Since the development of the scientific method in early modern times, research — conducted according to strict scientific parameters — has been the gold standard in the development and documentation of new knowledge. On the surface, this is both intuitive and fitting, as only scientific research has the rigor necessary to ensure consistent and objective results, and to eliminate misconception made on the basis of prejudice or folk knowledge.
But are we placing too much confidence in scientific research — a confidence that is disturbingly suggestive of its antithesis, blind faith? In fact, is there any guarantee that scientific research as practiced today does what it is meant to do — namely, to deliver knowledge in its unadulterated and therefore most reliable form?
Scientific research itself has developed in a way that seems to ensure its rigor. There are numerous checks and balances present within each study, before it is published in a peer reviewed journal — the examination and vetting by peers being an additional level of rigor.
Much of postgraduate study is a slow, systematic learning of the form. Thus far, all may appear to be well within the discipline. Young scholars begin to make a name for themselves by the process of contributing to the body of official, scientific knowledge. It is like an informal apprenticeship that suggests genuine meritocracy.
Unfortunately, the appearance of meritocracy may be only skin deep. There are many factors governing what research gets published and gets to see the light of day, and only some of these have to do with the actual merit of the scholarship.
Research is costly, and so is the time taken to pursue it — and academics are not the most moneyed class in any society. Most scholars are reliant on a network of grants and fellowships until they are lucky enough to attain a tenured position at a university. But even then, the selection of research topics depends in large part on what is likely and what is less likely to be funded. When corporate funding affects the integrity of research — when, for example, a pharmaceutical company funds drug trials, and only results favoring its products are released — the moral failing should be obvious to all. But a comparable dynamic occurs in much more subtle ways. A university department, considering its standing and reputation, encourages research and publicizes research results that will augment its image.
All of this is quite understandable, when taken on a case-by-case basis. Collectively, though, it creates a distressing image. What we are dealing with, essentially, is the commoditization of research — ‘commoditization’ being the transformation of something into a commodity, a thing that can be bought and sold, when that thing originally was not for sale.
Commoditization almost inevitably changes the nature and the integrity of the commodity. Meanwhile, all of us in the academic world are well accustomed to the adage “publish or perish.” The pressure to continuously generate new research is as strong as ever. The “rules,” the parameters of research will, I believe, serve us as well as they ever did, if we give them the chance. But I worry for the future of research, and of knowledge itself, if we don’t take measures to protect its objectivity.
