Madam Zahid, Monsieur Blanchette-Joncas, and members of the Standing Committee on Science and Research, as a proud Canadian and graduate of Dawson College and McGill University, it's a tremendous honour to speak to you today about diversity in science.
Starting in the late 1970s, the concept of diversity became popular in the United States after the Supreme Court ruled that explicit racial quotas in university admissions were a form of unconstitutional discrimination, but that it was acceptable for schools to favour minority students if the goal was to enhance the educational experience of all students by having a diverse student body. Over time, the laudable goal of diversity morphed into policies that increasingly used race and sex as criteria in admissions, hiring and funding. That was the “D” in DEI, or EDI.
More recently, the term “viewpoint diversity” became popular as an ironic response to racial and gender diversity. The joke went that in a university, “diversity” means people who look different and think alike; viewpoint diversity, in contrast, is the form of diversity that really matters in scientific and intellectual life. It is simply not true—indeed, one might say it is a form of prejudice—to assume that all women or all members of a racial or ethnic minority think in a particular way.
A diversity of viewpoints, though, is necessary to do science properly. This is not because diversity is aesthetically pleasing; it's because people are not omniscient or infallible. As a cognitive scientist, I can attest that the human mind is vulnerable to many biases and fallacies. The strongest is the “myside” bias, the conviction that my own tribe, coalition or party is correct and that a rival coalition is ignorant or evil or both. People are poor at spotting their own biases. As the economist Joan Robinson put it, “Ideology is like breath. You never smell your own.”
The reason that science can proceed despite these blind spots is that we're much better at spotting someone else's biases. In a community in which people with different viewpoints can criticize those they disagree with without fear of punishment, censorship or cancellation, one person can point out another's errors, and the whole community can be more rational than any of the individuals in it.
In contrast, there are several reasons to fear that diversity, in the DEI sense of allocating funding to scientists based on their race or sex, works against the interests of science and the nation.
First, it can be inherently unfair. Funding is a zero-sum game. If people of one sex or skin colour are given an advantage, then others of a different sex or skin colour are being put at a disadvantage. This was the reason that my own institution lost another famous Supreme Court case, Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President and Fellows of Harvard College, in 2023. The court ruled that in favouring Hispanics and African Americans in admissions, Harvard was unconstitutionally discriminating against Asian Americans.
Second, it can be a waste of taxpayer money if grant dollars don't go to the scientific research that is judged to be of the highest quality and priority. Of course, reviewers of grant proposals are themselves subject to biases, including racism and sexism, but this means that the biases themselves should be minimized through blind review, audits and the most objective measures of quality and influence we can find.
Third, while it's laudable to attract the widest range of talent in science and to overcome past barriers to inclusion, the awarding of grants takes place at the end of the science training pipeline, far too late in a person's life to rectify social and historical inequities. Obsessing over statistical differences in the awarding of research grants draws attention away from formative influences that create inequities in the first place, including education from the preschool years through university as well as social and cultural norms that make science attractive as a career.
Finally, the promotion of diversity in gender and ethnicity at the same time that diversity in opinion is constricted by censorship, cancellation or intellectual monocultures undermines public trust in science. I often mention to audiences or interviewers that the massive scientific consensus is that human activity is warming the planet. Many times a listener has replied, “But why should we trust the consensus if it comes from a clique that does not favour the best science and that punishes anyone who disagrees with the orthodoxy?”
Recent events in the United States—with which, I'm guessing, you're familiar—illustrate the dangers that can result when politicians and the public lose trust in science.