
But those who support the boycott say that such action is
one of few avenues open to scientists who wish to dissent.
Palestinian scientists express particular concern. Mazin
Qumsiyeh, associate professor of genetics at Yale University,
says a boycott against Israeli science may have its downsides,
but the situation requires a radical intervention. "It is like
the patient is dying of cancer and you are saying that we
cannot ask for major radiation or therapy because it might
inconvenience the patient." Qumsiyeh's parents live in the
occupied West Bank.
THE BOYCOTT'S EFFECT Boycott instigators say that
they did not expect a direct effect. "I never assumed the
boycott, as such, would actually change the policies of the
Israeli government," says Steven Rose, director of the Brain
and Behaviour Research Group at The Open University, UK, who
initiated the call for a boycott with his wife Hilary Rose,
then a professor of sociology at City University, London. "We
wanted to make a protest and raise the issue, and in that
sense the effect has been quite dramatic, far more than what
we anticipated."
The Roses' petition, which appeared in the London newspaper
The Guardian, called for the European Union and the
European Science Foundation (ESF) to impose a moratorium on
funding until Israel abides by United Nations resolutions and
opens peace negotiations with the Palestinians. Israeli Prime
Minister Ariel Sharon recently endorsed a road map for peace,
which is supported by the United Nations, European Union,
United States, and Russia.2
The petition sparked a few widely publicized incidents. A
gene therapy researcher who requested a plasmid from a
Norwegian researcher received a reply saying: "Due to the
present situation in the Middle East, I will not deliver any
material to an Israelitic [sic] university." In another
incident, two Israeli reviewers at the Journal of
Translation were asked to resign. Rose is not bothered
that the call for what was essentially an economic boycott has
acquired a more personal nature. "This is an act of
individuals," says Rose, adding that he refuses to review
grant applications from Israelis or to cosponsor meetings with
Israeli academics.
The funding denials and outright sanctions have failed to
materialize. The ESF rejected the suggestion that it stop
funding Israeli scientists, and petitioners did not try to
persuade US science agencies to consider such a move. Members
of Britain's two university teachers' unions, both of which
originally supported the boycott, reconsidered the issue and
voted down boycott resolutions in May.
The issue remains active on France's university campuses.
Several universities have passed resolutions calling for the
European Union to suspend funding of Israeli scientists. Some
of these were later rescinded after prominent scientists
protested. The French Ministry of Science, in a move designed
to show support for Israeli science, signed a new cooperative
agreement with Israel in April.
Even if the threats to the overall pursuit of science do
not materialize, the boycott could chip away at the quality of
science in Israel. Since the beginning of the recent unrest in
Israel two years ago, the number of scientists visiting Israel
has fallen, due mainly to fears for personal safety, says
Andrew Marks, director of the Center for Molecular Cardiology
at Columbia University and founder of an antiboycott group
called International Academic Friends of Israel. Younger
scientists are the most vulnerable because they depend on
getting papers published and meeting influential leaders in
their disciplines. Marks' group is helping organize a stem
cell conference in Israel during the month of June.
Some scientists assert that Israeli academics are not doing
enough to bring about a peaceful solution to their country's
crisis. "South African academics were much more active in
protesting the apartheid government than what I've seen from
my Israeli colleagues," says Rodney Douglas, a South African
and the director of the Institute of Neuroinformatics in
Zurich. "In matters of such importance, one must make a
stand."
The worst danger is not to individual Israeli scientists,
boycott opponents say, but rather to the culture of open
communication among researchers. Scientists like Segev, Marks,
and Greenfield want scientific work to be judged on its
merits, not on the basis of the researcher's citizenship. Any
boycott or other action that puts such confidence in jeopardy
has the potential to do lasting damage, the opponents say, not
just to its intended target, but to the field of science
itself.
Catherine Zandonella (catzan@nasw.org) is a
freelance writer in New York City.
References 1. A. Shavit, "Academia
nuts," Haaretz, 2002.
2. H. Morris, "Israeli
reservations on peace plan unveiled," The Financial
Times, May 27, 2003, p. 1.
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