Science shaped by collaboration and openness may challenge the masculine traditions that have long defined discovery. Photo credit: National Cancer Institute on Unsplash.
I grew up in Cambridge and, when walking through the town centre, would often pass The Eagle. The Eagle is an unremarkable Greene King pub, with the exception of a blue plaque on its front wall. For much of my childhood, the plaque read ‘It was here on February 28th 1953 that Francis Crick and James Watson first announced their discovery of how DNA carries genetic information.’ In the blue space below the text, someone had etched the words, ‘+ Franklin’.
My mum told me the story. The Eagle was the regular haunt of scientists working in the Cavendish laboratory, and one day its patrons witnessed the moment when Crick proudly announced that he had ‘discovered the secret of life’. Franklin, who contributed important data that informed research into DNA structure, was not properly credited in Watson and Crick’s original publications, although they later attempted to rectify this. She is now named on The Eagle’s new plaque, unveiled in 2023, and her name is almost as well-known as Watson and Crick.
Crick’s declaration is one of many iconic stories of male scientific discovery…but stories like these underpin a widespread social perception of science as a series of momentous, individual discoveries, by eccentric, gifted men.
Crick’s declaration is one of many iconic stories of male scientific discovery, along with Archimedes’ bathtime ‘Eureka’, Newton’s falling apple, and Galileo dropping weights from the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Their accuracy may be questionable, but stories like these underpin a widespread social perception of science as a series of momentous, individual discoveries, by eccentric, gifted men.
In school, my favourite subjects were maths and science, in no small part because my budding interest in feminism led me to believe this was subversive. I liked to read about the growing presence of women in science, and the female scientists who were increasingly being recognised, often posthumously, for their work. At this time, I understood science to be an individual endeavour, wherein great people, following a lifetime of intense thinking, come up with a career-defining theory. Accordingly, I thought that a feminist scientific community would be one where such discoveries would be equally praised irrespective of gender.
…in a Britain which is becoming increasingly individualistic and insular, open science seemed, to me, radical.
At university, studying psychology among a cohort of mainly women, my view of feminist science began to shift. In my second year, I had a lecture on open science, a movement encouraging scientists to collaborate, leave findings open for scrutiny, and share results freely, making knowledge and data accessible. It promotes the preregistration of experimental methods, and the publication of non-significant results. It gives proper credit to everyone involved in research and inspires inter-institutional collaboration. Crucially, it also encourages the sharing of resources, giving colleagues the opportunity to replicate and contribute to each other’s work. In a world where everything is patented and monetised, and in a Britain which is becoming increasingly individualistic and insular, open science seemed, to me, radical.
There are many reasons for the shift towards open science in psychology and beyond—modern technology, globalisation, and the reproducibility crisis are key examples—but I would like to venture that one factor is the increasing presence of women in science. The patriarchy teaches men to be authoritative and to strive for individual financial success or an impressive reputation. In contrast, it teaches women to be friendly and caring, but unsure. We must be enthusiastic, but avoid over-confidence, and always make sure to caveat with, “I might be wrong”. (I am reminded of the finding that women use more exclamation marks than men!) I should note here that these “male” or “female” stereotypes are by no means universal, and everyone experiences gender and the influence of the patriarchy differently. Indeed, a central goal of feminism is to ensure that nobody feels bound by the traits which society prescribes for their gender. Nevertheless, a science which is increasingly collaborative, speculative, and open to critique, feels distinctly feminine.
…a science which is increasingly collaborative, speculative, and open to critique, feels distinctly feminine.
A pet peeve of mine is the idea of scientific “debate”. Specifically, I find it frustrating when two hot-shot professors have opposing views, and their labs continuously publish data which confirms each of their respective theories. Each professor either ignores any conflicting papers, or pokes holes in them until they cannot hold water. No resolution is reached. Such debates illustrate everything I dislike about the masculine, reputation-driven science we are used to. Let us imagine the same scenario in a feminist scientific community, in which scientific greatness is grounded in traits (such as friendliness and uncertainty) stereotypically assigned to women. All new data would be published with openness to critique, acknowledgement of how it conflicts with other data, and with the expectation that other scientists may point out flaws or reinterpretations. Moreover, the two labs would ultimately collaborate on a new line of work together, which attempts to reconcile two theories and find a nuanced middle ground. Any debate would act to promote new ideas until the original contention ceases to exist.
This is a difficult line to tread. I do not wish to imply that women should feel uncertain, or any less confident in their beliefs, than their male counterparts. I am also aware that various male traits can be argued to promote progress too. But I strongly believe that science should always be open to disagreement, and that overconfidence in any single theory (or person) hinders advancements. Scientific theories should generate falsifiable hypotheses, meaning that good science is always science which might be proved incorrect. This understanding of science feels a long way from the “Eureka moments” of famous male discoveries.
Science, like all industries, is heavily influenced by the power structures entrenched in society (for example, see this article on how power shapes global science, published recently in the Oxford Scientist). It is impossible to know what science would look like outside of a patriarchy, because it is impossible to know what humans would be like outside of a patriarchy. But I propose that, while nobody should feel restricted by the assumptions society applies to their gender, stereotypically feminine traits are of great value in science. Female scientists are brilliant not because they have overcome the limits of their gender, but because femininity generates brilliant science.
Female scientists are brilliant not because they have overcome the limits of their gender, but because femininity generates brilliant science.
This article is the result of several years of thinking, while finding my place among the masculine traditions of an institution like Oxford. I champion feminist and feminine science not just as a thought exercise, but as a way to guide my own contributions to my field, as I look forward to beginning my DPhil in Experimental Psychology this autumn. I do not wish to make a discovery that puts my name on a plaque, or to be lauded as an eccentric genius. Instead, I hope to collaborate, and to publish thoughts which are nuanced, speculative, and transparent, and to proudly caveat my ideas with the phrase, “I might be wrong…”.
Some ideas expressed in this article are opinion, and may not represent the opinion of The Oxford Scientist as a whole.
Edited by Eleanor Hamilton Clark and Mathilda Lang.
