Cyborg stem cells in public: deconstructing and taking responsibility for categorizations

Abstract

“Cyborg” entities do not easily fit into pre-existing categories and can therefore be useful in deconstructing these categories and showing their contingency and political power. In this paper, some cyborg stem cells are examined. They were discussed in Australian public debates as well as during interviews with scientists. Multiple ways of making sense of them are possible, but one became dominant, was inscribed in Australian parliamentary documents and may now seem to be a simple reflection of nature. By showing other possible categorizations and highlighting the contingency and ambiguity of concepts such as “embryo,” or “fetus,” the established definition of these cells is contested. In particular, the way it can displace conversations about women's bodies and the use in research of material from terminations is highlighted. Alternative stem cell categorizations are put forward; these are not “innocent” either, but may offer fruitful ways of talking about this area of techno-science in public.

Keywords:

• stem cell research
• cyborg
• politics of classification

Introduction: ontological novelties and the politics of categorization

Developments in science and technology present us with “ontological novelties” (Jasanoff 2005b, p. 141), such as genetically modified foods, humanized pig cells or cloned embryos. The precise definitions of these are fought over as different groups in society attempt to make sense of them and gain legitimacy for their own knowledge claims about them. Some categorizations might seem to be objective reflections of nature, but different ones will gain authority and become established in different places, at different times and according to the different actors involved. This highlights that classifications and definitions are contingent and socially constructed.1 In this paper, I argue that Haraway's figure of the cyborg provides us with a useful conceptual lens through which to explore these processes of categorization and legitimization in the field of stem cell research (SCR). I draw upon this figure for two reasons. First, the cyborg, which transgresses boundaries and resists easy categorization, draws attention to the inevitable work involved in humans' construction of classificatory boundaries concerning the natural world. In other words, it sensitizes us to the contingencies of any attempt to categorize “ontological novelties.” Simultaneously, however, the cyborg is a political figure; it acts in the world, thus encouraging us to consider the implications of our classifications of nature.

SCR has created a number of ontological novelties, such as new mixtures of human bodies and laboratory materials. For instance, cell lines are grown under laboratory conditions after having been derived from embryos, themselves created in fertility clinics through the in vitro combination of eggs and sperm. It can difficult to label and categorize these entities (e.g. Franklin 1997, 2006, Waldby and Squier 2003, Hauskeller 2005a, 2005b). In particular, various classifications of stem cell types (e.g. according to their origins, or to their properties in the laboratory) are used by scientists in different contexts (Marks 2010).

Public discussions which led to regulatory and legislative decisions have been key locations for negotiations about these novel stem cell entities in the US, the UK, continental Europe and Australia (e.g. Gottweis 2002, Parry 2003, Harvey 2005, 2008, Jasanoff 2005a, Robins 2005, Prainsack and Gmeiner 2008, Sperling 2008, Lynch 2009). They are particularly important for sociological investigation as they constitute moments when the contingent way in which knowledge claims and categorizations stabilize becomes more visible. During these, the voices of scientists can be especially dominant (e.g. Nelkin 1975, Haraway 1992, Gieryn 1995, 1999, Shapin 1995). This is facilitated by their use of specific technical language that can have an “inherent capacity to veil moral problems and thus suggest neutrality and objectivity” (Hauskeller 2005a, p. 48). Scientists' discourses therefore require particular attention.

The focus here is on an episode of classification that took place during the public discussions that led to the first nation-wide legislation governing embryo research and cloning in Australia: the Prohibition of Human Cloning Act 2002 and the Research Involving Human Embryos Act 2002. Some ontological novelties, a sub-set of stem cells, were shown to cure a disabled rat but resisted easy categorization and became the focus of public controversy. This episode was frequently referred to by scientists in Australia even several years later, indicating its importance to the stem cell story in this country. It was also detailed in the official reports on the Parliamentary Inquiry (Parliament of Australia 2002a, 2002b). A number of competing categorizations were drawn upon to make sense of these cells; one of these, based on a “technical” property of stem cells, eventually became dominant.2 This categorization makes it difficult for those who do not judge stem cells on this technical property to participate in conversations about the value of different stem cell types. It also displaces conversations about women's bodies and the use in research of material from pregnancy terminations (see Pfeffer and Kent 2007). This is important in the context of SCR where there have been limited ways of participating in public discussions and where women, whose bodily material is a key research resource, are rarely heard (e.g. Williams et al. 2003, Dickenson 2006, O'Riordan and Haran 2009).

The analysis draws on transcripts of parliamentary debates, official documents and reports as well as other publicly available material. It also utilizes data from in-depth semi-structured individual or group interviews (40–105 minutes) undertaken in Australia in 2004–2005 with 31 scientists of different levels of seniority and working in different areas of SCR. These interviews were conducted as part of a larger project examining stem cells researchers' discourses about their work and public engagement in the UK and Australia. Direct quotes are used; following Gilbert and Mulkay (1984, pp. 20–21) these are anonymized through the use of pseudonyms. Although some of the proponents will be recognizable by those familiar with SCR in Australia, anonymization is used to protect participants' identity as far as possible. Also, the emphasis of this paper is not on particular individuals, but on general processes of categorization.

In what follows, Haraway's cyborg figure is further discussed. Then, the context of the Australian parliamentary debates about SCR (especially embryonic SCR) during which the episode of classification took place is introduced. The details of the stem cells of interest are explored, highlighting their contingency and cyborg aspects. Instances of classification and struggles for authority which took place during the Parliamentary Inquiry into the legislation on embryo research are explored, and complemented by data from interviews with scientists. The way in which this episode settled is then examined through an analysis of the two official reports on the Parliamentary Inquiry. The concluding discussion reflects on the political implications of these processes. It also puts forward the figure of the cyborg as a key analytical resource to highlight the contingency of taken-for-granted understandings of the world and to give a voice to silenced perspectives.

Cyborg tricksters to challenge essentialist categorizations

Haraway has challenged modernist understandings of the world, according to which objective and morally neutral categories exist and can simply be revealed through scientific research (e.g. 1992, pp. 296–298). Rather categories are historically, socially, and culturally contingent (Penley et al. 1990, p. 8, Haraway 1991). Haraway has also challenged postmodern or radical relativist views of the world, according to which all categories are solely social and cultural, existing only in discourse. Although categories are “discursive constructions,” these are shaped by the materiality of the entities being classified and are effected through interactions between different “material-semiotic actors” (1992, p. 298) – these actors include entities being classified, as well as those doing the classifying (Prins 1995, pp. 354–355). So according to Haraway, knowledge and categorizations are neither disembodied fantasies, nor neutral and unproblematic “representations” of nature; they materialize within particular systems of power (Haraway 1992, p. 298, Roberts 2007, p. 19).

In thinking about ways to challenge modernist understandings of the world, Haraway suggests reconceptualizing it as a “coding trickster with whom we must learn to converse” (Haraway 1988, p. 596). Like material-semiotic actors, the notion of the coding trickster simultaneously emphasizes the contingency of our inevitably “partial perspectives” (Haraway 1988) on the world – it will always elude our attempts at classifying it – and encourages us to consider its lively, material actions. This is vital in creating a sense of responsibility for the material-semiotic actors with whom we are engaged in conversation.

In other words, central to Haraway's account of knowledge production is a sense that the contingent categorizations we create to make sense of the world can have important material and political implications (Haraway 1991, 1992). Of particular relevance to this paper is the way in which the implications of scientific categorizations tend to materialize in specific sites, often women's bodies. For instance, scientific attempts to categorize pregnant bodies make use of visualization techniques which represent the fetus as separate from the body in which it exists – that of the pregnant woman; the latter either “disappears” or “re-enters the drama as an agonist” (Haraway 1992, p. 312).

Haraway's insights regarding the contingent yet always political basis of categorizations are usefully brought together with her figure of the “cyborg.” In “A cyborg manifesto” (1991), Haraway urges us to imagine a post-gender alternative present in which “we are all cyborgs,” that is “a hybrid of machine and organism, a creature of social reality as well as a creature of fiction” (p. 149). The cyborg, because it does not easily fit into existing categories, enables us to challenge these; it highlights “the arbitrariness and constructed nature of what is considered the norm(al)” (Prins 1995, p. 360).

In addition to revealing the work involved in the construction of boundaries, the cyborg is explicitly political. It is not “innocent” (Haraway 1991, p. 180): it is not meant to reveal a unique truth but offers a contingent vision of the world (1991, pp. 176–177, see also Prins 1995, p. 356). The cyborg figure is not simply about deconstruction; Haraway makes an “argument for pleasure in the confusion of boundaries and for responsibility in their construction” (Haraway 1991, p. 150, original emphasis). Thus we are also encouraged to imagine new ways of seeing the world and to build new categories. Like the ones that already exist, these categories will have implications and be effected within particular social contexts; but hopefully, they will challenge some of the problematic aspects of other categories (Haraway 1991, p. 154, Roberts 2007, p. 18).

The power of the cyborg to deconstruct categories and render them open to change has been questioned. For instance, although fetuses can be shown to be cyborgs (e.g. Casper 1995), their power to problematize dominant frameworks and social orderings has been challenged because cyborg-fetuses can become normalized and no longer seem monstrous. Their ultrasound images are re-deployed strategically by the media and anti-abortion groups and enable the fetus to seem more “‘naturally’ human” (Latimer 2011, p. 323) than it otherwise would. This is partly because the fetus seems revealed as a free-floating individual through supposedly objective imaging technology (see Petchesky 1987).

However, Haraway argues that being able to present an image or knowledge claim as revealed directly from nature through objective technology, rather than as a political statement, is itself a strategic achievement, and “the power to define what counts as technical or as political is very much at the heart of technoscience” (1997, p. 89). Thus the cyborg figure is useful precisely because it draws attention to the inevitably contingent and potentially strategic process of categorization and normalization. For instance, by highlighting that the fetus deployed by anti-abortion groups is a cyborg, we can more easily see that it is inextricably linked, via an ultrasound machine, to a pregnant woman's uterus. To obscure these links like the anti-abortion movements do is a strategic move, which can be revealed as such and questioned.

In addition, as van der Ploeg argues, Haraway reminds us that “one cyborg may be more hurting than another” (van der Ploeg 2004, p. 154). Similar to Haraway, she argues that categories created by new technologies of the body, such as in utero surgeries and in vitro fertilization, as well as the professional discourses about them, can make women's bodies disappear (1995, 2001, 2004). For instance, by classifying “the fetus” as a patient, markers of success for fetal surgery become lack of scarring on the fetus – the mother's scars and the involvement of her body in surgery are not mentioned in medical texts. Similarly, when “the couple” is classified as a patient, it becomes acceptable to treat sperm defects with interventions on the woman's body, the latter again rarely mentioned in medical texts. Importantly, the fetus and the couple as patients are both cyborgs that matter because they cause women's bodies to be reconfigured as “‘prosthetic devices’ instrumental in the medical care for other bodies” (van der Ploeg 2001, p. 125). Since the fetus and couple are shown to be cyborgs, alternative contingent categorization schemes through which to make sense of them can be put forward: ones that emphasize women's individuality, autonomy, and bodily boundaries; ones that are potentially less hurting.

Haraway's cyborg is thus a useful analytical tool through which to examine the contingencies of particular taken-for-granted categorizations, allowing their implications to be drawn out and addressed.

The context of the case

A rat in Parliament

Table 1 summarizes the evolution of SCR legislation in Australia. A particular moment in the Australian public debate stands out: an episode of classification and struggle for authority. It took place in 2002, during the public discussions about and Parliamentary Inquiry into the Research Involving Embryos and Prohibition of Human Cloning Bill (henceforth: the Bill) which led to the Research Involving Human Embryos Act 2002 and the Prohibition of Human Cloning Act 2002. The Bill was concerned in particular with the use in research of “excess ART embryos,” that is embryos created in the context of assisted reproductive technology (ART), through in vitro fertilization (IVF), and not subsequently implanted into a woman. One key proposed use was to create cell lines from these embryos for therapy. The Acts legalized research on ART embryos but banned the creation of embryos specifically for research. Parliament was a key setting in which issues surrounding embryo research were examined and resolved (Robins 2005). To help elected officials decide on these complex issues, a number of professionals from fields such as SCR, immunology, ethics, and philosophy shared their expertise. Among them was Professor Oliver, an eminent SCR scientist. In arguing for the legalization of embryonic SCR (ESCR), he presented to Coalition Liberal and National ministers (the conservative end of the Australian political spectrum) an experiment undertaken in the USA in which disabled rats were “cured” – had their motility restored – after the injection of neural stem cells. Elements of this presentation were repeated in a parliamentary briefing.

Table 1. Timeline of nation-wide embryo research and cloning legislation in Australia.

Date	Act/Review	Key outcomes/recommendations
Pre-2002	No nation-wide legislation on embryo research or cloning	• Patchwork of state regulations and legislation
2002	Research Involving Human Embryos Act	• Research on embryos under 14 days old is allowed under license from the NHMRC (National Health and Medical Research Council)
		• Creation of embryos through IVF specifically for research not allowed
	Prohibition of Human Cloning Act	• Creation of cloned embryos for implantation into a woman (reproductive cloning) not allowed
		• Creation of cloned embryos to generate cell lines (therapeutic cloning) not allowed
2005	Review of the legislation, Lockhart Review (Legislation Review Committee 2005)	• Recommend lifting the ban on therapeutic cloning
2006	Prohibition of Human Cloning for Reproduction and the Regulation of Human Embryo Research Amendment Act	• Ban on therapeutic cloning lifted • Ban on reproductive cloning maintained
2010–2011	Review of the legislation, Heerey Review (Legislation Review Committee 2011)	• Recommend maintaining legislation as is, including specifically a ban on reproductive cloning and on human–animal hybrid embryos
		• Recommend clarifying who should give consent for the use of fetal tissue
		• Recommend explicitly legalizing the creation and use in research of an embryo using sperm and eggs created in vitro (in vitro derived gametes, e.g. gametes from fetal material)
		• Tabled in Parliament, not acted upon at time of print

The use of this experiment was criticized for a number of reasons, including controversy over the publication status of the research and over potential conflicts of interest. It was discussed in the media (e.g. ABC News Online 2002), in Parliament, as well as in the two reports on the Parliamentary Inquiry into the legislation (Parliament of Australia 2002a, 2002b). It also came up, often without prompting, during many of the interviews undertaken by the author with stem cell researchers three years later. An important aspect to focus on here is the nomenclature used to describe the origin of these motility-restoring stem cells: although there was an agreement among different actors that neural stem cells were injected, the kind of cells these were derived from seems unclear. Oliver called them “embryonic stem cells,” some critics called them “germ cells from a fetus” and the team in the USA called them “primordial germ cells.” A way of classifying these stem cells similar to Oliver's was eventually utilized to guide the legislation and is particular to Australia, as is the focus in official reports and Hansard on the difference or otherwise between embryonic stem cells (ES cells) and germ cells.

Three names for one stem cell type

Professor Oliver talked about the above motility-restoring cells as: “human ES cells directed into neural stem cells and motor neurone cells” (cited in Parliament of Australia 2002a, section 2.20). He used this as evidence for the need to pursue ESCR.

Although there was no specific definition of “stem cell” in the Bill, ES cells are usually defined as deriving from very early stage embryos (a few days post-fertilization) labeled “blastocysts.” A cluster of cells (inner cell mass) can be removed from these blastocysts and transformed into a self-renewing cell line in the laboratory. The International Society for Stem Cell Research (ISSCR n.d.) for instance draws on this kind of definition: “embryonic stem cells are cells derived from the inner cell mass of developing blastocysts.”

By contrast, the stem cells used in the experiment that Oliver described are not from blastocysts. According to the team who conducted the experiment, they used a “human pluripotent embryonic germ (EG) culture” which was “generated from primordial germ cells as described” (Kerr et al. 2003, p. 5132); that is from:

Gonadal ridges3 and mesenteries of 5- to 9-week postfertilization human embryos (obtained as a result of therapeutic termination of pregnancy by using a protocol approved by the Joint Committee on Clinical Investigation of the Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine) … (Shamblott et al. 1998, p. 13726)

So the cells in the experiment Oliver presented to politicians, and which he labeled “ES cells,” were derived from the primordial sex organ of an entity that is several weeks old. This differs from the common definition of ES cells given above, where only cells derived from a blastocyst which is a few days old are labeled ES cells. In addition the entity from which the stem cells for the rat experiment were derived was obtained in the context of pregnancy terminations, not IVF. Some critics of Professor Oliver utilized a different label, describing these cells as derived from “differentiated germ cells4 from the early sex gland of a two month old aborted human fetus” (Do No Harm 2002, emphasis added).

Thus there are three different labels for the origin of the neural stem cells in the rat experiment: “embryonic stem cells”; “embryonic germ culture” derived from “primordial germ cells” themselves from “5- to 9-week postfertilization human embryos”; and “differentiated germ cells” from “a two month old aborted human fetus.” Two key foci of the public debate around this issue of nomenclature were whether these cells should be called embryonic or fetal, and whether Oliver was attempting to mislead politicians on this matter. In the remainder of this paper, it will be shown that these cells are not easy to classify and that different categorizations emphasize different aspects of these cells.

Embryo or fetus? A cyborg entity

The stem cells from the rat experiment are cyborgs for a number of reasons. Since they cannot easily be categorized, they are useful in challenging the seemingly obvious definitions and categories presented during public debates.

First, these cells are cyborgs because they are not quite human, not quite animal, not quite natural, not quite artificial. They come from an entity created through the union of egg and sperm in a woman's body – so in vivo or natural fertilization in contrast to IVF. This entity is then removed from the woman's womb through medical or surgical processes. It is transferred from a clinical to a research setting where it is transformed and laboratory artifacts – cells lines – are created. This is done by removing the primordial gonads and cultivating them in a dish, where they become partly animal because they are grown on mouse feeder-cells. These transformations parallel some of those discussed by Franklin (2006) regarding IVF embryo-derived stem cells.

Secondly, the cells are cyborgs since they come from an entity that is, in temporal terms, not quite an embryo and not quite a fetus, thus calling into question attempts to naturalize these as two distinct categories. The five- to nine-week post-fertilization period of human development (from which the cells for the rat experiment were taken) is interesting. The traditionally accepted cut-off point between what scientists call a fetus and an embryo, and the one used in the Bill, is usually eight weeks post-fertilization, right within this five- to nine-week period.5 It is therefore unclear whether these cells should be called fetal or embryonic. This is further complicated by the fluidity of this time limit. Indeed, some sources talk about a fetus after 10 weeks6 and others use either embryo or fetus to denote the whole period of gestation.7 According to yet other sources, the important difference between embryo and fetus is marked not by a particular time point, but by the formation of structures and organs.8 This variation suggests that these boundaries are dependent on the context in which categorizations are taking place.

In addition to temporal classification, different cultural meanings can be ascribed to these already-fluid categories. For example, professionals in clinical prenatal work conceptualize the fetus as “person,” “patient,” “baby,” “commodity,” or “nobody” (Williams et al. 2001). In more explicitly political contexts such as congressional or parliamentary debates, such contested conceptualizations of embryos and fetuses regularly become a definitional battleground, central to the success or failure of particular projects. For instance, the creation of a sub-category “pre-embryo” was essential in the case for embryo research in the UK in the 1990s (Mulkay 1994, 1997). Similarly, the creation of the “spare embryo” was important to secure a future for ESCR (Svendsen and Koch 2008). In the US, opponents of ESCR extended the definition of embryo to include ES cells (Lynch 2009, pp. 314–315) as well as the politically powerful visual image of the human-like “public fetus” from abortion debates (pp. 310–311). These contingently categorized entities can all be considered cyborgs: they are mixtures of natural and artificial. If they become naturalized, they can do important political work by rendering different types of research either acceptable or transgressive (cf. Jasanoff 2005b). They are cyborgs that matter.

Here we have an experiment where apparently therapeutic neural cells were derived from a cell line, itself derived from cells which could be labeled primordial germ cells, fetal cells or embryonic stem cells. The embryo/fetus in its social/cultural/technical/political context was shown to be much more ambiguous than the one reproduced in public discourse or medical textbooks, for instance the one seemingly easily categorized according to Carnegie stages of embryonic development (Waldby and Squier 2003, pp. 36–37). It is important then to study the emotionally and politically charged fetus, and its separation, or otherwise, from the embryo.

Labeling a cyborg entity

Merging embryonic stem cells and germ cells

Parry has argued that by rhetorically and visually focusing on certain aspects of embryos from which cell lines derive – emphasizing their small size, their physical resemblance with other cells in the body, their “absence of identifiable human features or structures, such as limbs” (2009, p. 97), and by naming them “blastocysts” – scientists in the UK could separate these embryos from their human lineage, thus removing contentious issues from discussion. Such issues include the circumstances under which embryos are procured, the potential health or psychological risks to donors or the potential commodification of human life (e.g. Sexton 1999, Nelkin and Andrews 1998, Parry 2006, Ferber 2007). This focus on small size and cell-like appearance was also prominent in the UK media (e.g. Williams et al. 2003) and in Australian parliamentary and public discussions. For example the similarity in size of a blastocyst to a “pinhead” was raised in the House of Representatives (2002a, 2002b) and by the Australian Stem Cell Centre (2010, p. 2). Thus, like the human-like “public fetus” used by opponents of abortions and embryo research in the US (Lynch 2009, see also Petchesky 1987), what can be called the cell-like “public blastocyst” is an important political tool used by proponents of embryo research.

In the context where supporters of ESCR are keen to highlight the cell-like properties of ES cells, Oliver's use of an experiment with cells derived from primordial germ cells (to employ the US research team's label) to argue for the legalization of ESCR is particularly noteworthy. The primordial gonadal ridge from which primordial germ cells and then “embryonic germ cells”' are derived is a primordial organ. The formation of organs has thus begun in the entity from which these cells are derived, and in this sense, this entity is becoming more human-like, moving towards having discernible physical human features. According to some of the definitions given above, the apparition of these primordial organs marks the transition from embryo to fetus. Given the political power of the “public fetus,” it becomes even more interesting that Oliver would choose to discuss such an experiment, at the risk of undoing an important boundary separating ES cells from full humans.

When asked whether his previous experiences of public speaking had helped prepare him for the parliamentary debates, Oliver replied during our interview as follows:

Professor Oliver: I was always of the view that you should be direct and as simple as possible, the problem is you actually get very small grabs or very small bites for transmitting your information, […] so you can't be too complicated […]. There were certainly claims, because I'd taken a much shorter bite at some of these things, that the information that was transmitted wasn't accurate enough for some people.

He is referring to the rat episode. He argues that in order to get a message across, in a limited time, one has to be succinct, but also accurate. He is indicating, as he did in Parliament (data not shown), that it is appropriate to use “ES cells” as a short-hand for germ cells, in order to make his message clear.

In Parliament Oliver also highlighted that many organizations and documents include primordial germ cell-derived cells in their definition of embryonic stem cells. One of these documents is the Andrews Report (House of Representatives 2001), commissioned by the Minister for Health in 1999, which was frequently referred to in Parliament. Although its executive summary defines embryonic stem cells as derived from a “6–7 day old embryo (blastocyst)” (p. xxiii) and the body of the document uses a different label for “embryonic stem cells” and “embryonic germ cells,” embryonic germ cells are listed under the embryonic stem cell heading (p. 21) and the glossary in Appendix E defines an embryonic stem cell line as “cultured cells obtained by isolation of inner cell mass cells from blastocysts or by isolation of primordial germ cells from a fetus” (p. 271, emphasis added). This again highlights the many and sometimes confusing definitions used in SCR as IVF- and abortion-derived material are merged and separated. Importantly, the focus on germ cells in the context of discussions about SCR is uncommon in documents from other countries.

For Oliver, it is acceptable to conflate blastocyst-derived and germ cell-derived stem cell lines because he classifies cells according to their “differentiation potential,” that is their ability to give rise to different cell types.9 As he argued in Parliament: “Embryonic stem cells from embryos are functionally indistinguishable from embryonic germ cells and will do everything that embryonic germ cells can do in terms of differentiation and tissue colonisation” (Senate Community Affairs Legislation Committee 2002b, CA191, emphasis added). If cells have a similar differentiation potential it is appropriate, according to Oliver, to use an experiment done with one to highlight the usefulness of the other. So by starting with the assumption that these embryo-derived cells and those derived from germ cells have similar differential potentials, it is appropriate to argue that, if the latter can cure motility-impaired rats by transforming into neural cells, then so can the former. By using experiments done with germ cell derivatives and labeling them ES cells, Oliver can extend the narrow meaning of ES cells (which only considers blastocyst-derived cells) to include these motility-restoring cells. He “expands” (Gieryn 1983, pp. 783–787, 1995, pp. 429–432) the authority of ES cells by discursively including in their definition the rat cells and their therapeutic success.

However it could be argued that deriving cells from a blastocyst which is a few days old raises different issues from those that arise when cells are derived from an abortus that already has started developing primordial organs. This argument relies on another way of classifying stem cells: not according to their differentiation potential, but according to their origin – either from blastocysts created for IVF or from germ cells from an abortus. This difference was already enshrined in Australian clinical practice: the regulation of embryos from IVF was overseen by the now rescinded Ethical guidelines on assisted reproductive technology (NHMRC 1996) and that of tissue from abortions by the National statement on ethical conduct in research involving humans (NHMRC 1999). Therefore, there is an obvious alternative way of classifying these cells which would highlight the differences in their biological, political, and regulatory properties, but would de-emphasize the similarities in their differentiation potential.

Separating embryonic stem cells and germ cells

A number of strategies were used in Parliament to counter Oliver's claims. First, some scientists contested the validity of Oliver's merger of ES cells and germ cells on “scientific” grounds. For example, a medical doctor and bioethicist opposed to destructive research on embryos argued as follows:

Dr Bassar: Listening to [Oliver's] explanation of the differentiation between germ cells and embryonic stem cells reminded me – and I am not trying to be cynical – of what medieval theologians are often accused of: questioning how many angels can dance on a pinhead. There is a fundamental difference between a differentiated germ cell […] and an embryonic stem cell, and I feel his explanation is wanting scientifically. (Senate Community Affairs Legislation Committee 2002b, CA245, emphasis added)

Similarly, Dr Haley, a doctor and scientist opposed to ESCR asked: “where is the real evidence” to support the embryo Bill (Senate Community Affairs Legislation Committee 2002a, CA74)? He was suggesting that the rat experiment did not provide this evidence. In addition, in the semi-private context of interviews, some respondents critiqued the basis of Oliver's argument, arguing for instance that the cells used were “several steps downstream from embryonic stem cells.” These scientists are challenging Oliver's classification scheme: for them, it is not proper to assimilate ES cells and the cells from the rat experiment as they have different properties. These people are erecting a discursive boundary between what Oliver is doing and legitimate science in an attempt to reduce his credibility in the eyes of the politicians; they aim to “expel” (Gieryn 1995, pp. 432–434) Oliver and his practices from the definition of good science (see also Parry 2009, Marks 2010).

The second strategy to counter Oliver's claims is to argue that the cells in the rat experiment and ES cells are not legally the same. In the USA, at the time of these discussions, the use of federal funds for research that destroys embryos was prohibited. This specifically included cell line derivation from blastocysts but not the use of material from abortions. Therefore the use of federal funds for the rat experiment conducted by the team in the US would have been legal, but would have been prohibited had it been on IVF blastocysts. As Haley argued in Parliament, referring to Oliver's way of assimilating ES cells and germ cells:

Dr Haley: […] In doing so, by saying they were embryonic stem cell lines, it put into great difficulty the fellows who actually did the research, because in the US, if that were a human embryonic stem cell line, they risked going to jail and [their university] risked its funding. (Senate Community Affairs Legislation Committee 2002a, CA74)

This shows an obvious alternative way in which stem cell entities are classified and which has important material implications, such as jail, for those who fail to accept it. Thus drawing on this legal classification scheme, it is inappropriate to assimilate germ cells and ES cells. Given that the Bill specifically considers IVF blastocysts and not tissue from abortions, Haley can present Oliver's classification as irrelevant and disingenuous.

Thirdly, some people challenged Oliver's classification scheme by highlighting the visual differences between an entity that is a few days post-fertilization (the blastocyst) and one which is several weeks post-fertilization (the one used in the rat experiment). A representative of a pro-life organization, and strong critic of Oliver, stated in Parliament as follows:

Dr Meinhopf: Look to the extraordinary omission of vital information in Dr [sic] [Oliver]'s presentation to the party room. […] In his mind, he saw a two-month foetus [sic] with a beating heart, budding limbs and with sex organs. It would have taken him two seconds to say, “Ladies and gentlemen, I am talking about cells from a two-month foetus with a beating heart and limbs, but it does have similar properties to the embryo cells that you are thinking of; in your mind you are thinking of a little bundle of cells.” He did not take that chance. (Senate Community Affairs Legislation Committee 2002b, CA249–250, emphasis added).

Here, the humanity of the research entity is highlighted, by focusing on aspects such as the “beating heart.” This focus is similar to that adopted by ESCR opponents in the UK Parliament (Parry 2003) and US Congress (Lynch 2009). It plays on the emotional aspects of this research and draws on the power of the “public fetus” (Petchesky 1987, Lynch 2009).

A fourth criticism leveled at Oliver's classification scheme was that it was inconsistent. Oliver had stated in an Australian broadsheet that he was uncomfortable dissecting fetuses. In the wake of the rat story, he was quizzed about this in Parliament, where he explained his position:

Professor Oliver: I had some discomfort with the matter of dissecting the embryonic form between five to eight weeks. I was not as comfortable with that as working with the human embryo, which is a ball of cells – about 125, 130, 150 cells. I was expressing my personal view about, I suppose, my own ethical issues with respect to what I was prepared to do. (Senate Community Affairs Legislation Committee 2002b, CA199)

Oliver is highlighting the lack of human-like features of blastocysts and is showing that he too draws on ethical criteria when deciding what work to conduct. Like other SCR scientists he conducts “ethical boundary-work” (Wainwright et al. 2006). Unfortunately for him, this particular ethical distinction seems strategic when it is put in the context of the lack of distinction in his description of the rat story. In Oliver's defense, different classification schemes can be relevant in different contexts. So when deciding which research he is personally comfortable doing, it may be appropriate to classify cells according to the emotions generated by their dissection. By contrast when thinking about what areas the field of SCR as a whole should focus on, it may be more appropriate to classify cells according to their differentiation potential. However, by not acknowledging this change, and presenting his rat classification scheme as given by nature rather than contingent, Oliver risks being construed as deceitful.

Oliver's apparent inconsistency became the focus of a number of senators who were particularly vociferous in their opposition to ESCR in general and to Oliver in particular. For example, one senator accused him of being deliberately misleading and circular in his arguments when not differentiating between traditional ES cells, and the particular cells used in the rat experiment:

Senator Harrison: You have indicated that you have a gut reaction to dissecting an embryo or a foetus [sic] to get the germ cells. […] That is the ethical distinction that I sought to understand, and I was denied that opportunity by your response, because you refused to acknowledge that the distinction even existed. (Senate Community Affairs Legislation Committee 2002b, CA207–208)

This senator is arguing that by labeling these cells “embryonic stem cells,” Oliver prevented a discussion of the ethical aspects of using cells from terminations. She is attempting to reframe the debate away from what can be labeled technical issues and towards ethical ones.

Settling the matter: successful classifications

Despite publications and parliamentary expert witnesses and senators arguing that adult stem cells could do the job and ESCR was not needed, this latter area of research was legalized in Australia. There are many reasons for this including scientists threatening to leave the country and a national desire for Australia to remain internationally competitive in reproductive technologies and scientific research (e.g. Robins 2005). Oliver's rat story also played a part. Although his classification scheme was highly contested, a similar focus on differentiation potential ended up shaping the final reports on the legislation and thus the outcome of the subsequent parliamentary conscience votes. A detailed analysis of all the ways in which different arguments were accepted or rejected before the final version of the legislation on embryo research in Australia was finalized is beyond the remit of this paper (and requires access to data from behind-the-scenes negotiations). However, some elements of the official report on the parliamentary debates (Parliament of Australia 2002a) and of the supplementary report (Parliament of Australia 2002b) put together by senators in favor of ESCR indicate how particular arguments were made to come to the fore, while others were marginalized.

In particular, the argument style used in these reports mirrors what Goven found with regard to the regulation of genetically modified organisms in New Zealand (Goven 2006, see also Rogers-Hayden 2003, Satterfield and Roberts 2008). There the report by the Royal Commission on Genetic Modifications argued that it was important to gather views from all quarters, including environmental groups and Maori people. However, after these contributions were labeled as “value-based,” they were dismissed for not representing the views of the whole community. Then, highlighting the importance of living in a democratic and pluralistic society, and of not following the views of minority groups, the report argued in favor of introducing genetic modification into New Zealand. Importantly, Goven highlights that the “modernistic” and “neo-liberal” worldview which permeates the report was never identified as a worldview, and could therefore be left to frame, unacknowledged, the report's findings and recommendations. This is analogous to what happened during debates on SCR in both the UK and Australia where proponents of embryonic SCR presented themselves as the voices of rationality, in opposition to “emotional” (Newell 2006, p. 280) or “irrational” others (Parry 2003, p. 185), such as religious leaders, lay publics, or persons identifying with having a disability. The views of the latter could then be dismissed, even though, as Haraway reminds us, these labels are themselves strategic achievements.

Similarly, in the supplementary report, under the heading “Ethical Issues,” the moral status of the embryo is briefly discussed. Then a quote from an Anglican Church representative is cited to argue that views on the status of the embryo are not universal:

The moral status of an embryo is not a fact but a value. We will each decide that which is valuable to us on the basis of our world-views. But we live in a multicultural democracy and world-views abound. (Parliament of Australia 2002b, section 3.5)

The report then argues that non-universal “views” cannot dictate policy: “While we respect the wide range of sincerely held views, there is clearly no prospect of consensus or the acceptability of an absolute position in a pluralistic society” (section 3.6). The document then turns to the “evidence” regarding SCR and the (scientific) value of embryonic stem cells in the section “Stem Cell Science” and argues that embryonic stem cell research should be legalized, even though the status of the embryo is contentious. The contingency of scientists' and others' understandings of ES cells (for instance whether differentiation potential or the source of the cells is their most important characteristic) is not examined in this section of the report.

In the report explaining the legislation, as in the supplementary report, there is a section on germ cells in which the rat experiment is discussed. Although it starts by stating that embryonic germ cells and embryonic stem cells are not “identical in their properties and characteristics” (Parliament of Australia 2002a, section 2.18) and then summarizes some of the different views on this, by the end of the section, Oliver's view is put forward as vindicated and based in scientific fact. The section concludes by arguing that Oliver “did however receive international support for his view” (section 2.26) from other scientists and the next paragraph clearly states that a classification scheme which draws on the differentiation potential of cells became accepted:

For the purposes of this inquiry, the properties of cells that are of interest are those related to their capacity to “differentiate” or “specialise” into particular kinds of tissue. (Parliament of Australia 2002a, section 2.27).

So the property that matters is cells' differentiation potential, not their source, and germ cells and ES cells can be merged together: “The only known sources of human pluripotent cells are embryonic stem cells and embryonic germ cells” (section 2.32).

Thus, the report on the legislation effectively ring-fenced what was at stake and put forward a classification system that judges the value of cells according to their differentiation potential. This makes it difficult for people who take a holistic (rather than reductionist) approach to these issues – who see the value of ES cells and germ cells as inseparable from the contexts of their derivation and application – to have their views about ESCR taken seriously and be represented in these summaries. The assumption that aspects of cells presented as technical are given by nature rather than socially constructed is not put forward in the report or during public debates as a value but as the way things are; by contrast, see Marks (2010) on the under-determination of stem cell classifications.

Because of this choice of classification scheme, the apparent therapeutic success of the rat experiment could potentially be used as an example of the therapeutic promise for ES cells, thereby reinforcing the need for this research to proceed. However, another aspect that was missing from some of these parliamentary debates, due to the focus on the nomenclature issue, was whether these cells were indeed therapeutic. Many of the discussions seem to take for granted that the rats were cured. Dr Haley was one of a few expert witnesses who highlighted that the rat “was not cured” (Senate Community Affairs Legislation Committee 2002a, CA74). Indeed, the rats were disabled by a virus that attacks motor-neurons; their spinal cord was not damaged, or even severed, in the way it might be in a human during a car crash. Although the final report cites Dr Haley's criticism, no further details are given, and the therapeutic potential of the cells used in the rat experiment is not dwelt upon.

The lack of discussion of the relevance of the rat's recovery to treating spinal cord injury was by contrast commented on during interviews. For instance, a supporter of ESCR argued as follows:

Bernard: The story of [these] rats was that they had a viral motor-neuron disease, they didn't have spinal cord injury, nothing to do with that. […] What the press jumped up about, was that they weren't embryonic stem cells, but they were these gonadal stem cells which, you know … But the point was that they missed the major discrepancy that this had nothing to do with spinal cord injury and that the data was unpublished and it wasn't verified and you know, and it really upset me greatly […]. I mean if they don't do anything, there is no debate.

Bernard, like Oliver, does not distinguish between ES and germ cells; he depicts them as having similar properties. However, he does see a difference between reducing the rats' mobility by using a virus that prevents their neurons from working properly, and doing so by severing their spinal cord. He indicates that the symptoms of the latter would not have been reverted by this experiment. Bernard's focus on this is likely to be due to his clinical experience of spinal cord injuries, but despite his well-recognized expertise, he was not able to direct discussions towards challenging the therapeutic implications of this experiment.

The report on the debates does not explicitly state whether or not this experiment should directly be used to support the case for ESCR. However, it argues that ES cells and germ cells have the same pluripotency (see above) and it concludes the chapter on the science of SCR by stating that most of the scientific community agree that therapies from SCR, including ESCR, “have at least the potential to ameliorate currently incurable conditions” (Parliament of Australia 2002a, section 2.139). In addition, it does not dismiss this rat experiment as irrelevant and outside the remit of the Parliamentary Inquiry, despite its use of material from terminations (already legislated separately). Therefore, it is arguable that some people who participated in these debates and read the reports (including those who voted on the legislation) came away with a sense that the rat experiment contributed to the therapeutic promise of ESCR.

In both the reports on the Parliamentary Inquiry, some understandings of embryo and stem cells (e.g. whether the embryo is fully human from conception) are put forward as views, while others (e.g. the importance of pluripotency) are put forward as fact. The former can be dismissed as not universal, while the latter can go unchallenged and guide policy. This led to a number of important issues and concerns remaining unexplored.

Cyborg tricksters and implications for public conversations about techno-science

This paper has examined a key episode in the public debates about SCR in Australia, and how scientists made sense of it in private. In the lead up to the first Australian nation-wide legislation on embryo research and cloning, an experiment was presented to politicians by Professor Oliver: neural stem cells were injected into a disabled rat, apparently curing it. These stem cells were new entities, “ontological novelties” (Jasanoff 2005b), whose classification had not been settled upon. The resulting struggles over their meaning were publicly visible and open to analysis.

The injected cells were here shown to be “cyborgs” (Haraway 1991) that do not easily fit into pre-existing categories. They are not quite natural, not quite artificial, not quite human, not quite animal. They were also isolated from the primordial gonads of a cyborg entity: not quite an embryo, not quite a fetus; so they are not quite from embryonic stem cells, not quite from germ cells.

In this concluding discussion, I examine the different ways in which these cells were categorized and highlight the implications of this. As Haraway's concept of “coding trickster” reminds us, these classifications are all contingent, but we need to retain a sense of responsibility for those we choose to hold on to. In particular, exploring the different ways of classifying these cells shows that different cyborgs can be constructed or imagined, some of which are more “hurting” (van der Ploeg 2004) than others.

Contingent classifications

Three main ways of classifying these novel cells were used in Parliament and in private by scientists. One was according to their therapeutic potential. This was not the main focus of the public controversy, which is unusual since claims and counter-claims about therapeutic applications are often dominant in discussions about SCR (Parry 2003, Rubin 2008, Marks 2010). Here, Oliver classified the neural cells as having therapeutic potential, since the rat was able to walk again after the stem cell injection. However, other scientists, particularly in the context of interviews, argued that these cells were not automatically relevant for spinal cord injury therapies, since the virus-induced motor-neuron injuries to which the rats had been subjected are very different from injuries where the spinal cord is severed. However, public discussions about the validity of claims regarding the therapeutic potential of these cells was obscured by a focus on other classificatory disputes, in particular whether the cells were embryonic or fetal.

The second way of classifying these cells was according to their differentiation potential. Some people, including Oliver, highlighted the continuity between the rat cells and ES cells. Within this classification scheme, the rat experiment serves to support the promise of ESCR: it offers one of the few examples of a specific route to an ES cell therapy. By contrast, most other ESCR promises at the time had been based on vague assumptions that differentiation potential equals therapeutic potential (Parry 2003, Marks 2010). We see here that although discussion of therapies was not at the forefront it remains a key element to the backdrop of conversations about SCR.

Other people drew on the same classification scheme, but highlighted the discontinuity between the rat cells and ES cells. For them, the cells from the primordial germ cells are “several steps downstream” from ES cells, which means that the rat experiment cannot be used to justify ESCR.

The third way of classifying these cells was according to their source: IVF embryos or material from pregnancy terminations. This classification scheme again highlights the discontinuity between the rat cells and ES cells, and challenges the use of the rat experiment in supporting ESCR. The discontinuity derives first from the legal setting in which ES cells and the rat cells are located, including different legislation and funding rules. Secondly, it derives from the different emotional reactions generated from working with something akin to what has here been called the “public blastocyst” – the non-human-like pinhead-sized ball of cells – and with the “public fetus” (Lynch 2009) – the baby-like body with limbs and a beating heart. Another difference relates to the clinical settings in which the cells are derived – IVF or terminations – and how these derivations might materialize in women's bodies: the processes women undergo to have eggs extracted in attempts to conceive a child vs. those which they undergo to terminate a pregnancy. This was not however a focus of discussions either in private or in public.

Hurting and helpful cyborgs

Haraway's cyborg figure can help us do important political work by forcing us to acknowledge the constructed nature of cyborg entities and take responsibility for them. The different cyborgs constructed by participants in this particular debate have different implications for which voices and issues are counted as legitimate in these discussions, whose bodies are rendered visible and important, and which kinds of research are deemed legitimate and worthy of investment.

Oliver's cyborg aligns cells according to their differentiation potential and not their source. As mentioned above, this enabled the success of the rat experiment to indicate therapeutic potential for blastocyst-derived stem cells in addition to germ cell-derived stem cells, thus expanding the authority and definition of ES cell. This can have the material implication of creating support for the legalization of ESCR.

In addition, this focus on a criterion that can only be measured in laboratories gives prominence to voices that can cast themselves as rational and technical – that is scientists'. This leads to the exclusion of alternative explicitly values-based views; this is not uncommon (see Nelkin 1975, Irwin and Wynne 1996, Haraway 1997, Wynne 2005, Goven 2006, Ross 2007). The focus on differentiation potential does not recognize that even the most technical knowledge claims are shaped by particular assumptions and worldviews, some of which were highlighted here.

Oliver's cyborg also can have the result of making some issues more difficult to discuss. If his cyborg becomes naturalized, that is if we forget its constructed nature, issues about tissue procurement become harder to raise: by labeling these cells “embryonic,” issues around terminations are de-emphasized and women's bodies disappear from view and from the debate.

Similarly, the report on the Parliamentary Inquiry (Parliament of Australia 2002a), defines differentiation potential as the most important classification criterion for stem cells. This focus means that those voting on the legislation are encouraged to judge the value of different areas of SCR according to the number of tissue-types cells can differentiate into, not according to where they come from. This again facilitates technocratic understandings, excludes explicitly value-based judgments and makes women's bodies disappear.

However, even those who chose to draw on a more explicitly emotional classification scheme, highlighting that the cells came from a fetus with human-like features, only emphasized issues related to the destruction of embryonic/fetal life. The focus stayed well away from the women from whose bodies come eggs for IVF embryos and terminated embryos/fetuses. These groups construct a cyborg which draws our attention to the fetus, but as a free-standing individual – Lynch's “public fetus.” So once again, women disappear.

Pfeffer and Kent (2006, 2007) have highlighted the contrast in the field of SCR between the openness and transparency surrounding the use of IVF embryos, and the secrecy and non-compliance surrounding the use of material obtained from terminations of pregnancy in the UK. However, this country is often touted as a model for SCR regulation, indicating that the issues around the regulation of fetal material have not yet been appropriately explored in public. This paper gives a further example of how conversations about the use of material from abortions in research are closed off. This is particularly problematic as evidence is emerging that termination protocols may be altered in order to provide “better” tissue for SCR, rather than focusing solely on the well-being of the woman (Pfeffer 2009, see also Kent 2008).

In addition, women may feel uncomfortable about donating tissue once they understand that this may result in immortal cell lines, rather than some form of closure (Pfeffer 2008), suggesting potential problems with informed consent procedures. Although some commentators tried to open up this last avenue of discussion, their concerns were dismissed and the report on the Parliamentary Inquiry clearly states that “The two main sets of ethical issues posed by the Bill before the Senate concern, first, the ethics of human cloning and, second, the ethics of destructive research on human embryos” (Parliament of Australia 2002a, section 3.1).

These parliamentary debates were therefore a missed opportunity: even though the controversy over Oliver's classification scheme could have enabled a further exploration of these different cyborgs, the discussion remained tightly ring-fenced. There was a strong emphasis given to the status of the embryo, but even this was ultimately dismissed in favor of a focus on cells' differentiation potential.

Therefore I want to put forward an alternative way of classifying these stem cells: according to their sources, which include not only the embryo/fetus but also women's bodies as well the potentially emotionally charged journeys that women (and men) go through in the context of IVF and pregnancy terminations. Drawing attention to these aspects of SCR will I hope open up the possibility of richer conversations about the role of those who donate tissue and about informed consent.

There is of course a danger in highlighting the fluidity of categories such as embryo or fetus and in highlighting the link of SCR with abortion, because this may play into the hands of those who oppose all forms of research on embryos and fetuses, or who oppose terminations. However, the figure of the cyborg helps to contain this danger: insistence on the inevitable contingencies of boundary-drawing means that no one account of these entities can, finally, determine their meaning. Likewise, cyborgs, as actors in the world, can never be “innocent,” forcing all actors who engage in their construction to acknowledge the implications of this process. It is on these bases that I put forward the figure of the cyborg as a facilitator of conversations which will encourage better categorizations of ESCR, categorizations which support its exciting promises in ways that simultaneously pay attention to the silenced “partial perspectives” discussed here.

Postscript

The recently released Heerey Report on the review of the Australian embryo research legislation (Legislation Review Committee 2011) makes a number of recommendations (Table 1). In particular, it suggests legislating for the creation for use in research of embryos derived from in vitro-derived eggs and sperm. These can be created from precursor cells from fetal material. Therefore it is as important as ever to have conversations about how, when and why it may be appropriate to use material originating from pregnancy terminations. The silenced “partial perspectives” discussed above need to be given a voice.

Acknowledgements

This research was supported by an MRC studentship. I would like to thank my supervisors Wendy Faulkner, Veronica van Heyningen and especially Sarah Parry, as well as the other students in office 1.04. for help during my PhD. Thanks also to the MRC Human Genetics Unit and the ESRC Innogen Centre for supporting my work and to Wayne Hall and Paul Griffith for hosting me at the University of Queensland. Earlier versions of this paper were presented at the Edinburgh postgraduate Works in Progress conference, the 4S-EAASST meeting in Rotterdam and the University of Sydney HPS seminar series. I am grateful for the University of Wollongong conference and Early Career Researcher support. I would like to acknowledge David Mercer, Mark McLelland, and Siân Beynon-Jones for helpful comments on earlier drafts. Particular thanks go to all the participants who agreed to be interviewed for this project.

Notes

It is impossible to do justice to the rich literature on the social construction of knowledge and on the classification/ordering of nature, but some important and/or recent works include: Barnes (1983), Bloor (1976), Bowker and Star (1999), Castree and Braun (1998), Keller (2008), Hauskeller (2005a, 2005b), Jasanoff (2004), Martin (1987), and Parry and Dupré (2010).

In line with the constructivist stance taken here and in accordance with Haraway, labels such as “technical” or “political” are seen as strategic and contingent (see below). They are nevertheless not henceforth used with quotation marks for the sake of readability.

Also called the genital ridge, from which develop the testis or ovaries of the organism.

Germ cells in humans are the eggs and sperm cells.

For example the ISSCR (n.d.) marks the limit between embryo and fetus at “7–8 weeks after fertilization.”

For instance the fetus can be defined as the stage “from 10 weeks of gestation until birth” (PregnancySurvey.com 2007).

According to the online Medical Dictionary (Dictionary.com 2007) an “embryo” is “a vertebrate at any stage of development prior to birth or hatching” and for the University of Southern California Department of Surgery (n.d.), the fetus is “a human embryo in the mother's uterus.”

For example, a fetus can be defined as a “young mammal within the uterus of the mother from the visible completion of characteristic organogenesis until birth” (Specialized Information Services 2009).

It is usually argued that embryonic stem cells are “pluripotent” as they can give rise to all cell types in the body; adult stem cells such as bone marrow stem cells are only “multipotent” as they give rise to cells from one lineage: e.g. all the blood cells (for more on this and for some caveats of these classifications see Marks 2010).