How much of our identity is shaped by genetics, and how much by society? In Where Biology Ends and Bias Begins, Shoumita Dasgupta examines how genetic science can be distorted by social biases in areas from race to disability to gender. Dasgupta makes a timely and rigorously researched contribution to debates around genetics, invisible biases and identity formation, writes Santosh Kumar.
To what extent are our identities shaped by genetics compared to our social environments? Is the science around this reliable, or has it been influenced by the biases and power imbalances – both overt and covert – that structure our societies? Such questions have long intrigued researchers and societies more generally, and they are taken up afresh in a recent book by Shoumita Dasgupta, Where Biology Ends and Bias Begins. Dasgupta undertakes an ambitious project: disentangling the legitimate findings of biological and genetic sciences from the deeply embedded social biases that usually distort their interpretation. The book makes a critical intervention against genetic essentialism – the belief that complex human attributes, including race, gender, and identity, can be reduced to simple genetic determinants (5-6).
The book explicitly engages with the standpoints of individuals from marginalised groups, ensuring that scientific discussions do not misrepresent or erase lived experiences.
By adopting an interdisciplinary perspective that includes anthropology, sociology, psychology, law, and ethics, Dasgupta, being a geneticist, presents a strong case against the use and misuse of genetic science in justifying social hierarchies (5). She advocates for a bottom-up approach based on confronting privilege, as highlighted by Ratheesh Kumar. The study of the relationship between biology and bias would have been more enriched if she had incorporated the “interdisciplinary conversation and collaboration” suggested by Ruth Müller and Martyn Pickersgill, as well as by Gita Chadda and Renny Thomas. The author’s commitment to ethical considerations and inclusive language is commendable. The book explicitly engages with the standpoints of individuals from marginalised groups, ensuring that scientific discussions do not misrepresent or erase lived experiences.
The book is divided into four parts. Part I broadly outlines what science tells us by exposing the flawed premise of genetic essentialism and exploring the biology of human populations – race, ethnicity, gender, disability, and more. Parts II and III further the discussion by focusing on history and policy, as well as genetics in science and medicine, respectively. Finally, Part IV invites readers to take shared responsibility and answers a call to action. Part I’s significant contribution is its critique of genetic essentialism. Dasgupta defines “Genetic essentialism as a reductive view that equates one’s genetic code with one’s individual traits, nature, or identity” (16). The book convincingly argues that such beliefs not only obscure the complexity of genetic expression but also reinforce social biases by lending them a facade of scientific legitimacy. She delineates how deterministic thinking can validate stereotypes and perpetuate structural discrimination. The debate on the naturalistic fallacy – the erroneous assumption that what is “natural” is socially or morally inevitable – is particularly insightful in highlighting the dangers of genetic determinism, a concern extensively discussed by Maurizio Meloni (18).
Further, by discussing historical examples of scientific racism (172), Dasgupta demonstrates how genetic essentialism has historically been used to justify racial hierarchies, underscoring the necessity of a more nuanced approach to understanding human difference. She compellingly explores the link between genetic science and social identity, echoing Sonja van Wichelen’s arguments. By deconstructing the biological determinism underlying racial categorisation, she emphasises that race is a social construct with no fixed genetic basis (24).
The discussion extends to sex and gender, highlighting the tensions that arise when biological and social classifications conflict. Dasgupta challenges the binary model of gender and sex, aligning with Judith Butler’s argument, emphasising the spectrum and fluidity of both social and biological identities. Moreover, she highlights the socio-political implications of these biological realities, contending that fixed gender classifications contribute to systemic marginalisation. She further examines the biology of pregnancy by critiquing its medicalisation, echoing Zairu Nisha’s claim that biomedical narratives usually pathologise pregnancy, portraying it as a condition necessitating medical intervention rather than a diverse and natural human experience. This discussion aligns with broader feminist science studies of reproductive health, as exemplified by Evelyn Fox Keller’s work, which scrutinises how biological language and medical discourses reinforce gendered power dynamics and constrain bodily autonomy.
Similarly, her engagement with disability studies is remarkable. It problematises the notion that disability is solely a biological deficiency, instead emphasising the role of environmental and social factors in shaping disabled individuals’ experiences, reflecting Anita Ghai’s perspective. By adopting a social model of disability, Dasgupta critiques the assumption that medical and genetic interventions are the primary solutions to disability, advocating instead for structural changes that enhance inclusivity and accessibility.
The book is a rigorous and thought-provoking work, though there are areas that could benefit from further elaboration. For instance, the author discusses a vast range of topics – including race, ethnicity, sex and gender, pregnancy, and disability – within the limited pages of a single book. But the title of the book itself is not neutral in the sense that it asks the question: where does biology end and bias begin? Why is biology alone presumed to address bias? In my understanding, bias is a broader concept and is not necessarily confined to biology as a discipline.
In an era where genetic discourse is increasingly shaping public perceptions of identity, Dasgupta emphasises a crucial reminder that biology is never neutral.
Science Technology studies (STS) scholars, including Sandra Harding and Donna Haraway, argue that incorporating a positive gender bias – or at least acknowledging the role of gender – can contribute to making biological knowledge more strongly objective. While the book excels in offering a limited critique of Western scientific paradigms, particularly in biology, it could incorporate more perspectives from non-Western epistemologies. The author appears to advocate biological ways of knowing and, in the process, privileges the biological episteme. J. P. S. Uberoi, Ashis Nandy, Harish Naraindas, and V. Sujatha advocating alternative and decolonial frameworks to biology, offer valuable perspectives that challenge the dominance of biomedicine. Including these views would further enrich the book’s analysis and reinforce its commitment to dismantling scientific hierarchies.
The book is a timely contribution to ongoing debates surrounding genetics and identity. In an era where genetic discourse is increasingly shaping public perceptions of identity, Dasgupta emphasises a crucial reminder that biology is never neutral.
Note: This review gives the views of the author and not the position of the LSE Review of Books blog, nor of the London School of Economics and Political Science.
Image: Dmitry Naumov on Shutterstock.
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