Between God and the Lab: The Ethical Dilemmas Universities Ignore
A PhD Student’s Moral Dilemma
These were the anguished words of a PhD student. A junior researcher skilled in laboratory protocols, data analysis, and the rigours of academic publishing. Yet, when faced with a critical experiment demanded by reviewers of a career-defining paper—one that involved genetically modifying mice—he found himself wrestling not with technical challenges, but with a profound moral dilemma. His struggle highlights a broader tension in academia: the clash between scientific demands and personal, religious, or ethical convictions.
The Pressure to Publish vs. the Weight of Conscience
In today’s hyper-competitive academic world, publishing in high-impact scholarly journals can make or break a career. For early-career researchers, a single paper in ‘Nature’, ‘Science’, or ‘Cell’ can secure postdoctoral positions, funding, prestige, and ultimately, tenure.
This student had spent three years meticulously testing a novel drug that suppressed a key biological pathway. His work was promising - but one reviewer wanted more: a gene knockout experiment to confirm his pharmacological findings. On the surface, this was a standard request - techniques such as CRISPR-Cas9 are routine in modern biology.
But for him, it was complicated.
“What if this crosses a line?” he confided. “My mum is right—what if I’m tampering with something that shouldn’t be tampered with?”
The Institutional Blind Spot: When Academia Ignores Moral Conflict
One of the most striking aspects of his story was his isolation. When he hesitantly raised his concerns with his supervisor, the response was pragmatic: "This is how science works. You’re the leading author - get on with it.” There was no malice - just the unyielding reality of academic pressure.
Universities hold researchers who publish in high-impact journals in high regard. “I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders,” he admitted. A paper like this could make or break not only his career but also those of his supervisor, lab colleagues and a long list of co-authors from multiple institutes. There is little room for any researcher, let alone a PhD student, to say: “I can’t do this experiment because of my faith.”
This dilemma isn’t unique to Muslim scientists. Researchers from various religious, spiritual and philosophical backgrounds face similar conflicts—whether over embryonic stem cells, animal testing, or AI ethics. Another student I spoke to for this piece was told by his supervisor:
“As a humanist, I support animal research done in a humane and ethical way.” Then, half-jokingly, he added: “In the words of Alastair Campbell (Tony Blair’s strategist) “We don’t do God here!”
The Limits of Research Ethics Training
UK higher education often lacks the flexibility to accommodate deeply personal struggles. While all UK universities mandate ethics in research training, these courses focus narrowly on institutional and UK Home Office compliance, animal welfare, biosafety, and data integrity, rather than personal moral frameworks.
The assumption is that scientists share Anglo-European ethical values — a one-size-fits-all, Western-centric approach. As a London-born academic of African heritage, I challenge that. Our universities are increasingly diverse, yet many researchers still grapple with unacknowledged conflicts over morality in research.
“I ended up chatting to the Imam at my local mosque,” the PhD student told me.
Between Fatwas and Lab Benches: Seeking Guidance
His conversation with the Imam after Friday’s prayer was illuminating but inconclusive. Islamic bioethics, like many religious frameworks, offers no unanimous stance on issues such as genetic engineering. Some Muslim scholars permit therapeutic applications (e.g., correcting disease-causing mutations in humans), but permissibility hinges on intent and consequences. For a junior researcher whose faith shapes his moral compass, the ambiguity was paralysing.
His family and friends cautioned against altering creation (taghyir khalq Allah). "Genetic editing just for a PhD is unnecessary interference," one friend argued. Another, a humanist, joked: “Your research doesn’t alleviate suffering, mate—it creates it. Just ask the mice!”
A Call for Ethical Pluralism in Science
This student’s ordeal reveals the lack of space for ethical diversity in modern academia. Science doesn’t exist in a vacuum - it’s shaped by human values, cultures, spirituality and beliefs. If universities champion diversity, shouldn’t that include ethical diversity?
Some argue science must remain secular and value-neutral. But this is a false dichotomy. Engaging with ethical, religious, and philosophical perspectives doesn’t weaken science, it strengthens it. The current biggest scientific debates, from climate change to AI ethics, aren’t just about data but the kind of world we want to build.
Universities are not alone in this. The world of scientific publishing rarely acknowledges these nuances. Peer reviewers assess novelty, methodology, validity, and quality - not moral justification. Funding bodies prioritise innovation and patient needs, not ethical introspection. In short, modern academia rewards boundary-pushers, not those who pause to question them.
Thus, I urge universities, funding bodies, and publishers to:
Involve Humanities Scholars: They can identify blind spots in our approach to faith and morality in research and craft modules on moral education that speak to our common humanity.
Diversify Ethics Committees: Include religious scholars where relevant.
Introduce Mentorship Programs: Allow students to discuss moral conflicts without professional backlash.
Educate staff on alternative methods: Ensure researchers aren’t forced into techniques that violate their principles.
Science With a Soul
This story is a reminder that science isn’t just about discovery—it’s about humanity too. For Muslim scientists and others navigating faith and research, the challenge is to make it in academia without compromising integrity. Modern academia must recognise that the best science isn’t just “innovative” and “rigorous”, it’s also reflective.
And sometimes, the most important experiment is the one we choose not to do.
A version of this article was originally published in The Humanist Magazine