Colonialism & Science

Takeshita raises a lot of interesting points about the role of science in maintaining skewed relations of biopower.  In a society that values scientific knowledge as objective and relies on it to advance, being critical of science’s objectivity and history is crucial for inhibiting it from having unchecked power.  Despite the current cultural moment that is growing skeptical of scientific credibility - particularly in regards to food and medicine - the United States has been structured to privilege science.  Part of its power is that science is often framed using rhetoric that is not a part of common vocabulary and knowledge leading to disparities in who is able to understand the implications of modern science and which voices are able to contribute to it.  These are not new concepts; Takeshita talks about the histories of science in creating contraceptive technologies at the expense of marginalized populations.  The narrative of using marginalized bodies to progress scientific knowledge spans time and culture.  

In order for this narrative to be so pervasive there must be underlying logics constructed surrounding which bodies are valuable and in which ways.  As with many other aspects of society, science has historically been to privilege white, wealthy, and European bodies at the expense of poor people and people of color.  Takeshita succinctly echoes this sentiment when she writes, “Colonial science, in short, allowed Europeans to classify, domesticate, own, and intervene in foreign places and lives of their inhabitants” (p. 35).  In this statement, she draws upon many of the intricate tensions of the biopower that organizes bodies as European and Other.  Inserting European scientific ideals and practices to places with less agency over these scientific powers continues as an act of colonialism that upholds white supremacy and eurocentrism.  These ideals shape our perceptions of which bodies matter and which are disposable to maintain these relations.  Takeshita also discusses how Europeans taking their scientific experiments to other places is a gendered display of power for experiments are more often than not enacted on women’s bodies (Takeshita 2012, p. 36).

Considering this context, the role of the IUD specifically is interesting.  As a medical device that is explicitly designed to prevent pregnancy - and therefore generally for bodies of people assigned female at birth - it is already a feminized device.  Reflecting back to the Takeshita’s coverage of the history of it being used against poor women of color is a particular instance of gendered colonialism.  Not only the device itself, but the purpose and usage of it contribute to broader conversations about population control, one of the most explicit ways we discuss which bodies are valuable.  Takeshita has brought up tensions about IUDs being assumed to be able to stop “overpopulation” of certain countries and places while being an innovative device for giving privileged women more “choice” in when they want to have children (Takeshita 2012, p. 33).  Assuming that privileged (i.e. coded as white, economically stable, living in specific nations) women having children at intervals that work for them is positive while marginalized women having children is framed as a burden is an explicit example of racism, colonialism, and unequal power dynamics.

Taking a step back to think about how this has come to be - how we have even reached a scientific moment where we are able to use the same device under different motivations - adds another layer to the conversation.  Takeshita talks about how and why the IUDs increased safety is largely the result of testing it on marginalized bodies (Takeshita 2012, p. 35).  Ethically, this seems like it shouldn’t be able to occur, yet it has time and time again.  This discussion made me think of the recent discovery of the syphilis experiments conducted in Guatemala, lead by the same doctor who was part of the Tuskegee syphilis disaster.  In the late 1940s, US public health officials infected hundreds of Guatemalan people with syphilis in order to observe the disease.  It was mainly prisoners, prostitutes, soldiers, and mental patients who were infected.  These populations are explicitly discriminated against in society.  This example of their bodies being deemed less valuable than their American counterparts and as disposable for the sake of scientific discovery exemplifies the sexist and colonialist implications of scientific discoveries in a comparable vein to that of the IUD.

Marta Orellana, one of the young girls who were vaginally infected with syphilis at age 9 in the Guatemala experiments (Source: http://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2015/apr/02/johns-hopkins-lawsuit-deliberate-std-infections-guatemala).

Of course this conversation is not cut and dry - in many ways, despite the atrocious histories of how scientific knowledge has come to be known, the advancements have been beneficial.  It is undeniable that the IUD is safer now than it was 50 years ago and is a crucial contraceptive resource to women around the world.  However, I cannot accept that the only way to continue scientific research is to rely on subjugating marginalized bodies and populations.  If we do not hold ourselves to a higher ethical standard that incorporates feminist ideals and is conscious of the histories of oppression that past scientific methods have relied upon, we continue acts of colonialism that put certain bodies at risk for the benefit of the more privileged.

Reference:

Takeshita, Chikako.  (2012).  The global biopolitics of the IUD: How science constructs contraceptive users and women’s bodies.  Cambridge:  The MIT Press.