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THE REVIEW OF COMMUNICATION
1 (2001): 215-218
© 2001 National Communication Association

Genetic Rhetoric

Robert Alan Brookey

Celeste Michelle Condit. The Meanings of the Gene: Public Debates about Human Heredity. Madison, WI: The University of Wisconsin Press, 1999. xvi + 325 pages. $49.95 (cloth); $19.95 (paper).

While I was still a student at the University of Minnesota, a new biomedical engineering building was constructed. The building was a state-of-the-art facility that combined function with architectural form, and centered on an impressive multi-story atrium. For the building’s dedication, this atrium was filled with a large sculpture of the DNA double helix, rendered in brightly colored balloons. At the time I thought it was hysterically tacky. Now that I have some critical distance, I still think the balloon sculpture was hysterically tacky, but I can also see how it was a bit profound, for it seemed to reflect the ambivalence with which our culture regards the human gene. On one hand we imagine the gene, and the possible power it might exert, with a sense of awe. On the other hand, we have a strong desire to harness that power and control what we fear might control us. Perhaps it is appropriate to represent that ambivalence with a multi-storied structure that towers above us, but is constructed of something that is simple and comprehensible: balloons, the simplest of children’s toys.

This ambivalence about genetics is not new, and Celeste Condit’s The Meanings of the Gene provides an extensive and insightful investigation into its history.  Although much has been written about the social impact of genetic research, by individuals both inside and outside of the academy, most of this writing has been polarized by either skeptical or romantic notions of scientific advancement. Condit positions herself somewhere in the middle of these poles, arguing that an extensive examination of the public discourse on genetic research reveals that both the critics and champions of science have overstated their case.

Condit supports her argument by combining qualitative and quantitative methods, and her investigation is very broad in its temporal scope (she analyzes discourse from 1900 to 1995). She randomly sampled reports on genetics that appeared in magazines, newspapers, television news programs, and the Congressional Record. This random sample was then coded using the methods of content analysis.  From this analysis, Condit isolates several “rhetorical formations” that identify specific temporal periods in which the public discourse about genetics is shaped by particular metaphors, narratives, and values. She approaches these periods chronologically, beginning with the “Classical Eugenics” period at the start of the twentieth century and concluding with the period of “Genetic Medicine” that closed the century. In examining these periods, and the periods in between, Condit covers a significant amount of scientific and social terrain.

In the period of “Genetic Experimentation,” for example, Condit argues that the discovery of the DNA structure by James Watson and Francis Crick not only changed the way scientists studied genetics, but also changed the way the public discourse treated the subject. The DNA structure introduced a new metaphor for genetic heredity: the “genetic code.” As Condit explains, in contrast to some of the metaphors that preceded it (the “stock breeding” metaphor, the “atomistic gene”), the “genetic code” allowed heredity to be conceptualized in less deterministic ways. A code could be deciphered, rewritten, and in cases where part of the code was missing, replaced. Furthermore, popular discourse suggested human potential could be expanded beyond the genetic code. Or, as Condit observes, the coding metaphor accommodated “the view that individual initiative and appropriate social structures could rewrite the individual from the starting point provided by the gene” (105).

Condit’s careful attention to the impact of metaphor is the critical expression of her general purpose. In her introduction she outlines three concerns about genetic research: that genetic research leads to biological determinism, that biological determinism leads to discrimination, and that the threat of discrimination will lead to the genetic programming of children. Condit argues that these concerns have created an orthodoxy among genetic critics, so that scholarly writing about the social impact of genetics has seldom questioned the validity of these concerns. In contrast, Condit’s analysis shows that these concerns are not stable, but vary in importance in relation to the temporal periods of genetic research and the metaphors embraced in the popular discourse. Furthermore, her analysis shows that in certain periods some of these concerns recede while others remain or become more prominent. The “genetic code,” for example, diminished concerns about genetic determinism because it allowed for the possibility of working with the genetic “language.” On the other hand, the ability to work with the code emphasized concerns about manipulating the genes of children.

The heart of Condit’s critique becomes most apparent in her concluding chapter, where she engages some of the thorny ethical questions surrounding genetic research.  She begins the chapter by observing that the public discourse about genetic research does not necessarily reflect the determinism and perfectionism that many critics have predicted. Instead, she argues that the contemporary discourse on the human genome project has produced a vision of the gene as part of a holistic, integrated system. She warns, however, that although this holistic vision may seem less deterministic, it does not automatically lead to progressive political policy. Indeed, Condit maintains that the meaning of the gene, in any discursive context, is contingent on the social values that are available. For example, she observes that, “deep down, too many geneticists believe that it is only their genes, and not all their social privilege that makes them smart and successful. Perhaps, however, it is simply that at some inchoate level geneticists have believed the conservative claims that the only story about genetics which makes genetics interesting and important is the one that proclaims that genes validate existing social classes and categories” (215).

Condit does not offer this observation for the obvious conclusion that geneticists are people, too. Rather, she argues that there are alternative stories to be told about genetics. One of the stories that Condit believes should be told reveals the “multipotentiality of human genetic configurations and the . . . variability of those configurations” (228).  However, this story will not be told unless it is pursued in the lab (as she notes, nature cannot answer questions that are never asked) and in the media. For example, Condit claims that introducing the concept of the “allele” could correct some of the oversimplification of genetic conditions, but that members of the press may believe the concept too complex for the public’s imagination.

Condit’s view of the public is not quite so jaundiced, and she concludes that when it comes to making the gene “mean,” our society, through channels of public discourse, has a great deal of agency. In other words, we as a society can decide what genes mean and what they can do for us. We can use them to justify discrimination, eliminate social welfare, or deny employment, or we can use our understanding of genetics to cure disease, isolate detrimental social and environmental conditions, and illustrate that prejudice is nothing more than an artifice. The knowledge of genetics, like so many other forms of knowledge, carries with it a responsibility, and society has a role in determining how that responsibility will be carried out. It would seem that Condit is ultimately challenging us to acknowledge our responsibility and our agency. Although the gene and its meanings may seem overwhelming, Condit suggests that they are not beyond our comprehension.

A few years ago, in an issue of Communication Studies, Condit published a small sample of her project that she offered as proof that rhetorical criticism, as a method, proceeds with an analytic caution that is absent in other critical approaches. At the time I was not completely convinced by Condit’s case, and said so, nicely. Now Condit can count me among the converted. What is remarkable about Condit’s book is how she is able to weave together qualitative and quantitative methods to construct an argument that is airtight. Her investigative skill makes this an important book for those who study and practice rhetorical methods. But the importance of the subject and Condit’s treatment make this a necessary read for anyone who is interested in the impact of advancing bio-medical technologies. In fact, The Meanings of the Gene is a convincing argument that we should all be interested in these technologies.

Robert Alan Brookey teaches at Arizona State University.