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Advances in Medicine often require innovation in ethical thinking too0

 

Nik Zeps and Tanya Symons
AHRECS Consultant

Breakthroughs in medicine often highlight the existing limitations of the frameworks established to manage the ethical responsibilities arising in healthcare. The contraceptive pill, organ transplantation, assisted reproductive technology, gene therapy and more recently gene editing are notable examples that have stimulated major debates and, in several instances, prompted changes to not only ethical guidelines but also legislation. However, there are also more subtle ethical issues that arise from doing established activities in a different context or scale. Think of so-called Big Data applied to health care or to uses of machine-based learning which promise to revolutionize practice but are really just larger scale applications of business as usual using more sophisticated technology than before. One result of these two developments is the amassing of personal data online which coupled with improvements in reidentification techniques present challenges to how we manage the privacy of individuals.  These have prompted amendments in regulation that facilitate the use of personal data whilst also strengthening protections for individuals (link to GDPR).

Less well known, are changes in the way we evaluate existing healthcare practices to ensure they are truly safe, effective and economical.  One such example is the increasing focus on Comparative Effectiveness Research (CER). These studies compare two or more existing practices that are in widespread use and have been found safe and efficacious. CER is an extension of audit/QI practices in that it uses clinical trial methodology and the power of randomisation to remove the biases inherent in the observed outcomes in a population of non-randomised patients receiving a particular health service. These studies generally include large numbers of patients (sometimes several thousand) so that they can detect differences between the interventions that, while relatively small, can nonetheless be clinically meaningful at a population level.

There is an over-riding ethical need to do this work constantly within what can be termed a ‘learning healthcare system’ 1.  Conceptually this means that every single instance that a person interacts with the health system should be captured in a manner in which it can be evaluated to make sure that optimal care is provided. Both patients and health system leaders expect this to be happening and yet in truth, the lack of standardisation in data capture, storage and interoperability means that few do this efficiently and effectively as part of routine healthcare activity. Moreover, existing research ethics frameworks impede the integration of healthcare and research by failing to recognise the differences between studies that involve standard care treatments from studies testing novel interventions with unknown safety profiles.  One example is the requirement to apply to comparative effectiveness studies informed consent processes that differ so greatly from routine consent to treatment they are impossible to integrate into routine clinical workflows.

In a recent paper, (Symons et al 2) we have considered whether approaches that utilise modified consent pathways for CER are permissible from an ethical and regulatory perspective. In an accompanying editorial 3Dr Evan Kharasch challenges the readers of the journal to consider how the existing ethical and legal frameworks can be complied with for trials where the risk of harm is small. There is a perception that as soon as a study employs randomisation it becomes more than low risk when this may not, in fact, be true. It is also important to consider the ethical issues that arise when this type of ‘public good’ trial is simply not done because using consent processes suitable for interventional trials of unapproved therapeutics makes them impracticable. If indeed a particular treatment is less effective or causes more harm and we continue to use it because we consider that currently required ethics processes render them impracticable, then those processes have led to potentially unethical outcomes.

To achieve the best healthcare outcomes, greater sophistication of thought is needed at the ethics committee level. It also seems obvious that greater engagement with consumers is a necessary and relevant pathway to designing and conducting trials that deliver on expectations. The Australian Clinical Trials Alliance (ACTA) together with the Trials Clinical Trials: Impact & Quality (CT:IQ) have developed a consumer involvement and engagement toolkit that serves this purpose [1]. By working more closely together and encouraging more flexible and contemporary approaches to research ethics compliance, we can achieve the ideal of encouraging and supporting clinicians and health services to undertake continuous improvements to health services using the best methodologies to achieve this for the benefit of the community they serve.

References

1          Faden, R. R. et al. An ethics framework for a learning health care system: a departure from traditional research ethics and clinical ethics. Hastings Cent Rep Spec No, S16-27, doi:10.1002/hast.134 (2013).

2          Symons, T. J., Zeps, N., Myles, P. S., Morris, J. M. & Sessler, D. I. International Policy Frameworks for Consent in Minimal-risk Pragmatic Trials. Anesthesiology 132, 44-54, doi:10.1097/ALN.0000000000003020 (2020).

3          Kharasch, E. D. Innovation in Clinical Research Regulation. Anesthesiology 132, 1-4, doi:10.1097/ALN.0000000000003026 (2020).

[1] https://involvementtoolkit.clinicaltrialsalliance.org.au/

This post may be cited as:

Zeps, N. (22 December 2019) Advances in Medicine often require innovation in ethical thinking too. Research Ethics Monthly. Retrieved from: https://ahrecs.com/human-research-ethics/advances-in-medicine-often-require-innovation-in-ethical-thinking-too-2

It’s the hand you’re dealt: Copyright card games and publishing board games are in!0

Posted by Admin in Research Integrity on December 21, 2019 / Keywords: , , ,
 

Nerida Quatermass | University Copyright Officer | Project Manager, Creative Commons Australia at Queensland University of Technology

As a university copyright officer, I provide copyright information for research and scholarly communication – from ethics applications to publication.

What’s up, Doc?

Copyright questions can often be a manifestation of a larger issue than copyright. For example, a question about the mining or use of Twitter posts while involving third party copyright is also a matter of contract – what use of content is allowed under platform terms. Alternatively, the question might be about copyright, but it’s one where the law doesn’t provide the answer – does the scope of the fair dealing for research exception extend to publication? These types of enquiries illustrate that researchers need to understand copyright and a range of related issues relevant to research and communication.]

Myth-busting

Couple these uncertainties with the fact that there is no harmony in copyright laws between jurisdictions in a global research and communication community, and it means there are sure to be some persistent copyright myths to de-bunk in order to understand what is allowed. For example, the concept of “fair use” of copyright is well known globally and researchers in Australia often ask if the use they want to make of third-party copyright is a “fair use”. They are not aware that they cannot rely on it in Australia and are not generally aware of the “fair dealing” provisions that are available to them. Misinformation combined with limited confident knowledge about re-use rights leave researchers confused and anxious about copyright matters.

Back to basics

The savvy 21st century researcher needs some basic copyright knowledge to feel confident to manage their own copyright, their use of third-party copyright, and related publication matters. Researchers have always been required by traditional publishers to manage copyright, but today funder and institutional requirements for Open Access require a level of knowledge about open licensing and the effect of a Creative Commons licence on communication and reuse.\

Out with the old

Copyright is a pretty dry topic. At Queensland University of Technology, within the Research Support Team I am a member of, a wide range of copyright guidance is available including self-help, workshop and direct enquiry. When we “teach” in traditional workshops I am not confident that transferrable learning occurs in a way that will enable future decision making. In part, I put this down to a lack of engagement in traditionally-delivered workshops and seminars.

Making a game of it

Game play has benefits to adult learning, and this is a direction that copyright education has gone in. The UK Copyright Literacy organisation mantra is “decoding copyright and bringing you enlightenment”. Jane Secker and Chris Morrison (2016) have led the way by creating games which are played in workshops. They have found that the interactivity of a games situation engages learners in training, but is also a drawcard to attend.  Chris and Jane have created two games: Copyright the Card Game which teaches the basics of copyright law and application; and The Publishing Trap which facilitates informed decision making for the research lifecycle including IP and copyright.  Following suit and inspired by this, Tohatoha – Aotearoa New Zealand’s peak open advocacy body have released Creative Commons Release ‘Em Poker – a poker style card game about Creative Commons licensing. This game is correct for all jurisdictions because CC licences are global.

Back to the thorn that is jurisdictional copyright, this year I worked with the Australian Libraries Copyright Committee and a number of librarians to localise Copyright the Card Game to Australian copyright law. The resulting Copyright the Card Came: Australian Edition is correct for Australian law; and it has an Australian look and feel to it.

The proof is in the pudding

This year, Australian librarians and copyright officers have played Copyright the Card Came: Australian Edition in workshops, and professional development programs and at conferences. The feedback has been very positive. The interactive environment and scenario-based play is a positive contribution to learning which has made the copyright workshop a much more enjoyable prospect for teachers and learners.

If you are interested in playing, ask your librarian or copyright officer if they can organise it. Alternatively, all the resources including the card deck and workshop presentation are available online.

A beautiful deck of Creative Commons Release ‘Em Poker cards can be purchased online. Copyright: The Card Game and The Publishing Trap resources can be printed from the websites below.

Copyright the Card Came: Australian Edition

Creative Commons Release ‘Em Poker

The Publishing Trap

Reference

Secker, Jane and Morrison, Chris (2016) Copyright education and training. In: Copyright and E-learning: a Guide for Practitioners. Facet Publishing, London, UK, pp. 211-238. http://eprints.lse.ac.uk/67926/1/Secker_Copyright%20education_2016.pdf

This post may be cited as:

Quatermass, N. (21 December 2019) It’s the hand you’re dealt: Copyright card games and publishing board games are in! Research Ethics Monthly. Retrieved from: https://ahrecs.com/research-integrity/its-the-hand-youre-dealt-copyright-card-games-and-publishing-board-games-are-inhttps://ahrecs.com/research-integrity/its-the-hand-youre-dealt-copyright-card-games-and-publishing-board-games-are-in

A preliminary geneaology of research ethics review and Māori0

 

Lindsey Te Ata o Tu MacDonald
AHRECS, Consultant
  

In New Zealand, we have two separate drivers for change in research ethics for working with Māori.  The first are the institutional responses to the legal requirements of government institutions to accord justice to the principles of the Treaty of Waitangi (see Te Puni Kokiri, 2001). The second arise where Māori scholars have pulled on practices and ideas within their iwi and hapū to develop a Māori centred research philosophy, that in turn has created a distinctively Māori research ethics.

I made this argument at a recent conference, in a paper to honour the late Barry Smith. Barry, in reviewing ethics applications and creating ethics policy could articulate how to negotiate both with his usual insight, grace and wit and aloha. Without him to drive developments we must think carefully about how to follow his example of synthesising the best of ethical approaches to advance Māori wellbeing and rangatiratanga (roughly translated as indigenous self-determination, see Durie, 1988).

So what is the history of research ethics approaches to research with Māori? First, the radical 1984 Labour government’s privatisation agenda enshrined ‘the principles of the Treaty of Wāitangi’ that put in critical pieces of legislation to ensure continued Māori support. The first, and most important of these Treaty clauses was in section 9 of the 1986 State-Owned Enterprise Act.

s9 nothing in the Act permitted the Crown to act in a manner that was inconsistent with the principles of the Treaty of Wāitangi.

When the government inevitably breached this section, a judicial review case allowed the Court of Appeal (at the time New Zealand’s highest court) to set out its view of the relationship between the Crown and Māori. (New Zealand Māori Council v Attorney-General 1 NZLR 641, (1987) 6 NZAR 353). Later cases set out that consultation had to be conducted with an open mind, and Māori were to be given complete information about the subject. Wellington International Airport Ltd v Air NZ [1991] 1 NZLR 671 (Court of Appeal)

The case indicated that the courts expected any government institution (with a Treaty clause in its enabling legislation) to ‘consult’ – to the satisfaction of a court – with Māori individuals and groups who may be affected by its policies or practices. So all government agencies have since been on notice that they must consult with Māori fully on decisions that might affect Māori, and not to do so could lead to a judicial review of their decision-making by a court. Moreover, any Māori individual could also ask the Wāitangi Tribunal (an ongoing political commission of inquiry into Treaty breaches) to review a government action or inaction which breached the principles of the Treaty of Wāitangi.

Due to these incentives, government agencies got into the practice of consulting with Māori organisations on anything that might be of interest or affect Māori. So both the health sector ethics committees and the University ethics committees developed policies that asked applicants to demonstrate they had ‘consulted’ with Māori.

At the same time, a more humane approach to Māori research ethics was also being developed – it arose from Māori scholars grappling with how to inject Te Ao Māori (literally, the Māori world) into the systems around them. Models included, Te Whare Tapa Whā (Durie, 1984), The Meihana model (Pitama, 2007) and the Hui model (Lacey, 2011), to name but a few. In all of these models, there is a wealth of indigenous knowledge that is also discussed beautifully in Te Ara Tika (Smith, 2010), a guide to reviewing research involving Māori, that arose from Barry’s concerns around gaps in knowledge about Māori and research ethics.

So there is an objective legal risk driving consultation with Māori over research on the one hand, and on the other, a philosophically normative Māori centred ethics, drawn from a Māori-centric approach. They can sit awkwardly together for researchers and reviewers. For instance, the two approaches are often combined as though they are one – so that researchers are left thinking they are legally required to adopt Māori normative ethics prescribed in the scholarly models of Māori research, and so do not listen to the tikanga (protocols) of the local community with whom they are researching. Alternatively, researchers may comply with the spirit of the law and do consultation – but as the government has proved time and time again; meeting the judicial test for consultation can still leave many feeling deeply unheard.

This leaves non-Māori, and I have seen this as a Māori research consultant for my University, in what Tolich called, ‘Pakeha [non-Māori] Paralysis’ – that is, paralysed by Māori concerns and thus avoiding doing research with Māori. Indeed I have counselled academics to avoid Māori centred research because they do not have skills to do it.

The deeper problem is that non-Māori researchers don’t have the resources to research appropriately with Māori. And Māori don’t, and should not have to have the capacity to serve the needs of non-Māori researchers.

I have pointed out the incentives for ethics review for Māori because I believe they can show us how to solve the problem. The law states that ethics reviewers must take seriously the voices of Māori in the research, but taking that seriously is not to follow the dictates of legal cases about consultation – those cases were decided about events unrelated to research or ethics. Nor must ethics committees think particular Māori philosophies of research must apply, since there are many more communities that have their own philosophies, and it is those local philosophies that should be privileged.

If we look to the underlying principles of both Māori research principles and legal cases, they combine to suggest we must take seriously the idea that research engages with Māori when it takes seriously the voices of the communities and participants involved in, or around the research. That is, the researchers should be seeking and assisting Māori voices to be heard in the research, if those Māori communities and individuals wish to be heard. To meet the legal needs, and to ensure Māori are given rangatiratanga, I suggest the appropriate question for a researcher to ask themselves (or be asked by the review committee) is ‘how are you making it possible for the Māori individuals and communities to communicate and participate with you in the project should they wish?

References

Durie, M. (1998). Te Mana Te Kawanatanga: The politics of Maori self-determination. Auckland; New York: Oxford University Press.

Durie, M. (2001). Mauri Ora: The Dynamics of Māori Health.

Pitama, S., Robertson, P., Cram, F., Gillies, M., Huria, T., & dallas-katoa, W. (2007). Meihana Model: A Clinical Assessment Framework. New Zealand Journal of Psychology, 36.

Lacey, C., Huria, T. B.,Lutz, & Gilles, M. P., Suzanne. (2011). The Hui Process: a framework to enhance the doctor–patient relationship with Māori. New Zealand Medical Journal, 124(1347).

Smith, B., Reynolds, P., Russell, K.,& et.al. (2010). TE ARA TIKA Guidelines for Māori Research Ethics : A framework for researchers and ethics committee members. Health Research Council of New Zealand.

Te Puni KokirI (Ministry or Māori Development) (2001) He tirohanga o kawa ki te Tiriti o Waitangi: A guide to the principles of the Treaty of Waitangi as expressed by the Courts and the Waitangi Tribunal. Wellington, N.Z.: https://www.tpk.govt.nz/documents/download/179/tpk-treatyprinciples-2001-en.pdf

Tolich, M. (2002). Pakeha” paralysis”: Cultural safety for those researching the general population of Aotearoa. Social Policy Journal of New Zealand, 164-178.

For a good guide to the history and impact of Treaty clauses in legislation see
Palmer, M. (2008). The Treaty of Waitangi in New Zealand’s law and constitution. Wellington [N.Z.]: Victoria University Press.

This post may be cited as:

Te Ata o Tu MacDonald, L. (4 December 2019) A preliminary geneaology of research ethics review and Māori. Research Ethics Monthly. Retrieved from: https://ahrecs.com/human-research-ethics/a-preliminary-geneaology-of-research-ethics-review-and-maori

Clergy service to HRECs: the useful paradox within secular governance of research involving human participants0

 

Aviva Kipen, Union for Progressive Judaism and Progressive Judaism Victoria.

In 2015, I earned a Doctor of Ministry Studies degree from the University of Divinity in Melbourne. The thesis, investigating how 13 Christian and Jewish clergy experienced HREC service in their pastoral care roles, arose from my own human research ethics committee and Victorian Biotechnologies Ethics Advisory Committee service and extensive interfaith work. I had been mentored into my service to the Monash University HREC by the Rev’d Dr Judy Redman, the then Victorian Uniting Church Outreach Ministries Coordinator. I found myself in the company of Anglican clergy and had succeeded Catholics – nuns and priests – Buddhist monks and also male rabbis who had served before me. Joining Judy, the serving female minister, made the gender issue less remarkable than it might otherwise have been, even in the late 1990s. The faith interchanges on succession raised my immediate curiosity that would later lead to the research question and the project on which this piece draws.

The then National Guidelines were clear: we clergy appointees were not there to push our own denominational barrows. Still, I became curious about what was really going on in the minds of others who served HRECs interchangeably from a range of faiths and traditions regardless of often-irreconcilable theologies in the ‘pastoral chairs’. My interfaith work meant I was confident that, in the event of content matters being beyond my own repertoire, I would have an extensive network from which to seek expert guidance if asked to do so. But HREC appointment provides an opportunity to serve far beyond the specifics of faith content occasionally referenced in research applications.

I became aware that the recruitment of ‘the pastor’ in other committees was not always simple. I had been spotted at a meeting about chaplaincy in women’s prisons! How had others been identified and invited to join committees? What constituted their self-understanding of the ministry service being gifted to the committees they served? Would my interviews disclose any kind of ‘evangelism by stealth’?  Did faiths or denominations target access to committees assessing large amounts politically/theologically/ethically sensitive, kinds of research?

I discovered no documents showing the means by which the Catholic Church became an early adopter of the opportunity to be represented, but clearly there were Catholic clergy leading the discussion in the early years. My research showed great diversity within the voices of the Christian ministers. Even within denominations, including between current serving Catholics, there was diversity of expression on ground-breaking issues. It became clear that the one participant who asserted his role as being to represent the Catholic position, was the exceptional Catholic voice. Other Catholics applied the provisions of the current National Statement informed by their own faith understanding, but with broad appreciation for other communities’ concerns.

Many clergy enjoyed the intellectual effort of meeting preparation and assessing applications, perhaps indicating a somewhat obsessive character trait. The rigor of disciplined meetings, the collegiality with co-assessors and committee colleagues was experienced by many as a valued counterweight to congregational demands. When appointed, some experienced a bit of resistance and some took a gentle ribbing. But as they became known and trusted on their merits and performance, tenures were frequently extended. There was some inference that if individuals had theologies unable to embrace the content or methodologies required in assessing projects, it would be unlikely that they would find their way onto committees. A few references to short tenures alluded to non-renewal of clergy who were not a good fit.

The diversity of appointments reflects the neighbourhoods/communities served by HRECs and is appropriately representative of our national diversity. One participant was from a highly conservative evangelical denomination. The interview triggered deeply thoughtful reaction about personal identity relative to the HREC work. I would later find out that the reflection resulted in some major theological grappling as a consequence of the conversation. Regardless of denomination, interviewees found themselves intrigued by the attention my investigation was bringing to HREC clergy/pastoral work, which had almost invariably been out of the faiths’ hierarchical spotlights. Most remained entirely grateful for the freedom to do the HREC work without such attention.

One pastor described choosing not to participate in a committee discussion because he was aware his personal knowledge was not sufficient. It was a frank admission. The example begs the question of how applications need to enable comprehension and how lay and other non-disciplinary experts are enabled in their roles. Others found solutions to specific matters of dogma by offering wordings that would provide enough cues to the faith’s adherents to ensure they were going to be able to make informed choices without imperilling projects. What emerged was that clergy were clear about their denominational obligations and the tension between them and the needs of others in the general community.

Given that the task of assessing applications and contributing to meetings is identical for all HREC members, how do clergy understand themselves alongside their colleagues (who may be harbouring strong religious views but are not required to disclose them and which need not be presumed) as contributors to the wellbeing of the research landscape? Several clergy described pastoral care for committee colleagues and secretariat staff, by virtue of regular contact with them. This was implicit and automatic pastoral work. Care for researchers and participants whom the HREC members will never meet, is also natural pastoral work and a clear driver for clergy in their appointments.

Serving HRECs also provides clergy with a window to unfolding knowledge, a forward-looking perspective, regular use of critical faculties not always appreciated in congregational work, intelligent company, confidential settings in which they can be full participants without any oversight from their hierarchies resulting in contributions that don’t need to follow predictable, dogmatic lines, and a chance to serve beyond the faith or denomination. Australia has encoded high standards for itself in the research domain. Participants in my research were clear that high ethical research standards fit congruently into their understanding of their ministry work and several specialise in HREC work as their ministry interest. Many of these have high-level academic qualifications and years of expertise, which are offered repeatedly to the Australian community through HREC service.

Rabbi Dr Aviva Kipen has held Monash University HREC appointments and served on the Victorian Bio-Ethics Advisory Committee. She returned to serve a second term on the Australian Health Ethics Committee of NHMRC in 2019 and has begun the current triennium for the Victorian DHHS HREC. All comments reflect material in the thesis Kipen, A. (2015) Serving God and The Commonwealth of Australia: The Ministry Experiences of Clergy in Victorian Human Research Ethics Committees. Melbourne: University of Divinity.

This post may be cited as:
Kipen, A. (3 November 2019) Clergy service to HRECs: the useful paradox within secular governance of research involving human participants. Retrieved from: https://ahrecs.com/human-research-ethics/clergy-service-to-hrecs-the-useful-paradox-within-secular-governance-of-research-involving-human-participants

Keywords
Clergy, religion, denomination, ministry, faith

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