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observation on the creation of physicians™ perceptions of the fetus as a separate
patient (Savill 2002: 49).
40. She draws on Naf¬ne, and her claim that ˜law™s conception of a person with discrete
and unbroken bodily boundaries misrepresents the bodily reality of all human beings.
But it particularly misrepresents the bodily realities of women whose deviance from
this norm is most irrepressible when they are pregnant™ (Naf¬ne 2002: 46, notes omit-
ted). As a so-called ˜part™ of the mother, the fetus cannot itself “ in the received view “
be a person (Davies and Naf¬ne 2001 : 91).
41. This I read into Savill™s own gloss: she suggests Karpin intends that one should ˜not
draw boundaries within the maternal body in order to make it ¬t into a conceptual
169
NOTES TO PAGES 30“34


framework that relies on individuation as a pre-requisite to selfhood, but rather, to
accept the connections and differentiations of mother and foetus in their complexity,
without undermining the selfhood and subject status of the pregnant woman™ (Savill
2002: 66, my emphasis; see also Naf¬ne 2002: 82). Karpin (1992: 326) earlier posited ˜an
empowering con¬guration™ in which ˜the woman™s body is seen as neither container
nor separate entity from the fetus. Until the baby is born the fetus is the female body™
(original emphasis). A Melanesian perspective would make explicit the fact that a
body can have relations internal to it.
42. There have been moments of exhaustion within biotechnology itself. Fox Keller
(2000: 72) points to the very term gene as an impediment to exposition of genetics.
43. Without presupposing distinction. Savill objects (2002: 67) to ˜a relational view™ that
would presuppose the fetus as an entity to which others could relate as a distinct
person. But if one starts with the relationship rather than the entities, nothing is
presupposed about dynamics of interaction, developmental trajectories or asymme-
tries. We might say that what is so important for Euro-Americans at birth is not just
that a new person becomes visually apparent but (in that bodily separation) a new
relation. In other cultural contexts, bodily separation itself can be delayed through
various forms of postnatal identi¬cation between mother and child, and relations
unfold in other ways.
44. The clinic (Sydney IVF) featured in both these stories. Of 1 000 IVF cycles now
performed by this clinic annually, the newspaper noted that only about twenty are
with donated sperm; almost all are with sperm from known donors.
45. Conversely, we might expect that donor anonymity comes into its own, not as an
adjunct of concepts of the nuclear family whose integrity has to be preserved but by
creating special kinds of connections (see Konrad 1988).


chapter 2: embedded science
1. U.K. government initiatives have been fuelled by crises over food and technology
and by apparently plummeting public respect accorded to science. The ICSU™s (2003)
preparatory document for its review was explicit: ˜If ICSU is really to address some
of the key “science and society” issues, then it may have to look beyond its current
“academic” membership and seek partners representing other sectors of society.
Building on commitments made during the World Conference of Science in 1999,
this is something we have now committed ourselves to do in relation to the World
Summit on Sustainable Development, where the international community has asked
for “a new contract between science and society” ™.
2. An engagement with society, environment turned actor (˜the context speaks back™),
replaces the old contract between relatively isolated experts who in return for being
allowed (funded) to freely pursue research gave back public bene¬ts from time to
time. Much of this modelling of relations is spelled out by Gibbons 1999; Nowotny,
Scott and Gibbons 2001 . The Branco-Weiss international fellowship programme,
Society in Science, which made its ¬rst appointments in 2003, was the inspiration of
Helga Nowotny and colleagues (at the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology, Zurich).
Strathern (2004a; 2004b) explores some of these arguments.
3. It will be appreciated that I present a highly focused (selected) version of anthropo-
logical history. For a fascinating account of kinship analysis reproducing capitalist
economic utilities, see McKinnon 2001.
170 NOTES TO PAGES 34“38


4. Among the four changes in knowledge about the natural world, with which Shapin
(1996: 13) credits the seventeenth century, is the depersonalisation of natural knowl-
edge and the growing separation of subjects and objects. The other three are mech-
anisation, that is, the use of mechanical metaphors to describe natural processes;
mechanisation of knowledge-making, that is, the introduction of speci¬c methods;
and aspiration to deploy scienti¬c knowledge in the service of moral or political
judgement given that it itself was rendered disinterested, a point on which Haraway
(1997) has famously written.
5. The legal versions take on attributes of their own, as we shall see in Part II. Many of
these points are made in Alain Pottage™s work, not separately referenced here.
6. Theory, from the same Greek root as theatre, a sight or spectacle, was in the seven-
teenth century expanded to encompass contemplation, a mental view, a conceptual
or mental schema, and from there to a system of ideas or statements held as an
explanation for phenomena or a systematic statement of general principles or laws.
7. My very own medicine: What must I know? (Melzer 2003) is the title of a review
on information policy for pharmacogenetics completed for The Wellcome Trust
by the Department of Public Health and Primary Care, University of Cambridge.
Pharmacogenetics is the study of genetically determined variability in response to
drugs and their application. (The clinical application of products involves the genetic
testing of individual patients.) Prime ethical problems are envisaged in the disclosure
of information to third parties (Corrigan 2004).
8. A quali¬cation follows: ˜with a shared interest in medical progress and the conquest
of illness™. Molecular biology has grown up alongside the society-and-science debate.
9. For a discussion of material from U.S. law, see Dolgin (2000), discussed in Chap-
ter One. The irony of family in this sense standing for society, however diminished
by the epithet micro, will not be lost on feminist scholars.
10. ˜Although considerations of genetic solidarity and altruism [acknowledging one™s
responsibilities without coercion] will generally take second place to the principle
of respect for persons . . . [meaning, as human beings], there may be exceptional
circumstances in which the contrary is true. In such cases the social interest “ or
the common good “ may be weightier than the individual interest, and certain
rights of the individual may take second place™, an example being the storage of the
genetic pro¬les of criminals (HGC 2002: 2.11). The concept of genetic solidarity is
taken from the UNESCO Universal Declaration on the Human Genome and Human
Rights adopted in 1997 (endorsed by the U.N. General Assembly in 1998).
11. He uses relations and relationship interchangeably. ˜My view is that insofar as anthro-
pology has a speci¬c subject-matter at all, that subject-matter is social relationships “
relationships between participants in social systems of various kinds™ (Gell 1998: 4).
˜Anthropological theories are distinctive in that they are typically about social rela-
tionships™ (1998: 11). He goes on to say that this is not a matter of supplying contexts
for interpreting art objects but of understanding the relata (here, art objects) as social
agents.
12. Criticised by Dumont, whose argument was that social science was misled to think
it should be seeking correlations or mechanisms and not intellectual coherence; it
should not aim to be a causal science but the study of meaningful relations: ˜For
Dumont, studying a social system is studying a form of mind™ (Descombes 2000:
40). Descombes focuses on the role of ˜mind™ in critiques of this position.
171
NOTES TO PAGES 39“44


13. What religion had revealed was the relationship between man and God. Science
hardly invented a self-referential universe (I am grateful to discussions with Alan
Strathern on this point, but he is not responsible for my rendering of them). Fara
(2003: 20“21) describes the pain felt by Linneaus™s rivals ˜who were trying to work
out [discover] God™s original blueprint for the universe, and . . . accused Linneaus of
choosing [inventing] an arbitrary plan rather than one that was divinely ordained™.
(Of course his system of classi¬cation subsequently became a blueprint against which
further discoveries could be veri¬ed.)
14. And distinctions between elements that participate in one another™s construction
are propped up (Law 1994) by other distinctions. Barry (2001 : 171 “2) appropriately
writes: ˜[T]he production of scienti¬c information involves a double movement. On
the one hand, the production of knowledge is a creative act. Reality is not merely
re¬‚ected in the form of information or knowledge: it is creatively worked with and
acted upon [movement within the movement] . . . Second, in order for the new object
of information . . . to be produced it must be sustained and circulated. This neces-
sarily depends not just on the use of scienti¬c procedures and techniques, but also
on political negotiations and bargains, government grants . . . a vast and increas-
ingly transnational arrangement of technical, political and economic resources and
agreements™.
15. Edmund Leach (1976) recapitulated some of the debate in his contrast between
Radcliffe-Brown™s suppositions and those of L´ vi-Strauss.
e
16. Following the work of Gilbert (1989), he earlier used the example of a game of doubles
tennis: one cannot confuse the individual agents who make up the adversaries from
the social collective agent formed by two players who make up a team. Social actions
always depend on partners. On second glance, the example is less than helpful; after
all, there is a sense in which all the players, not just the doubles partners, are engaged
in a common pursuit that de¬nes them as parties to it.
17. Monadologie et sociologie, 1893. (Translated by Eduardo Viveiros de Castro, who
relayed the passage to me on reading the text that became Chapter Six [this volume];
personal communications, 2002.)
18. Perpetual motion machine after Crook 2004. The Enlightenment made this explicit:
˜natural philosophy had to be underpinned by ideas about it how it was possible
to know “nature” at all™ (my emphasis), and people were preoccupied with ˜the
relationship of man to nature, the very possibility of knowledge of the external
world, and . . . the best way to organise such knowledge™ (Outram 1995: 50, 48).
19. One example of a debate that seemingly followed these contours, of which I am
obviously no judge at all, was reported by Israel (2001 : 249“51). This concerns con-
¬‚icting views over the laws of motion; Spinoza™s views ¬‚ew in the face of the majority:
Descartes, Locke and others. They thought of motion as external to matter, intro-
duced into the material world by God; Spinoza also held that God was the principal
cause of motion but that by the same token it is inherent in things, and the only
differences between individual bodies is in the proportion of motion and rest they
evince. Everything is a balance of opposing pressures.
20. A merographic connection (also from Strathern 1992a). (I would imagine similar
phenomena in other Euro-American contexts, but not necessarily in the form of
class.) In this model, English ideas about kin relationships are always modi¬ed
by other, non-kinship, elements. (For an arresting application of the merographic
172 NOTES TO PAGES 44“46


connection to the ¬eld of pre-implantation diagnosis, see Franklin 2003; for an
equally arresting elucidation with respect of ethnographic practice, see Schlecker
and Hirsch 2001 .)
21. In the Enlightenment, ˜taxonomy™ was ˜the organising principle for all intellec-
tual activity™ (Outram 1995: 48, original emphasis, quoting Foucault™s The order
of things). According to Ziman 2000: 120 (notes omitted, my emphasis): ˜some-
thing like the Linnaean system became necessary in the seventeenth century to
cope with the world-wide diversity of local names for similar “ often the same “
biological species. Although designed around descriptive “family resemblances”
rather than speci¬c measurable properties, this system enabled naturalists to iden-
tify the subjects of their observations to one another, and thus brought order into
biology™.
22. And indeed this characteristic also appeared in social anthropologists™ approach
to kin classi¬cation, as when structural functionalists were reproached for after all
dealing with discrete units. In truth, it was simply that they had not gotten far enough;
they could see the mother™s brother as co-implicated in the de¬nition of mother but
did not totalise the insight, as L´ vi-Strauss™ atom of kinship did, to the relationship
e
between af¬nes and consanguines. Leach (1976) excoriated structural-functionalists™
obsession with comparing societies as units.
23. Shapin (1996: 127, emphasis omitted) observes of the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries, ˜[M]ore and more gentlemen became avid consumers of a reformed body
of knowledge. Practical ethical literature urged gentlemen to take up knowledge as
an aid to virtue as well as civility™. Fara (2003: 57“58) reminds one of the intense
sociability that crossed scienti¬c, literary, diplomatic and artistic circles in eighteenth
century London.
24. On observation as a collective enterprise, see the account of the tracking of the
1664 comet across the country (Shapin 1994: 268): ˜[T]he social stability of scienti¬c
knowledge is a reasonable indicator of its objectivity™ (Ziman 2000: 6).
25. And the idea of class as an analytical unit, as in classi¬cation, can appear in this sec-
ond guise. Leach complained (1976: 15) that in Radcliffe-Brown™s treatment, ˜[T]he
whole discussion focuses on the natural separateness of a class of real objects™, an
argument that led Radcliffe-Brown to de¬ne societies themselves as islands, ˜con-
ceptually isolated systems™. Leach commended those who appreciate ˜that the way
we cut up the empirical cake for the purposes of analysis is a matter of convenience
rather than something that is given by nature™ (1976: 19).
26. And house names were substituted by house numbers, as in streets (in England,
however, surnames had been ¬xed for a long time). These concepts joined with that
of ˜the community of descent™ or lineage that had its own history (Handler and Segal
1990: 32; Mitterauer and Sieder 1977: 10). Macfarlane (1986) opens with a fascinating
account of the impediments that class or station were seen to put in way of marriage,
which would upturn settled habits of association.
27. Although the notion of radical change was afoot then, Shapin (1996: 3) writes, ˜the
beginnings of an idea of revolution in science date from the eighteenth century writ-
ing of the French Enlightement philosophers who liked to portray themselves . . . as
radical™, while there were expert practitioners in the seventeenth century who
˜identi¬ed themselves as “moderns” set against “ancient” modes of thought and
practice™ (1996: 5, original emphasis). See Outram (1995: 48“49).
173
NOTES TO PAGES 48“5 2


28. She is drawing here on two ethnographic investigations by U.S. anthropologists,
respectively Rapp (1999) and Finkler (2000), both of whose pioneering work I
acknowledge.
29. Ultimately, society is thus made, created, in the positivist view. Hence society is
different from all those systems that anthropologists constantly produce as coun-
terfactuals in which people seemingly have no choice as to their associates. (The
Euro-American ˜father™ may be acknowledged on diverse grounds, conventionally
requiring social institutions such as the law to ¬x the determinants.)
30. Which give them their so-called nature. Hence nature is different from all those
systems that anthropologists constantly produce as counterfactuals in which
˜biological™ kin are seemingly invented. (The Euro-American mother conventionally
derives de¬nition from nature, axiomatically created in the very process of giving
birth to the child.)


chapter 3: emergent properties
1. Litigation offers an arena that may be frustrating for social analysis but fascinating for
cultural understanding. Lawyers are paid to stretch the imagination “ the question
is whether their arguments will stick. (On the stretching capacities of contest, see for
example the NRT debates preceding British embryology and fertilisation legislation
[Edwards et al. 1999; Mulkay 1997].) However, as with the appearance of new items
of vocabulary or of interpretation, it may matter little if a phrase begins life as
some outrageous conceit; what is revealing about the culture is how the phrase does
or does not pass into general use. My appropriation of legal opinion for ˜cultural
understanding™ conceals the extent to which judges™ written opinions (the bulk of the
material referred to here) are produced in the very awareness ˜that what they write gets
picked up as the stuff of cultural criticism™ (Annelise Riles, personal communication).
2. Dolgin uses traditional family as shorthand for what emerged during the early years
of the industrial revolution, a family ˜constructed as the cultural antithesis of the
domains of commerce produced by industrialization™ (2000: 524).
3. In this case, the court refused to order blood testing or to take DNA evidence into
account; it relied on the facts about the relationships. A father suing for paternal
rights may be confronted with the argument that a proper familial relationship needs
to include the ability to set up home with the child™s mother (Dolgin 2000: 533).
4. In re the Marriage of John A. and Luanne H. Buzzanca; I am very grateful to Janet
Dolgin for sending me the record from the California Court of Appeal, March 10,
1998.
5. It could ¬nd no biological tie between any of the potential parents and the then
three-year-old girl. The gestational surrogate (who had given birth) was not her
˜biological™ mother, and ipso facto her husband did not count; Luanne could not be
the mother because she had neither contributed her egg nor given birth; John could
not be the father because he had contributed no biological material; the donors did
not come into the picture.
6. This was argued on a parity of reasoning with the existing ruling that a husband™s
consent to his wife™s arti¬cial insemination makes him the lawful father: by con-
senting to the medical procedure, the couple had put themselves into a position
similar to an IVF husband. Note the reference also to their ˜initiating™ the procedure:
174 NOTES TO PAGES 5 2“5 4


˜Even though neither Luanne nor John are biologically related to [the child], they
are still her lawful parents given their initiating role as the intended parents in her
conception and birth™. (California Court of Appeal 1998: 72 Cal. Rptr. 2d at 291). In
the ¬nal verdict, both the Buzzancas were declared the lawful parents, and the birth
certi¬cate altered accordingly.
7. Biagioli (2003) refers to the long chain of names that accompanies authorial claims
in scienti¬c writing. In reproductive medicine, the possibilities continue to grow.
Thus tetraparenthood refers to the technologically feasible creation of an embryo
from the genetic materials of four partners (Brazier et al. 2000, Chapter VII).
8. Without choices having to be asserted or claims being made, perhaps the concept of
technology would not have the same purchase on the imagination as it does: I take
as cultural fact the widespread perception of ˜technology™, especially when it carries
the epithet ˜new™, as a force in everyday contemporary life. Thus Justice Panelli, in the
surrogacy case noted below (Johnson v. Calvert), opened with the general observation
(my emphasis), ˜In this case we address several of the legal questions raised by recent
advances in reproductive technology™ (851 P. 2d. 776).
9. Values of individuality and choice would seem to lie behind both the guidelines and
this form of protest against it. Dolgin (cf. 1997) has more than once commented on
legal situations in which the same values are pressed into service for different ends.
10. The particle physics laboratory, Fermilab; approved in 1998, the proposals are said
to be extended to the European physics laboratory complex, CERN.
11. Those who made the work possible; thus Biagioli points to discussions about the
authorial input of peer reviewers or journal editors. (The term ˜corporate™ carries here
resonances with commercial corporations and the market rather than ideas about a
commnuity of scholars.) Haraway (1997: 7) makes a similar point: ˜Only some of the
necessary “writers” have the semiotic staus of “authors” for any “text”. . . . Similarly,
only some actors and actants that are necessarily allied in a patented innovation have
the status of owner and inventor, authorized to brand a contingent but eminently
real entity with their trademark™.
12. In Biagioli™s view, the basic problem of how to divide attributable claims from ac-
knowledging the support that made them possible is not solved by the corporate
model. This problem is embedded in an epistemological issue about the relationship
between speci¬city (of a particular piece of work) and the general conditions of (its)
possibility. It probably goes without saying that there are also likely to be perennial
political issues, leading to variation in practice between different laboratories (Susan
Drucker-Brown, personal communication).
13. In 1999, the U.K. Association of Learned and Professional Society Publishers pro-
posed that the ˜license to publish™ would entail publishers relinquishing copyright
to authors. Authors could publicly self-archive their work, online for example, and
would be free to give it away, whereas all rights to sell (on paper or online) would be
held by the publisher. (Since widely adopted.)
14. A 1997 Draft Declaration produced by the ¬rst National Consultation of Academic
Authors, a preliminary feeder document initiated by the Authors™ Licensing and
Collecting Society, simply saw claiming moral rights as a warranty of authorship to
the publisher.
15. ˜Moral rights™ point clearly to the originator but, unlike property rights, cannot be
sold or otherwise assigned (they may be waived). Long established in much of the
175
NOTES TO PAGES 5 4“5 5


rest of Europe (nineteenth century French judges allowed relief for moral rights,
Rose 1993: 18), although foreign to U.S. copyright law, moral rights were introduced
into English law through the U.K. 1988 Copyright, Design and Patent Act.
16. Intellectual property law offers a legal avenue to claims of a potentially economic
nature. What is meant by intellectual? An intellectual property rights system ˜creates
incentives for the accumulation of useful knowledge™ (Swanson 1995: 11); exclusive
property rights depend in turn on the demonstration that the knowledge offers
˜novel information™. Swanson, writing in the context of biodiversity issues, readily
talks of the creation of ˜knowledge™ (also prominent in debates over indigenous
knowledge) where others may stress the protection of ideas. To paraphrase a 1990s
managers™ guide (Irish 1991 ): IP is a general term for different types of ideas protected
by legal rights; the law recognises that the time spent originating new concepts is an
investment that needs protection. Or: ˜Intellectual property is a generic term which
refers to the rights attached to the products of human creativity, including scienti¬c
discoveries, industrial designs, literary and artistic works™ (Tassy and Dambrine 1997:
193). The emphasis on products (particular physical objects as the outcome of effort)
has traditionally dominated the British view. (˜It is often said of modern British
intellectual property law, with its pragmatic and positive heritage, that it is not and
never has been concerned with creativity . . . and that it is more concerned with the
sweat of the brow than the brain™ [Sherman and Bently 1999: 43], a view [as they
suggest] that overlooks early modern concerns with creativity as a process.) (Thanks
to Alain Pottage for drawing this to my attention.)
17. Lone literary authors can, of course, take a collective view, although they may have
in mind a community that comprises audience as well as fellow writers. The ¬rst
paragraph of the U.K. Draft Declaration (n. 18) opens: ˜Academic authors commu-
nicate and share ideas, information, knowledge and results of study and research by
all available means of expression and in all forms. They recognise that participants
in this scholarly communication process include academic editors, publishers and
presentation experts™. A more radical although well-worked theorisation of multiple
authorship is argued through the postmodern text, always a tissue of other texts, as
we are reminded, for example, by Coombe (1998: 284). Rose (1994: viii) notes that
one stimulus for his historical enquiry into the notion of the individual creator, on
which copyright is based, was his experience of the entertainment industry, where
almost all work is both formulaic and corporate.
18. The Draft Declaration states: [3.1.] ˜The legal framework of publishing in an electronic
age must be reevaluated in order to establish a fair balance between the needs of
creators, other rightholders and users™; [1.3.] ˜in particular the needs of the user
community must be taken into account™.
19. I have drawn from before (see Strathern 1999a: 165), and it is one of the starting
points of Strathern (1995). Derek Morgan (see Morgan 1994) originally sent me a
typed report of Anna Johnson v. Mark Calvert et al. (California Supreme Court 1993:
851 P. 2d at 776) and I have since received the printed version from Janet Dolgin. My
thanks to them both.
20. ˜We conclude that although the Act [Uniform Parentage Act, California, 1975] recog-
nizes both genetic consanguinity and giving birth as means of establishing a mother
child relationship, when the two means do not coincide in one woman, she who in-
tended to procreate the child “ that is, she who intended to bring about the birth of
176 NOTES TO PAGES 5 5 “5 9


a child that she intended to raise as her own “ is the natural mother under California
Law™ (California Supreme Court 1993: 851 P.2d at 776).
21. The commentator continued: ˜The mental concept must be recognized as indepen-
dently valuable; it creates expectations in the initiating parents of the child, and it
creates expectations in society for adequate performance on the part of the initia-
tors as parents of the child™ (851 P.2d at 782). Another had argued that reproductive
technology extends ˜af¬rmative intentionality™ and that intentions voluntarily cho-
sen should be determining of legal parenthood. Dolgin (2000) points out that the
doctrine of intent can thus support either a traditional view of the family (it points
to the likelihood of enduring relationships) or a modern view (it suggests choice and
negotiation).
22. Of course the majority had not argued that children were property either; they had
simply talked of the conceivers and prime movers who produced the child and of
the intention implied in the original contract with the surrogate mother (Roberston
1994; Ragon´ 1994). ˜Intending parents™ were covered in model legislation drawn
e
up in 1988, but California had not adopted it, and the case had to be argued afresh
(Morgan 1994).
23. When it is impossible to separate idea from expression because of the limited ways in
which, for example, ideas in a computer programme can be expressed (Bainbridge
1992: 63).
24. And in the case of patents it would also have to be a commercially exploitable
outcome. Apropos the point to follow about copyright, new performers™ rights (after
the 1988 U.K. Act) deal with protecting something that is unique but still copiable
(Arnold 1990).
25. It seems that after relatively stable arrangements in the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries, agitation ¬rst by booksellers and then by writers, in response to a grow-
ing reading public and the possibility of generating income from writing, saw a
new regime developing over the course of the eighteenth century; this was when
copyright in England took its present form. Evidence comes from debates pub-
lished in journals and broadsides and from attempts to pass bills through Parlia-
ment, which did not stop with the famous Statute of Ann in 1710, and from legal
suits.
26. Other ¬gures ˜employed to represent the author™s relation to his writing™ included ˜the
author as singing shepherd, tiller of the soil, vessel of divine inspiration, magician,
and monarch™ (Rose 1993: 38). The following account draws heavily, and gratefully,
on this secondary source.
27. Although there was an enduring identity (propriety) between the author and his
work insofar as the author might be punished for libel or sedition. There was in
any case a general understanding that it was improper to publish an author™s work

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