Monthly Archives: October 2017

Listening to David Tuller talking with Vincent Raccianello

In 2014, I contributed a chapter and a half to a book called ‘Art, Science and Cultural Understanding’. One of my core concerns in these chapters is with our cultures inability to recognise the increasingly toxic social role of scientism and aestheticism as secular belief systems. This problem, and particularly the issue of scientism, is linked to the fact that the whole academic institutional complex (which includes the academic research and publishing industries), are increasingly becoming unfit for purpose, something that the vice-chancellor of Aberdeen University, Ferdinand von Prondzynski, started to publically acknowledge back in 2008.  (Interestingly, von Prondzynski later suggested that the disciplinary basis of the academy make it increasingly unable to address the ‘wicked’ problems that we most need to address.

All this is on my mind because I spent some time last night listening to the academic and journalist David Tuller talking to Vincent Raccianello on ‘This Week in Virology’. 

Tuller’s work demonstrates how, in practice, the popular belief in scientism is exploited for their own ends by by lobby groups like the Science Media Centre, by government policy makers, and by academics like Prof. Crawley of Bristol University, whose rather questionable and unethical research activities he discusses and suggests may be fraudulent. Although he touches briefly on the fact that both universities and prominent journals within the academic publishing industry have repeatedly failed to address such unethical and, in some cases, potentially fraudulent research activity, this seems to me one of the most striking and distressing consequences of the convergence between the academic culture, the culture of scientism, and a business ethos in which the only values are those of the financial bottom line.

The complex and unfolding situation Tuller has identified and discussed in his Trial by Error blog since 2015 not only shows, for example, how very senior members of the psychiatric and research professions, aided and abetted by the supposedly neutral Science Media Centre, have benefitted from portraying themselves as ‘victims’ of violent and dangerous patients. (A claim they were wholly unable to substantiate in court). It has also demonstrated the quite extraordinary lengths to which universities will go to protect their investment in academic researchers who are hell bent on defending their own discredited activity. An unethical and highly dubious practice that continues despite the ‘scientific’ work produced by such researchers being identified, as Tuller makes very clear, both as ‘bad science’ and as heavily tainted by vested interests of various kinds.

As Tuller’s blog of 15th May 2017 – ‘Trial By Error, Continued: The CMRC Affirms Full Support for Libelous Esther’ – indicates, one thing both the researchers and universities clearly fear is that their unethical practices will become more generally known and discussed among the communities on whom their reputations and research income depend. Namely, other scientists and academics. It is one thing to discredit patients who are critical of what they know to be dangerous and discredited practices by getting support from the Science Media Centre to brand them as violent; it is quite another to maintain the kind of very serious deceptions Tuller has worked so hard to uncover once they become common knowledge in the academic and scientific community.

If you have any interest in the probity and integrity of either science or Higher Education, please read David Tuller’s blog. It represents a resounding condemnation of a growing tendency within the academic institutional complex to put income generation and reputational gain before ethics and social responsibility. We can only combat this tendency by sharing knowledge and asking questions.

Friends

For the last five years I have been working on a text called ‘Convergences’, the last iteration of my ‘Debatable Land’ project. It is an attempt to address what the phrase ‘kith and kin’ might mean to us now.  As I start to bring it to a conclusion, then, the notion of friendship and memory is very much on my mind.  On Saturday I met up with a group of people, including some old friends, to mark one of our number’s departure to China for a year. Perhaps as a result, that sense of being preoccupied with notions of friendship was further reinforced.

To find a poet whose work is new to you and speaks to your heart is to make a new friend. Naturally, having discovered them, you want to get to know their work, to spend time with them. So, having recently come across the poetry of Naomi Shihab Nye and been very moved by it, I wanted to read more. I always feel guilty about buying too many books but, despite that, have now bought several of Nye’s, second-hand, on line. Today the first one, ‘Tender Spot: Selected Poems’, arrived in the post. (My wife then opened it by mistake, thinking it was junk.)

As it happens, my new book has a hand-written dedication on the flyleaf, as follows:

For Pinar and Memet, new friends – with all my heart of respect and pleasure!

You shine!!

Love, Naomi Shihab Nye

While I was making dinner, peeling the carrots and preparing the spices for the cauliflower dish my daughter particularly likes, I wonder about Pinar and Memet. At first, I was just puzzled, wondering what, after such an effusive declaration of friendship on Nye’s behalf, prompted them to sell or give away this book that is now mine. Did the friendship simply fail to blossom? Where they just indifferent to her poems? Did they all have a falling out? And just who are Pinar and Memet anyway, and what was it they did that made them shine?

Then, as I prepare to soak the cauliflower, I remember Naomi Shihab Nye’s wonderful prose poem ‘My Perfect Stranger’. (It makes me laugh out loud and then cry each time I read it.) Her perfect stranger is a five-year old who ends up in the seat in front of her. already a poet and artist. She wears a lacy white party dress, has a little tuft of pink hair, and her fluting voice. The clear, unselfconscious voice that Nye fears might announce their shared identity as Arabs, sitting on an American flight to San Francisco, to all and sundry. So, she doesn’t share the knowledge of their common identity with the child. And, at that point in my wondering about Pinar and Memet, my speculations suddenly become edged with fear for them.

How easy it is for me to idly imagine the disposal of a book in terms familiar to me. A friendship that faltered and withered. or perhaps simply failed to blossom in the first place; an indifferent to someone’s work, or a falling out. But, of course, there are many other, externally imposed, reasons why Pinar and Memet might have had to let the book go. After all, I know quite enough about the difficulties of simply moving one’s family to a new house. (Last time we did that I felt obliged to cull my library by about a third.) How much worse, then, to be faced by exile then, to be forced to ‘travel light’, to leave valued friends and possessions behind simply because you have no other option?

Of course, I still know nothing about Pinar and Memet, beyond the simple fact that Nye saw them as new friends, as people she respected and whose company gave her pleasure, who shined. Yet at this point it seems hard not to care about, even fear for, these two strangers who mattered to a poet whose work I admire.

On keeping quiet

I’ve been neglecting this blog again, and for all the usual reasons. Family complications, the daily round of cooking, shopping and cleaning, working in the studio. But also other activities, like  a visit to Hestercombe  to work with a small group of artists, curators and others interested in art and landscape through an invitation from a friend. A slow and thoughtful process of conversation and response that will conclude with the core group having an exhibition there early next year.

And perhaps because I wonder how valuable it is always to be writing an opinion on this or that. This last though is reinforced by reading the wonderful Naomi Shihab Nye, and in particular her poem: ‘I Feel Sorry for Jesus’ (from ‘You and Yours’; 2005, Rochester N.Y., Boa Editions.) Her wanting to be silent, to have:

… A secret pouch

of listening…’

seems such an appropriate response to the twitter storm world. This won’t last, since I’m perfectly sure I can’t keep off my hobby-horses for long.