Genes and the Bioimaginary — the gay gene

Last week I published a review of Genes and the Bioimaginary by Deborah Lynn Steinberg in The Guardian. The book covers a whole range of research about genetics, but one chapter — on the gay gene — particularly grabbed my interest. Below is the first draft of the article I wrote for The Guardian (completely overhauled), which focuses on the gay gene chapter and a debate I’ve had with Dr Qazi Rahman on the issue. Enjoy!


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In a recent response to my article questioning the science of the ‘gay gene’ Dr Qazi Rahman argued that not only is the science of the gene ‘on track’, but that gay, lesbian and bisexuals should embrace it as a way to further LGB rights. As he argued: 

“Finding evidence for a biological basis should not scare us or undermine gay, lesbian and bisexual (LGB) rights (the studies I refer to do not include transgendered individuals, so I’ll confine my comments to lesbian, gay and bisexual people). I would argue that understanding our fundamental biological nature should make us more vigorous in promoting LGB rights.”

I was really happy to see Dr. Rahman’s response and in particular that he engaged with the politics around the gene. While I clearly disagree with Dr. Rahman on the validity of the science I think he misses a key issue. Dr Rahman’s political position is based on the idea that ‘the science is there’ and that it is just up to society to figure out how to deal with it. Science is neutral in the whole process. A recently published book, Genes and the Bioimginary, written by Professor Deborah Lynn Steinberg from the University of Warwick, argues this is not the case.

In Genes and the Bioimaginary Steinberg investigates the cross between genetic research and our society. Steinberg argues that “culture — including science — forms the context, locus and foundation of the search for genes.” In other words, genetic science both shapes culture and is inherently shaped by culture, or as Steinberg explained to me “the popular has infused the scientific even as the scientific has infused the popular.” 

Steinberg makes this argument through a range of informative and interesting case studies, from the search for a ‘criminal’ and a ‘Jewish’ gene to the role of genes in debates about race, gender and even in science fiction. But it is in her chapter on the gay gene that I think she makes her point the best. In doing so it offers a fascinating insight to Dr. Rahman and my debate.

Steinberg starts with the premise that the very search for the gay gene is problematic as it is searching for a biological cause for a cultural construct. This is the exact argument I made in my initial piece. But Steinberg expands on this by arguing the scientific research pointed to by advocates such as Dr. Rahman have been hugely influenced by the way homosexuality is constructed within our culture. 

To do so Steinberg looks at the first key study into the ‘gay gene’, released by Dean Hamer in the journal Science in 1993. For a quick reminder Hamer’s study investigated 40 pairs of self-identified gay brothers, with the team arguing markers on the X chromosome could influence the development of same-sex orientation in men. Look at Hamer’s process however, and we can see particular cultural influences that not only shaped the research but the following debate.

Hamer’s study was conducted in two parts. The first involved creating family trees for the gay men with the aim of identifying other gay relatives. The result showed more relatives on the maternal than the paternal side. From this Hamer inferred a pattern of maternal inheritance, discounting fathers as part of the genetic process. Part two of the study involved an analysis of the DNA of the gay brothers to see if they had inherited genes in common that could, by inference, be linked to their sexuality. It was from this that Hamer concluded that homosexuality could be influenced by markers on the X chromosome — or in other words that there was a gay gene passed down by mothers.

Scientists have criticised Hamers study for not being statistically significant (i.e. there were not enough participants to draw conclusions) but investigating the process opens up new questions. Primarily, Steinberg argues that the process, which focused heavily on maternal markers was based in cultural stereotypes of gay men. As she told me:

“In many different respects the premises of the research were all embedded in pre-existing cultural stereotypes and ideas about gay men and about their relationships with their mothers. They were, in a way, tired tropes. What I was suggesting there is that it’s science from a false premise. The underlying assumptions that organise doing that kind of research were already problematic.”

She expands on this in the book, where she examines the popular reception to Hamer’s study. As Steinberg describes, press reportage at the time took up stereotypes of gay men being inherently connected to their mothers. As she says: 

Maternal influence was understood throughout the ‘gay gene’ reportage as ‘singularly to blame’ for the ostensible compromised masculinity of gay sons. ‘Gay genes’ maternally inherited,  recapitulated tropes of embodied effeminacy  — popular stereotypes of gay men – intrinsically flawed through their direct corporeal links with femaleness’”

We see this play out significantly in the debate about the gay gene. The Born This Way Blog for example, one of my favourite places to visit when researching this issue, is full of childhood photos people have posted in order to ‘prove’ their sexuality is biological. Little camp boys strutting their stuff apparently highlight that not only is homosexuality genetic, but that it equates to an effeminate personality. This is, Steinberg argues, the problematic basis of the search for the gay gene — a cultural influence that opens up significant questions about the direction of the science.

On a side note is it worth asking whether this can provide some answers as to why, as Dr. Rahman notes, scientific research into female, and in particular lesbian, sexuality is virtually non-existent. Gay gene theorists base their science on an understanding of homosexuality as being a uniform, identifiable identity. In doing so they rarely separate gay men from lesbian women — we are all treated as a uniform same. But if the gay gene comes from the maternal side it throws up serious questions if that is the same for lesbian women. How would our standard image of the butch lesbian match with science that argues lesbians comes from mothers? Are we not searching for that because theorists do not want to find an answer?

Back to Steinberg’s research. As I said before Steinberg argues that not only does culture influence genetic science, but that genetic science has had a major influence on our culture. And here again the influence rests heavily on women.

Steinberg explained to me that she began investigating the gay gene to look at what she at first assumed would take the form of a ‘moral panic’ that typified media reportage at that time about gay lives. Thus she was expecting the reportage of the gay gene would result in a broad panic about the very existence of homosexuality. However, that wasn’t the case. Instead we saw what many would consider a more liberal approach — calls for the science not to be used to repress gay people, and in fact, as Dr. Rahman argues to be used to further LGB rights.

But that does not mean the moral panic did not occur — rather, it was directed at elsewhere: at ‘bad scientists’ and, perhaps most importantly, at ‘bad’ women. The release of the Hamer’s study, and every one to follow it, was met with concern that women would start aborting children who were gay, and in turn calls for restrictions on their rights to do so. “Hence,” Steinberg argues in the book, “the call for a ‘gene charter’ which pits gay freedom against women’s choice and reconstitutes gay rights struggle as a corollary of anti-abortion politics.” Across all of the reportage, women were typcially framed both as ‘homogenic’ (they passed along ‘gay genes’) and as  homophobic (the would abort gay pregnancies).

For Steinberg this is not surprising. Harmer’s study came on the heels of the United Kingdom debating legislation on whether to criminalise late abortions, making abortion a key frame for the ‘gay gene’ debate. However, it goes beyond that. In the first chapter of her book Steinberg points out that the disproportionate burden of genetic diagnostic technology has tended to fall on women — and in particular women’s bodies. This is in part because genetic screening on embryos or in pregnancy involve intrusive procedures on women’s bodies.  It makes sense then that women emerged as a preoccupation of debate about the gay gene, where women were seen at one and the same time as ‘responsible’ for gay genes and threat to their continued existence.

Qazi Rahman is right to debate the political implications of the search for a gay gene.

But in doing so we cannot ignore the culture and the politics that lead to, and influence the search in the first place. Doing so opens up even more questions both about the validity of the science, and more importantly about whether we ever want to find a biological cause for homosexuality in the first place. The gay gene has not only reinforced harmful stereotypes used against gay men, but has also been used as a tool to attack the rights of women. That should give us all pause.

Genes and the Bioimaginary: Science, Spectacle, Culture, by Deborah Lynn Steinberg is published by Ashgate http://www.ashgate.com/isbn/9781409462552

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