a The UN Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization’s Understanding of Science

UNESCO’s 1974 Recommendation on the Status of Scientific Researchers was the first document to define the scientific process, describing it as follows:

In 2017, UNESCO updated its Recommendation on Science and Scientific Researchers, which led to a revised understanding of what constitutes the scientific process. While the 1974 UNESCO Recommendation described the approach to science as an organised attempt of objective studies through coordination, systematic reflection and conceptualisation, often by symbols of mathematics, the reference to the mathematical methods was deleted in the 2017 version, in which UNESCO altered its perspective on the results of science. Rather than depicting them solely as a causal chain, the revised definition acknowledges that these results can also emerge from relations or interactions. Additionally, the 2017 Recommendation incorporated the notion that the sharing of findings and data, as well as peer review, is integral to the scientific process. These modifications reflect a more nuanced understanding of how science operates and underscore the importance of communal verification in the scientific journey.Footnote ⁹⁰

The inspiration for UNESCO to include peer review and ethics in their understanding of the scientific process probably stems from a 2013 study by the AAASFootnote ⁹¹ with US-based scientists and engineers to find out how they perceive the right to science and what elements they consider crucial for its effective implementation. The group analysed science as ‘an iterative, logical and empirically based process’Footnote ⁹² and ‘the body of specialized knowledge that is accumulated through that process’.Footnote ⁹³ Moreover, the AAAS study regards peer review and ethics as essential guiding principles for the scientific process and evaluation of the resulting knowledge.Footnote ⁹⁴

Finally, the scientific process is understood by UNESCO to be closely linked with ‘research and development’, a term which itself is divided into scientific research and experimental development. Scientific research is characterised by ‘processes of study, experiment, conceptualization, theory-testing and validation involved in the generation of scientific knowledge’.Footnote ⁹⁵ Experimental development, conversely, involves ‘the processes of adaptation, testing and refinement which lead to the point of practical applicability including as innovation’.Footnote ⁹⁶

b The UN Committee on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights’ Understanding of Science

In its 2020 General Comment No. 25 on science, the CESCR posits that the scientific process should be both ‘open to falsifiability and testability’ and should not be immune to ‘any falsifiability or intersubjective verification’. The emphasis on testability seems to be inspired by the 2012 Report of the Special Rapporteur in the field of cultural rights, which argues, ‘Science must be understood as knowledge that is testable and refutable’.Footnote ⁹⁷ However, the criterion of testability is arguably redundant, given that the concepts of verification or validation, as well as falsifiability or refutability, intrinsically presuppose the testability of the scientific knowledge. Additionally, the CESCR has adopted UNESCO’s definition of science and, by extension, their definition for the scientific process. The decision to depend on UNESCO’s definition is understandable given that UNESCO’s mandate is the most pertinent and that this definition has been agreed upon and ratified by its member states. If it had not been adopted, it would have jeopardised UNESCO’s crucial work, and there are few, if any, obvious alternative definitions emanating from international authorities or institutions with science in their mandate.Footnote ⁹⁸

The Committee’s decision to incorporate falsifiability as an integral aspect of scientific progress merits further scrutiny.Footnote ⁹⁹ While UNESCO’s definition broadly corresponds to the notion of validation, it excludes falsifiability, a specific theory of scientific demarcation associated with a certain philosophical tradition and set of assumptions.Footnote ¹⁰⁰ Although this is not the place to debate the philosophical merits of falsificationism, the Committee chose to import a specific and contentious theory of scientific demarcation without remark or explanation.Footnote ¹⁰¹ Furthermore, by addressing falsificationism and verificationism, the Committee juxtaposes mutually incompatible scientific demarcation theories based on opposing epistemic assumptions. In summary,

Nevertheless, General Comment No. 25 offers a valuable clarification by specifying what does not qualify as part of the scientific process. It particularly excludes processes of knowledge that are fundamentally rooted in tradition, revelation or authority. Such excluded methodologies are devoid of the capacity for rational scrutiny and experiential evaluation, are not open to intersubjective verification and, thus, cannot be considered a scientific process.Footnote ¹⁰³

c Science in the ICJ Whaling in the Antarctic Case (Australia v. Japan: New Zealand Intervening)

In 2014, the ICJ faced the challenging task of delineating the concept of the ‘scientific process’ in relation to Japan’s controversial whaling programme. The programme in question involved lethal whaling activities, which Japan claimed were conducted for scientific research purposes. The significance of this claim lies in its potential to qualify the activities for an exemption under the International Convention for the Regulation of Whaling.Footnote ¹⁰⁴ Specifically, Art. VIII of said Convention allows for special permits for whaling activities conducted ‘for the purpose of scientific research’.Footnote ¹⁰⁵ Thus, the ICJ found itself in a position where it had to interpret this clause within the framework of Art. VIII, a task with important legal and environmental implications.

Interestingly, the ICJ dissected the phrase from Art. VIII into its constituent elements: ‘scientific research’ and ‘for the purposes of’. After hearing one expert witness on the matter, the Court concluded that it was not necessary to provide a general definition for ‘scientific research’ and dismissed criteria for scientific research presented by one expert witness. However, the ICJ did interpret the component ‘for the purposes of’, examining the design and implementation of the whaling programme in relation to its stated scientific objectives, and ultimately held, ‘The research objectives alone must be sufficient to justify the programme as designed and implemented’.Footnote ¹⁰⁶

The Court’s failure to interpret or provide a general understanding of ‘scientific research’ unsurprisingly led to several dissenting opinions. Judge Owada criticised the judgment for abandoning the effort to define ‘scientific research’, arguing that the focus should have been on interpreting the plain and ordinary meaning of Art. VIII.Footnote ¹⁰⁷ Judge Bennouna found fault with the Court for declining to define ‘scientific research’ while still analysing the meaning of ‘for the purposes of’. In his view, this approach constituted a paradox: it sought to determine the purpose of an activity without first clarifying its nature. He further noted that, given its refusal to define ‘scientific research’, the Court’s subsequent analysis of the programme’s methodology was contradictory.Footnote ¹⁰⁸ Judge Xue also took issue with the Court’s decision to treat ‘scientific research’ and ‘for the purposes of’ as separate conditions for review and argued that the phrase ‘for the purposes of’ cannot be evaluated independently; its meaning is contingent upon the definition of ‘scientific research’.Footnote ¹⁰⁹ Judge Sebutinde criticised the Court for not offering a general definition or alternative criteria for ‘scientific research’ and suggested that the Court should have considered the grammatical meaning of the term, which entails a systematic pursuit of knowledge through observation and experimentation. She cited the Oxford English Dictionary definition to bolster her argument: ‘Although the concept of “science” is inherently vague, “scientific research” must, in its most basic sense, involve “a systematic pursuit of knowledge concerning the structure and behaviour of the physical and natural world through observation and experiment”.’Footnote ¹¹⁰

In summary, it is appropriate to acknowledge the Court’s caution in rejecting the expert testimony of a single witness. However, the Court’s decision to dissociate scientific research from its purposes (Art. VIII) creates increased complexity rather than resolving the issue at hand. The two conditions are inextricably linked, making the Court’s approach somewhat ambivalent. Regrettably, the Court avoided the challenge of providing a concrete definition of scientific research under the Convention, a task that would be a legal exercise within its mandate.

While this issue predominantly pertains to the Whaling Convention, it is not devoid of implications for human rights law. Although one can understand the Court’s hesitation in venturing into potentially divisive philosophical debates over what constitutes the ‘scientific’, the refusal to address this issue is lamentable. As underscored by the dissenting opinions, an expansive philosophical definition would not have been a necessity. A straightforward textual interpretation based on the plain and ordinary meaning of ‘scientific’ would have sufficed. This missed opportunity not only complicates matters but also leaves a gap in jurisprudence that future cases will inevitably have to address.

d The Human Rights Understanding of Science

What can be gathered from this section is that current authoritative documents, including General Comment No. 25 on science, have failed to offer a coherent and comprehensive definition of science and the scientific process in the context of human rights law. This failure not only muddles the legal landscape but also impinges on the human right to science.

As outlined in Section 3.2.2.1b, the concept of science involves a distinct process that adheres to a particular methodology, colloquially referred to as ‘doing science’.Footnote ¹¹¹ Central to this scientific process is the notion of critical inquiry. Notably, the scope of protection afforded by the human right to science should not depend on whether the scientific process conforms to the paradigms of verification/validation, falsifiability/refutability and testability as presented in the analysed UN documents. The 1974 and 2017 UNESCO Recommendations’ definitions of science and the scientific process are inadequate and fail to consider their evolving applications. Originally intended to guide regional science policy discussions, this definition of ‘science’ has undergone several modifications but has not been scrutinised for broader applicability. Philosophically, the term is problematic: it conflates different concepts such as verification/validation and falsifiability/refutability, which come from distinct philosophies of science. It also neglects the role of theory in scientific practice and overlooks non-empirical forms of knowledge, such as logic, data science and mathematics.Footnote ¹¹² As shown in Section 3.2.2.1a, the UNESCO Recommendations’ definitions have subsequently been adopted by the report of the Special Rapporteur in the field of cultural rights and General Comment No. 25. However, a proper legal interpretation suggests a different outcome for understanding the scientific process under the right to science.

Defining science within the framework of human rights should not involve prescribing specific methodologies or confining it to a particular historical context. As the right to science encompasses a wide community of knowledges (see Section 3.2.2.3), the inherent limitation of any definition based on specific methods is its inability to be universally applicable, as reflected in the differing dissenting opinions expressed in the ICJ’s judgment on Antarctic whaling (see Section 3.2.2.1c). General Comment No. 25, however, offers a useful clarification by specifying what does not qualify as a scientific process. It specifically excludes methods that rely solely on tradition, revelation or authority, which lack the capacity for reasoned scrutiny or experiential analysis and are not open to objective verification.Footnote ¹¹³

To define science in human rights law, a more universal approach should be taken. The common thread lies in a ‘basic commitment to finding the most reliable knowledge in various disciplinary areas’,Footnote ¹¹⁴ although the specific methods employed to achieve this reliability vary between disciplines. Additionally, these general approaches are not static but evolve, underscoring science’s inherent ability for self-improvement. Rather than concentrating on selected scientific methods, the unity of science is more fundamentally grounded in this shared commitment to reliability.Footnote ¹¹⁵ Against this backdrop, the German Constitutional Court’s ruling in the Hochschul-Urteil, which interprets scientific progress or activity as ‘everything that can be regarded as a serious, planned attempt to discover the truth’, is elucidating.Footnote ¹¹⁶ Finally, Hanson provides a compelling summary of the scientific process, which is right on the mark in terms of the analysis for the right to science:

The question of whether something ought to be regarded as scientific thus depends on both its epistemic qualities and subject area (see Section 3.2.2.2).Footnote ¹¹⁸ As such, the human rights understanding of science can be defined as any serious, planned attempt to uncover the truth, providing the most reliable statements currently possible on topics recognised by different knowledge systems.

Furthermore, while the question of what should be understood as science or scientific process in the context of the right to science under international human rights law is fundamentally a legal one, the most appropriate scientific process or method for addressing a particular research question depends on the state-of-the-art in each discipline. Such assessments should ultimately be left to experts in the field, as such a specific assessment is beyond the scope of legal review.

a The Benefits of Science in Lato Sensu

As discussed in Section 3.1.1, considerable scholarly debate has occurred concerning the goals of science, particularly in relation to the adoption of the UDHR and ICESCR. Tying the right to science to particular goals such as democracy has been clearly rejected. The prevailing conclusion is that science should be viewed as any serious, planned attempt to uncover the truth in both its content and form. As Judge Cançado Trindade stated in his separate opinion in the Whaling in the Antarctic case in 2014, ‘Scientific research is a search for truth, amidst conjectures, and, given one’s fallibility, one has to learn with mistakes incurred into. One can hope to be coming closer to truth, but without knowing for sure whether one is distant from, or near it’.Footnote ¹²⁰ In this context, Chapman concludes, ‘By its very nature basic scientific research is generally directed toward the pursuit of knowledge and not the goal of human betterment’.Footnote ¹²¹ However, when considered within the framework of human rights law, the purpose of science evolves; within the right to science, science itself is intricately woven into the international human rights framework. The Committee articulates this, stating that the term ‘benefits’ ‘convey[s] the idea of a positive impact on the well-being of people and the realisation of their human rights’.Footnote ¹²² This perspective helps us contextualise and nuance science within the right to science.

The right to science is intricately interwoven with the broader tapestry of international human rights law. This perspective enriches our comprehension and refinement of the role that science plays within the right to science’s framework. It is thus imperative to construe the nature and objectives of science within the expansive context of human rights law. Viewing science through this human rights prism accentuates its paramount goal: the enhancement of human welfare and the full realisation of human rights. Such a conclusion emerges from a textual, systematic and teleological interpretation of Art. 15(1)(b). A textual analysis suggests that human rights law encompasses only the benefits of science, thereby ensuring that individuals are safeguarded from its potential adverse effects (see Section 5.4.1.1c). A systematic examination reveals that science is protected in the ICESCR, a human rights treaty, which implies it should be interpreted as part of the human rights corpus: the right to science must thus contribute to the advancement of human rights. A teleological interpretation underlines the need for the effective protection of rights holders. Hence, the pro homine approach concludes that science should not solely be dedicated to the quest for truth but also advance human welfare and, in turn, the complete realisation of human rights.

Various supplementary documents reinforce this interpretation. According to the Venice Statement, science is more than just improving understanding of a particular field or collecting data and testing theories that may be valuable for some practical reason: it also concerns improving the conditions for future scientific and cultural activity.Footnote ¹²³ Additionally, the Statement advocates that science should be directed without prejudice to the benefit of all people, particularly underprivileged and marginalised individuals and communities.Footnote ¹²⁴ The Special Rapporteur in the field of cultural rights outlined that science in the context of the right to science ‘convey[s] idea of a positive impact on the well-being of people and the realization of their human rights’.Footnote ¹²⁵ The 2017 UNESCO Recommendation on Science and Scientific Researchers states that science can offer immense opportunities for growth, particularly through the optimal use of science and scientific techniques for the benefit of humanity, the maintenance of peace and the reduction of international tensions, but can also pose certain risks.Footnote ¹²⁶ General Comment No. 25 outlines that science can contribute to the well-being of individuals and humanity. As a result, states should prioritise the advancement of science in the service of peace and human rights over other uses.Footnote ¹²⁷

Linked to the benefits of science is the idea of progress. Directly following the term ‘enjoy the benefits’ in Art. 15(1)(b) of the ICESCR is ‘of scientific progress’. Upon initial examination, the meaning of scientific progress may appear self-evident. As per the Oxford English Dictionary, ‘progress’ means an onward movement following a prescribed course, in a specific direction.Footnote ¹²⁸ However, the term ‘scientific progress’ ought to be interpreted in the context of human rights law, as previously discussed regarding the benefits of science. Upon closer analysis, scientific progress within the scope of the right to science suggests that such progress is intrinsically linked to a ‘positive impact on the well-being of people and the realisation of their human rights’.Footnote ¹²⁹ At its core, scientific progress denotes a commitment to human betterment and the expanded fulfilment of human rights. The interpretation of scientific progress, when examined through the prism of the right to science, is thus inextricably tied to the benefits of science in stricto sensu.

Lastly, the notion of progress is inclusive of the implementation of ESC rights, as articulated in Art. 2(1) ICESCR and termed ‘progressive realisation’. This provision suggests that elevating living standards is an essential prerequisite for the implementation of ESC rights.Footnote ¹³⁰ Within such a framework, science emerges as an empowerment right, acting as a catalyst that advances the implementation of other human rights (see Chapter 4).

Having established that science (i.e., scientific process and progress) should be fundamentally free but that its results should serve the betterment of humanity, the question arises as to exactly what constitutes the results of science or, in other words, the benefits of science in stricto sensu.

b The Benefits of Science in Stricto Sensu

On a pure textual reading, to enjoy the benefits of scientific progress and its applications implies a conceptual divide between two distinct results of science – the benefits of scientific progress and of its applications.Footnote ¹³¹ According to the Committee in its General Comment No. 25 on science,

This statement by the Committee is crucial; material benefits have been over-emphasised, which has inadvertently narrowed the scope of protection of the right to science. Initially, the benefits of science were viewed as only material, thus excluding immaterial benefits. When tracing the interpretation of the term ‘benefits’ according to the travaux préparatoires, they constitute material benefits, which every individual should be able to enjoy in everyday life. Based on this reading of the travaux préparatoires, Hans Morten Haugen defines benefits as material or technological.Footnote ¹³³ Chapman reached the same conclusion by analysing the travaux préparatoires.Footnote ¹³⁴ However, the assertion that these benefits pertain exclusively to material rather than immaterial results from science ultimately contradicts a textual interpretation of Art. 15(1)(b). Relying primarily on the travaux préparatoires to support a one-sided interpretation, while giving limited attention to the ordinary meaning of the treaty text, raises concerns from the perspective of methodological pluralism in treaty interpretation.

Fortunately, such a narrow interpretation has been abandoned. Albeit unclear on this account, the Venice Statement outlines that the processes, products and applications should be directed towards the benefit of all humanity.Footnote ¹³⁵ According to the Report of the Special Rapporteur in the field of cultural rights, the benefits of science include ‘not only scientific results and outcomes but also the scientific process, its methodologies, and tools’.Footnote ¹³⁶ An AAAS report summarising an empirical survey points in the same direction: not only the results and outcomes but also the process, methods and tools count as benefits of science. The focus group of scientists in the AAAS report followed the just-mentioned definition of the benefits of science, acknowledging both non-material and material elements.Footnote ¹³⁷ This report was then presented to the United Nations Human Rights Council in 2014, where Jessica Wyndham presented the proposition that the right to science includes actions aimed at incorporating scientists, scientific data, analysis and conclusions into various governmental activities, such as the formation of laws, policies and programmes.Footnote ¹³⁸

General Comment No. 25 offers a detailed description of the material and non-material elements of the benefits of scientific progress. The first example of the immaterial benefit of science is mentioned by the Committee directly after its interpretation of its understanding of the benefit, namely ‘the role of science in forming critical and responsible citizens who are able to participate fully in a democratic society’.Footnote ¹³⁹ The Committee continues in the main body to define ‘benefits’ through detailed and practical examples, such as twelve core obligations,Footnote ¹⁴⁰ special topics of broad applicationFootnote ¹⁴¹ and areas of interdependence with other rights.Footnote ¹⁴²

In summary, the benefits of science can be divided into immaterial and material benefits. The immaterial benefit of science is the knowledge gained by the scientific process, while the material benefits are the applications, thus the technology and innovations stemming from science.

a Scientific Knowledge

This section delineates the disciplines included within ‘the sciences’Footnote ¹⁴⁴ as they pertain to the right to science. UNESCO was the first international body at the UN level to provide a definition of the sciences. In its framework, UNESCO defines the sciences encompassing various scientific disciplines, as ‘a complex of fact and hypothesis, in which the theoretical element is normally capable of being validated, and to that extent includes the sciences concerned with social facts and phenomena’.Footnote ¹⁴⁵ UNESCO’s understanding has been corroborated by the CESCR in its General Comment No. 25 on science, where it concludes that the sciences within the context of the right to science encompass both natural and social sciences.Footnote ¹⁴⁶ The Committee’s definition for the sciences notably omits the humanities, which excludes an entire range of academic disciplines – such as law, history and philosophy – from the ambit of the right to science. This exclusion is particularly troubling considering the significant intellectual and societal contributions of these fields and their interconnectedness with disciplines that are encompassed within this definition.

In contrast, the Venice Statement takes a more expansive approach, arguing for a broader interpretation of what could, and arguably should, fall within the purview of the right to science. Rather than restricting this right to specific disciplines or methods, the Venice Statement favours a more inclusive approach. However, the Statement itself stops short of providing a clear, operational definition of the sciences. Instead, Art. 12(a) articulates that the right to science ‘is applicable to all fields of science and its applications’.Footnote ¹⁴⁷ Further elaboration is provided by the Special Rapporteur in the field of cultural rights, who argues that the right to science extends to ‘all fields of inquiry, including social sciences, and encompassing all research’.Footnote ¹⁴⁸ Furthermore, the World Commission on the Ethics of Scientific Knowledge and Technology (COMEST), mandated by UNESCO, outlines, ‘The scope of what counts as scientific knowledge may vary across cultures. It may be restricted to natural science in some parts of the world, while it may include social science and humanities in others’.Footnote ¹⁴⁹ These documents thus suggest a more comprehensive perspective that transcends the limitations of the CESCR’s understanding.

One might wonder why the CESCR did not include the humanities as part of science in its General Comment. Relying on UNESCO’s definition of the scope of the right to science is both prudent and practical, given its mandate and the endorsement of its member states. Alternative definitions from organisations with similar scientific mandates are sparse, if they exist at all, making the UNESCO definition the most logical choice.Footnote ¹⁵⁰ The Committee’s inclusion of social sciences within the ambit of the right to science may be influenced by the broader Special Rapporteur definition.Footnote ¹⁵¹

However, all knowledge derived from academic disciplines, both researched and taught in universities, could arguably be classified as scientific knowledge under the scope of the right to science. Proponents of a narrow interpretation of scientific processes, reduced to theories such as verificationism or falsificiationism, as discussed earlier in this section, will undoubtedly challenge this view on the grounds of a narrow understanding of the scientific process. Among disciplines often cited to question the inclusion of the humanities are theology and law.Footnote ¹⁵² While a full exploration of this question is neither feasible nor within the scope of this book, a brief account of these two fields seems valuable in illustrating the issue.

The debate surrounding the place of theology in academic institutions, traditionally dubbed the regina scientiarium (queen of the sciences), has roots in the era of the French Revolution. During this period, universities came under sharp scrutiny from Enlightenment intellectuals, prompting far-reaching reforms. These reforms culminated in the development of the modern university model, inspired by the ideas of Wilhelm and Alexander von Humboldt. The founding of the University of Berlin in 1810, later renamed Humboldt University of Berlin in 1946, marked a turning point. This new model emphasised that the production of scientific knowledge was best cultivated within an academic environment. While the state retained a role in overseeing universities, it refrained from prescribing specific theological doctrines, thereby laying the foundation for academic freedom (see Section 5.4.3.1). The Berlin model greatly influenced higher educational establishments throughout Europe and beyond. Unlike in the United States, where theology primarily finds its home in ecclesiastical seminaries, the University of Berlin included a theological faculty, heavily influenced by Friedrich Schleiermacher, who championed the inclusion of theology as an academic discipline, provided it met scholarly criteria. Schleiermacher segmented theology into three sub-disciplines: historical theology, emphasising empirical scrutiny of contemporary Christian thought; philosophical theology, employing critical methodologies from philosophy; and practical theology, geared towards training future ministers. He saw practical theology as the pinnacle of theological study, drawing analogies with law in its empirical analysis of texts, traditions and beliefs to equip students for roles in public service. Hence, should theological studies, such as historical or philosophical theology, align with scientific criteria, theology departments at secular universities are well suited for the critical scrutiny and development of diverse theological traditions, extending beyond merely Christian perspectives.Footnote ¹⁵³

The debate regarding whether law should be categorised as a science also merits brief consideration. In the German-speaking context, law is considered a science (Rechtswissenschaft, literally legal science), although it has traditionally been classified as an Art. However, legal research also follows a scientific process. Legal methodology aspires to systematically rationalise preconceptions to ensure they are comprehensible and can be consistently conveyed to others, thus asserting the status of law as a scientific discipline. However, law is unique inasmuch it is a normative discipline, focused on norms and values. It has both a hermeneutic and a practical dimension, aiming to be not only true but also ‘correct’, a measure that transcends logical reasoning to include underlying values. Legal reasoning is thus teleological, seeking purposeful solutions, and derives its legitimacy from a shared professional opinion.Footnote ¹⁵⁴

Those who claim that legal science must meet stricter criteria are of course not satisfied with this. Some argue for a purely empirical approach (legal realism),Footnote ¹⁵⁵ while others prefer a logical, detached method (logical legal idealism).Footnote ¹⁵⁶ However, both perspectives are limiting: they ignore either the normative or factual dimension of law and thus fail to capture the whole of legal reasoning. Finally, legal language is imprecise and not clearly distinguishable from other languages due to its task of translating between everyday life and law. It takes concepts and arguments from everyday life and different sub-systems of society and gives them a legal meaning. As such, the following questions arise: How does one unravel the normative meaning expressed in the linguistic formulationFootnote ¹⁵⁷ of a treaty provision? Does the interpretation of human rights treaties depend on subjective and unpredictable judgment, or is it, in fact, guided by explicit rules and a methodology? In other words, is it an art, a science or both?

In its commentary to the VCLT in 1966, the ILC stated that ‘the interpretation of documents is to some extent an art, not an exact science’.Footnote ¹⁵⁸ Juxtaposing treaty interpretation as rather an art instead of a science, especially when considering the precision expected in natural sciences,Footnote ¹⁵⁹ however, fails to truly capture the scientific inquiry involved in legal interpretation.Footnote ¹⁶⁰ In a similar vein, Merkouris argues that the traditional concept of ‘exact science’ is increasingly misaligned with contemporary realities. This is evident, for instance, in the domain of modern physics, where notions such as chaos theory, quantum mechanics and Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle challenge the traditional understanding of scientific exactitude. Although treaty interpretation exhibits shortcomings, such as uncertainty, these challenges – not unique to the legal field – are also inherent in the exact sciences.Footnote ¹⁶¹ This parallel underscores the argument that legal treaty interpretation should indeed be regarded as a scientific method employed in law, reflecting its alignment with science rather than Art. Nonetheless, treaty interpretation as a scientific process can certainly be influenced by art:

Of course, diverging interpretations may emerge among scholars, lawyers or politicians acting for subjects of international law – often influenced by their individual world views or the particular interests they represent in a legal case.Footnote ¹⁶³ Yet, legal methods are an approach that follows rules to ensure legal certainty, the ultimate goal of legal science. All courts, tribunals and treaty bodies, whether overtly or tacitly, must adhere to treaty interpretation rules.Footnote ¹⁶⁴ The adherence to a proper methodology ensures normative legitimacy – the extent to which its reasoning is coherent, determinative and systemically consistent.Footnote ¹⁶⁵

Nonetheless, an open understanding of jurisprudence can be attacked from a position that claims that jurisprudence has no independent methodological legitimacy and is merely a continuation of politics in the realm of the application of law. This is the position of critical legal studies (CLS). Those who critique the CLS movement contend that the law is intrinsically contradictory and ideologically driven, significantly shaped by underlying social and political values. They suggest that traditional legal methodology is flawed because it often ignores the ethical and political implications of legal decisions. In their view, legal scholarship can only be truly scientific if it takes an interdisciplinary approach that incorporates politics and ethics.Footnote ¹⁶⁶

In conclusion, although the discussion regarding the scientific nature of theology and law could be extended, this would exceed the scope of this book and holds no key relevance within its focus. To bring this discussion to a close, the Committee’s distinction in its General Comment on science serves as a useful point of reference: ‘Knowledge based solely on tradition, revelation, or authority – without the possibility of scrutiny through reason and experience or being subject to falsifiability or intersubjective verification – cannot be deemed science.’Footnote ¹⁶⁷ This serves to distinguish authentic scientific knowledge from that which is false, deceptive or pseudoscientific, the latter of which should not be recognised as part of the corpus of scientific knowledge (see Section 3.2.2.3d).

Shifting attention away from the philosophical debates on what constitutes scientific knowledge and academic disciplines, the discussion reverts to the central question: whether all academic disciplines taught and researched at universities should be classified as scientific knowledge and thereby fall within the scope of the right to science. For the construction of a solid legal argument, the treaty text should serve as the primary point of reference.

In the language(s) of the ICESCR, a broader definition of scientific knowledge, including the humanities, is motivated by its more expansive interpretation in other authentic language versions of the treaty. The contemporary English-speaking perception of the sciences tends to focus narrowly on the natural sciences, a constriction that largely emerged in the early twentieth century. Prior to that period, the sciences in the English language were more broadly used to describe serious intellectual study aimed at truth discovery.Footnote ¹⁶⁸ This expansive understanding gains further support when examining the official UN language versions of the ICESCR. The interpretation of the term ‘science’ in the Russian, Arabic, French, Spanish and Chinese versions is noticeably broader than its contemporary English equivalent.Footnote ¹⁶⁹ Notably, Art. 33 VCLT lays down the rule that if a treaty is authenticated in multiple languages, each language version is considered equally authentic and authoritative in the event of interpretive difficulties. As such, the sciences should arguably be broader than modern English usage suggests. A textual interpretation of the sciences thus suggests a broader scope including not only the natural and social sciences but also the humanities.

Furthermore, science is characterised by a ‘basic commitment to finding the most reliable knowledge in various disciplinary areas’.Footnote ¹⁷⁰ This serves as the common denominator uniting diverse fields – be they the natural sciences, social sciences or humanities. Such an inclusive stance aligns well with a systematic interpretation. The right to science as a human right also mandates that ethical considerations be accounted for. While the natural sciences focus on empirical data and the social sciences address societal dynamics, the humanities explore cultural, ethical and historical elements that inform human experience. These disciplines thus complement each other by providing a multi-dimensional understanding of human life. Expanding the sciences to include the humanities ultimately also aligns with a teleological approach. Interpreting human rights treaties necessitates a pro homine approach, choosing the option most favourable to human beings for the effective protection of their rights. Excluding the humanities from the scope of science would be incongruent with the object and purpose of the right to science and would not accord with contemporary understandings of the sciences.

In seeking a broader and more inclusive conceptualisation of the sciences, one might consider the German Wissenschaft or Latin scientia. Both terms offer expansive interpretations that encompass various disciplines. Two illustrative examples from national constitutions, the German Constitutional Court and the Swiss Federal Administrative Court, can underscore this point; in national contexts, courts or legal bodies have often addressed the issue more directly. Their rulings, although only binding within their respective jurisdictions, can offer insights into what is considered a legitimate scientific process for the purposes of legal interpretation.

For example, the German Constitutional Court was tasked with defining science within the context of the scientific freedom enshrined in Art. 5 para. 3 of the Basic Law for the Federal Republic of Germany. Notably, the German term for science, Wissenschaft, has a broader scope than its English counterpart. In this regard, the Constitutional Court elaborated,

Another illuminating example arises from a judgment rendered by the Swiss Federal Administrative Court, specifically in the context of migration law. The case revolved around the ‘preference system’ stipulated in Swiss migration law concerning employment-based admissions. As per Art. 21 of the Foreign Nationals and Integration Act,Footnote ¹⁷² preference is accorded to domestic workers and those from EU/EEA countries before extending work permits to non-EU/EEA nationals. Commonly referred to as ‘labour market testing’, this mechanism, which aims to safeguard domestic labour markets, is a prevalent feature in the immigration systems of many countries. Notably, an exemption from this preference system can be made for non-EU/EEA nationals whose employment is deemed of significant economic or scientific interest to Switzerland. To elucidate the meaning of ‘scientific interest’, the Court refers to the concept of scientific freedom, as enshrined in Art. 20 of the Swiss Constitution,Footnote ¹⁷³ and posits,

In summary, within the context of the right to science as a human right, scientific knowledge covers all academic disciplines taught and researched at universities, including the natural sciences, social sciences and humanities. A query then emerges: Does knowledge that has not attained academic recognition (i.e., citizen science, as well as Indigenous and traditional knowledge) fall within the purview of the community of knowledge protected by the right to science?

b Citizen Science

Through the course of history, amateurs have been involved in scientific inquiry or pursued scientific inquiries in their free time. Only in the late nineteenth century did science become institutionalised and professionalised, thereby side-lining non-professionals. Yet, recent decades have witnessed a resurgence in non-professional participation in scientific activities. The activities within the realm of citizen science are diverse, encompassing everything from birdwatching to bee radar studies to hail reports.Footnote ¹⁷⁵ Two key societal factors underpin this trend: firstly, the internet, which enables global access to online tools and data storage and transmission capabilities; secondly, a growing societal acceptance that individuals should be active in the political, scientific and cultural processes that impact them.Footnote ¹⁷⁶

As an illustration, some fields, such as philately (the collection and study of stamps), lack formal academic status despite having devoted collectors. This contrasts with numismatics (the study and collection of coins), which enjoys strong academic recognition due primarily to its utility in archaeological dating. However, when historians require philatelists’ expertise for dating stamped but undated letters, their input becomes as valuable as that of numismatists. Thus, the inclusion of citizen science in the community of knowledge disciplines protected under the right to science should hinge not on academic status but on methodology and the type of knowledge contributed.

Although no universal definition of citizen science exists,Footnote ¹⁷⁷ it can be understood as ‘any form of active, non-professional participation in science that goes beyond human subject research conducted by professional researchers’Footnote ¹⁷⁸ or, put simply by the CESCR, as ‘ordinary people doing science’.Footnote ¹⁷⁹ However, this characterisation may lead to terminological confusion, given that citizen involvement in science might not always follow rigorous methodological standards. More often, citizen science involves collaboration between non-professionals and professional scientists. It is this collaborative model, rather than isolated efforts by individuals lacking methodological rigour, that more accurately embodies the essence of ‘doing science’ in a methodological context.

Moreover, in the view of the present author, the term ‘citizen’ could be potentially misleading in this context, since citizenship should not be a pertinent consideration.Footnote ¹⁸⁰ More appropriate terms may include ‘people science’, ‘public science’ or ‘participatory science’, which more closely resonate with the human rights view on participatory science within the right to science framework.

Finally, citizen science is unquestionably a catalyst for scientific innovation, yet it can also raise serious ethical and regulatory issues, such as those emerging from do-it-yourself biology, self-experimentation with medicinal compounds or genetic testing. Including citizen science within the scope of the right to science acknowledges its contributory role in scientific advancement while simultaneously furnishing a normative framework to navigate the accompanying ethical and regulatory dilemmas. Such inclusion also facilitates a judicious evaluation of the potential advantages and risks inherent in citizen science.

c Indigenous and Traditional Knowledge

The interaction between scientific knowledge and traditional and Indigenous knowledge – particularly within the scope of the right to science – remains both essential and relatively under-explored. Whether Indigenous and traditional knowledge fall within the ambit of the right to science is not clearly addressed in the CESCR’s General Comment No. 25. Although these forms of knowledge have often been excluded from mainstream academic recognition, they carry considerable cultural, historical and practical significance. Importantly, international recognition of their value is growing. For example, the 2023 Agreement under the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea on the Conservation and Sustainable Use of Marine Biological Diversity of Areas beyond National Jurisdiction (BBNJ Agreement) explicitly calls for the mainstreaming of Indigenous and traditional knowledge in marine conservation efforts.Footnote ¹⁸¹ This reflects an emerging normative shift towards more inclusive understandings of knowledge systems across international legal frameworks.

While a comprehensive exploration of the topic lies beyond the scope of this book, this section offers an initial legal understanding of Indigenous and traditional knowledge. This aims to provide a foundation for more nuanced engagement with the right to science and its implementation in the future. As mentioned in Section 3.2.2.3a, knowledge is the fact or condition of knowing something.Footnote ¹⁸² Indigenous knowledge, understood as ‘the knowledge of local groups with a unique culture, history, and social relations’,Footnote ¹⁸³ includes common characteristics such as the knowledge being collective, closely tied to location, intergenerational, experiential, tacit, holistic and dynamic.Footnote ¹⁸⁴ Traditional knowledge ‘refers to the knowledge system existing in and owned by the much wider community, which may consist of millions of members, and may be defined differently, following complexity of the term “community” itself’.Footnote ¹⁸⁵

The question at hand concerns whether Indigenous and traditional knowledge may be encompassed by the right to science. Scientific knowledge falls within the purview of this right, as previously established (see Section 3.2.2.3a). The Committee further delineates what it does not consider scientific knowledge: ‘Knowledge which is based solely on tradition, revelation or authority, without the possible contrast with reason and experience, or which is immune to any falsifiability or intersubjective verification, cannot be considered science.’Footnote ¹⁸⁶ While traditional and Indigenous knowledge may not align with conventional definitions of scientific knowledge, they are also not inherently excluded by the criteria set forth by the Committee. Against this backdrop, the Committee outlines, ‘Local, traditional and Indigenous knowledge, especially regarding nature, species (flora, fauna, seeds) and their properties, are precious and have an important role to play in the global scientific dialogue.’Footnote ¹⁸⁷ Nevertheless, the definition provided by the Committee sets up a dichotomy between religion and science. This distinction becomes particularly challenging in the context of Indigenous knowledge systems, where knowledge is often deeply intertwined with religious beliefs and practices. This interweaving can make it difficult to distinctly separate scientific aspects from religious ones within these traditional knowledge frameworks. The Committee adds that states should adopt measures to protect such knowledge and that Indigenous and local communities ‘should participate in a global intercultural dialogue for scientific progress’.Footnote ¹⁸⁸ COMEST succinctly captures the importance of Indigenous and traditional knowledge:

The question then arises of whether Indigenous and traditional knowledge are truly sufficiently distinct from modern scientific knowledge to warrant separation or share more similarities than one might initially perceive. Scientific knowledge is typically obtained through structured, methodological processes that, for instance, validate the safety and efficacy of pharmaceutical drugs. In contrast, Indigenous or traditional knowledge bases its validity on an extensive history of use. In the parlance of modern Western academic discourse, this might be categorised as epistemology, particularly in the sense of empirical knowledge. Such knowledge derives not from formal scientific methods but from generations of lived experience, observation and oral transmission. Should plants used medicinally in Indigenous cultures seek acceptance in modern knowledge systems, they must undergo scientific scrutiny. This effectively requires a framework of modern scientific epistemology, frequently marginalising or even excluding traditional and Indigenous approaches in the process.Footnote ¹⁹⁰

However, a closer examination of how Indigenous or traditional knowledge is acquired reveals that it largely rests on fact-finding practices, common to all human societies. For example, hunters in the Kalahari Desert use a technique known as persistence hunting. Although many animals outrun humans over short distances, humans have superior endurance, allowing them to exhaust their prey after a day or two of hunting. This method, not exclusive to the Kalahari hunters, is in fact employed by hunter–gatherers globally. These hunters scrutinise animal tracks, deliberate on the optimal approach, hypothesise the animal’s potential locations, acknowledge gaps in their own understanding and express scepticism towards each other’s assertions. These skills mirror what all researchers must learn early in their academic careers.Footnote ¹⁹¹

The goal of fact-finding practices is to determine how things are rather than what we might wish, or presume, them to be. Five key elements characterise these practices: (1) they are inherently objectivist, meaning the facts should be universally acknowledged; (2) they distinguish between facts and values, focusing primarily on factual discovery; (3) they employ both rational reasoning and empirical investigation, prioritising the latter when well conducted; (4) they are collective endeavours, welcoming and critically evaluating contributions regardless of their source; and (5) they aim for continuous improvement.Footnote ¹⁹² Such fact-finding practices could rightly be termed sciences when they are more systematised and specialised, concentrating on generalisations and explanations rather than mere data gathering. This is a matter of degree, not of kind. As such, the fact-finding practices in Indigenous and traditional knowledge systems, in essence, follow the same basic patterns as modern scientific methods. This highlights the universal nature of the scientific enterprise, striving for a body of knowledge shared by all humanity.Footnote ¹⁹³

In this context, the Special Rapporteur on the rights of Indigenous peoples makes a crucial distinction. In a report on Indigenous women and the development, application, preservation and transmission of scientific and technical knowledge, he uses the term ‘scientific and technological knowledge’ rather than ‘traditional or customary knowledge’. This choice responds to calls for language that does not diminish the value of Indigenous peoples’ contributions. Such a distinction is crucial, particularly in emphasising that Indigenous and traditional knowledge should not be seen merely as precursors to modern scientific methods, especially in the context of the right to science.Footnote ¹⁹⁴ This perspective recognises the intrinsic value and unique contributions of Indigenous knowledge systems as distinct but equally valid ways of understanding and interacting with the world:

Concerning demarcations between knowledge systems, Agrawal argues against establishing dichotomies between ‘Western’ and Indigenous knowledge systems and instead advocates for a recognition of multiple domains and types of knowledge, each with its own logic and epistemology.Footnote ¹⁹⁶ Similarly, Coomans offers a dual perspective, positing that science and knowledge can emanate from Western societies as well as from traditional knowledge systems rooted in the cultural identity and heritage of non-dominant groups. He argues that human rights law should facilitate this dual approach by promoting cross-fertilisation and complementarity between the two concepts of knowledge and science. This might entail deemphasising the individual property rights aspects of knowledge in favour of a collective approach aimed at protecting and sustaining public goods, as well as cultural heritage and identity. To effectively enjoy the right to science, both modern and traditional or Indigenous knowledge and science must be integrated.Footnote ¹⁹⁷

Against this background, the term ‘Western’ science is a misnomer that overlooks the multicultural foundations and universal character of scientific inquiry. The roots of science extend to the ancient astronomers of Iraq, mathematicians from India and physicists from the Arabic world, among others.Footnote ¹⁹⁸ Characterising modern science as exclusively ‘Western’ – particularly in light of significant scientific contributions and investments from countries such as India in fields like pharmaceutical research – reflects a form of Eurocentric exceptionalism. The idea that science is an enterprise shaped solely by Western elites, and inherently distinct from all other forms of human knowledge-making, is not only historically inaccurate but also perpetuates a misleading and reductive narrative.Footnote ¹⁹⁹

The integration of Indigenous and traditional forms of knowledge within the human rights framework can foster a more equitable environment that honours diverse systems of knowledge. This inclusive approach not only empowers rights holders, by granting them access to an array of knowledge systems, but also challenges prevailing IP laws that disproportionately benefit large corporations who patent and commercialise traditional and Indigenous knowledge. In General Comment No. 17, the CESCR contributes a nuanced perspective on Art. 15(1)(c) safeguarding the moral and material interests of authors. Here, the Committee expands the ambit of protection under Art. 15(1)(c) to include not just scientific publications and innovations but also the knowledge, innovations and practices of Indigenous and local communities.Footnote ²⁰⁰ Under human rights law, Indigenous peoples have additional entitlements, as articulated in the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP).Footnote ²⁰¹ One right outlined in the UNDRIP particularly relevant in the context of the right to science is the right of Indigenous peoples to maintain, control, protect and develop their traditional knowledge and manifestations of their sciences and technologies, including human and genetic resources, seeds, medicines and knowledge of the properties of fauna and flora. Moreover, it enshrines their right to maintain, control, protect and develop IP over traditional knowledge (Art. 31 UNDRIP),Footnote ²⁰² which can however conflict with the right to access under the right to science. In the application of Indigenous or traditional knowledge, securing free, prior and informed consent (FPIC) is imperative.Footnote ²⁰³

The integration of Indigenous and traditional knowledge within the human rights framework becomes increasingly urgent in the era of globalisation, which perpetuates not only the traditional exportation of modern scientific knowledge from the Global North to Global South but also the flow of Indigenous and traditional expertise in the opposite direction. However, this does not imply a reciprocal exchange; post-colonial power structures remain deeply entrenched, often leading to the appropriation rather than equitable sharing of knowledge. This trend is particularly visible in the growing popularity of hallucinogenic plants such as ayahuasca, traditionally used in ritual contexts. Such popularisation has led to complex challenges in parts of Amazonia, Mexico, Gabon and Equatorial Guinea, for example, including cultural and biomedical appropriation, unsustainable harvesting for commercial purposes, disruptions to community rituals and economic imbalances that distort traditional social structures. Furthermore, Indigenous remedies are often caught up in international drug control regulations, which can limit the ability of these communities to share and develop their knowledge. This creates barriers, even as many of these treatments are increasingly recognised for being both effective and affordable.Footnote ²⁰⁴

The integration of Indigenous and traditional knowledge into modern scientific discourse and within the framework of the right to science deserves careful attention. Recognising these knowledge systems as legitimate forms of inquiry is a vital step toward decolonising science and fostering a more pluralistic and inclusive understanding of knowledge.Footnote ²⁰⁵ Concurrently, it is important to respect the wishes of Indigenous communities who, in line with Art. 31(1) UNDRIP, choose to maintain, control and protect their knowledge systems. As established with respect to citizen science (see Section 3.2.2.3b), the protection under the right to science should extend beyond academic credentials, focusing instead on the methodology and substantive nature of the knowledge. As noted, science is defined as any serious, planned attempt to uncover the truth, providing the most reliable statements currently possible on topics recognised by different knowledge systems. The pertinent inquiry then becomes not whether Indigenous and traditional knowledge fit within the right to science but rather which particular aspects should be included. This is not a question of kind but rather of degree. General Comment No. 25 on science specifies that knowledge based solely on tradition, revelation or authority that lacks any reliability cannot be classified as knowledge under the right to science.Footnote ²⁰⁶ The criterion of reliability serves as a cornerstone across all knowledge disciplines, underpinning the legitimacy and efficacy of various forms of understanding.Footnote ²⁰⁷ This distinction helps clarify, for instance, the difference between Indigenous medicinal plant knowledge that has been empirically validated and narratives rooted primarily in religious or mythological traditions.

In conclusion, Indigenous and traditional knowledge systems – particularly in fields like medicine, agriculture and environmental stewardship – offer vital insights and practical solutions. Integrating this non-academic yet essential knowledge into the scope of the right to science broadens the epistemic landscape and highlights the need for a more inclusive and equitable approach.Footnote ²⁰⁸ Such recognition not only affirms the value of these, often marginalised, forms of knowledge but also helps ensure their protection and continued relevance.

d Non-scientific, Unscientific and Pseudoscientific Knowledge

Having explored the inclusive potential of the right to science – particularly in recognising diverse knowledge systems such as Indigenous and traditional knowledge – it is equally important to delineate its boundaries. Not all forms of knowledge, however sincerely held or widely shared, fall within the protective scope of the right to science. False, misleading and pseudoscientific knowledge must be clearly distinguished from the recognised community of knowledge disciplines defined in Section 3.2.2.3a–c.Footnote ²⁰⁹ Given that science represents the most reliable source of knowledge and is protected as a human right, it becomes especially crucial to distinguish it from its mimics. Efforts to falsely confer scientific legitimacy on certain claims – such as climate change denialism – must therefore be critically scrutinised and challenged.

In General Comment No. 25 on science and ESC rights, the Committee highlights the adoption of ‘mechanisms to protect people from the harmful consequences of false, misleading and pseudoscience-based practices, especially when other economic, social and cultural rights are at risk’ as a core obligation.Footnote ²¹⁰ A brief clarification of what is meant by false, misleading or pseudoscientific practices is thus necessary. False or misleading information is defined as misinformationFootnote ²¹¹ or when used with the intention of influencing the policies or opinions of those who receive it, as disinformation: the ‘dissemination of deliberately false information, especially when supplied by a government or its agent to a foreign power or to the media, with the intention of influencing policies or opinions of those who receive it; false information so supplied’.Footnote ²¹²

Although attempts to define what constitutes science can be traced to antiquity, only in the twentieth century did explicit contrasts between science and pseudoscience emerge. However, the Latin term pseudoscientia was used as early as the first half of the seventeenth century, specifically in discussions relating to the interplay between religion and empirical investigations. While some consensus exists on specific instances demarcating science from pseudoscience, no overall consensus on this exact demarcation has been reached.Footnote ²¹³ Such discussions, however, exceed the scope of this book. In the context of this doctrinal analysis, the focus is tailored to concisely delineate the notions of non-science and pseudoscience, with the aim of demarcating the boundaries of the right to science.

Firstly, not everything that is non-scientific or unscientific is necessarily pseudoscientific. Non-scientific practices, including religious beliefs, can be clearly demarcated from science, while unscientific practices include, for example, scientific fraud or other forms of malpractice. Conversely, pseudoscience is a narrower concept distinguished by specific attributes.Footnote ²¹⁴

In short, pseudoscience entails three criteria – it (1) pertains to a scientific domain, (2) lacks reliability to such an extent that it cannot be trusted and (3) is propagated as the most reliable knowledge on its subject matter by its main proponentsFootnote ²¹⁵ – and primarily manifests in two distinct categories: the promotion of pseudo-theories and practice of science denialism. The former, such as reflexology or astrology, aims to propagate theories that diverge significantly from established scientific consensus. In contrast, the latter seeks to undermine or disavow existing scientific theories or entire fields of study. This includes Holocaust denialism, creationism and climate change denialism.Footnote ²¹⁶ Although these at-times overlapping categories share common traits, such as selective data usage, an inability to be published in peer-reviewed journals and a propensity for conspiracy theories to explain any shortcomings,Footnote ²¹⁷ recognising these distinctions allows for the protection of the integrity of science, ensuring that the right to science is reserved for disciplines that truly merit this recognition.

e Applications, Technology and Innovation

Having explored the immaterial results, which comprise a community of knowledge disciplines, this section examines the material outcomes, applications and technology, which may also exhibit innovative features. The term ‘applications’ denotes the practical use of scientific principles to meet specific societal needs and resolve real-world problems. This utilitarian aspect of science involves translating theoretical knowledge from foundational research into tangible, beneficial outcomes. The CESCR characterises applications as ‘the particular implementation of science to the specific concerns and needs of the population’,Footnote ²¹⁸ with the primary objective of discerning the most scientifically robust and effective means for applying existing knowledge; the emphasis lies thus not on developing new theoretical frameworks but on the practical application of current scientific discoveries – the foundation for applied science disciplines, including engineering, computer science and medicine.

In contrast, ‘technology’ is a more encompassing concept that integrates products, systems and methods derived from both foundational and applied scientific research. Oxford Reference defines it as ‘the application of scientific knowledge for practical purposes’.Footnote ²¹⁹ The Committee categorises technology as a subset of applied science and lists medical, industrial and agricultural applications, as well as information and communications technologies (ICTs), as examples.Footnote ²²⁰ Furthermore, the Committee cites the UNESCO definition of ‘technology’ from the Recommendation on Science and Scientific Researchers: it ‘signifies such knowledge as relates directly to the production or improvement of goods or services’.Footnote ²²¹ Thus, technology manifests as the material result of applying scientific principles, often through engineering or other applied disciplines. The chief concern here is practical utility, efficiency and scalability, as opposed to a rigid adherence to specific scientific tenets. Although technology leverages insights from both scientific knowledge and applied science, its focus is not on expanding these fields. From a sociological perspective, Merton posits that technology operates predominantly as a private venture, targeting the development of bespoke solutions to tangible, real-world issues. As such, its core objective is to address practical challenges, frequently with an eye towards financial profit.Footnote ²²²

The example of antibiotic production illustrates the distinction between the applications of science and technology. During the scientific process, researchers in the field of microbiology study the fundamental aspects of bacterial cells and how they grow and interact with their environment. Drawing upon insights gleaned from scientific research, applied scientists determine how specific substances can effectively inhibit bacterial growth, which ultimately leads to the development of antibiotics. Applied scientists run experiments, follow rigorous scientific methods and test how these antibiotics affect specific bacteria. Once an antibiotic has been successfully developed, technology is needed to mass produce and distribute the drug and create the systems for its administration to patients, which can entail engineering machinery for large-scale manufacturing, creating software systems for distribution and developing medical devices for precise dosing.

A third concept warranting brief discussion is that of innovation. Although frequently cited alongside applications and technology, innovation is distinct and can complement both. Innovation encompasses the introduction and execution of fresh ideas or methodologies and their subsequent translation into ground-breaking technologies. UNESCO’s Recommendation on Science and Scientific Researchers explicitly separates technology and innovation.Footnote ²²³ The CESCR emphasises the importance of accessing innovations,Footnote ²²⁴ which underscores the significance of innovations in an era marked by the commercialisation of science.Footnote ²²⁵ The question of innovativeness is especially pertinent in the context of IP. The innovative element within a process, knowledge base, application or technology might render it eligible for patenting, provided it is suitable for industrial use. An innovation’s patent confers exclusive rights upon the holder, allowing them to prevent others from commercially exploiting the patented innovation, an exclusivity that can ultimately be at odds with the right to science.

Innovation is not a prerequisite for the inclusion of technology or applications within the right to science. At this point, one must challenge a common misconception about what constitutes technology in the scope of the right to science. Our understanding of technology should not be narrow. Significant disparities in access to technology between the most and least privileged persons can lead to a distorted understanding of technology as limited to the latest and most ‘cutting-edge’ innovations, such as sophisticated smartphones or gene therapy. For vulnerable groups, however, the technologies that matter most may be more basic, perhaps decades old, such as indoor electricity for lighting, running water and sanitation in homes or oral rehydration salts for treating acute gastrointestinal illness.Footnote ²²⁶ These technologies, now integral to everyday life, originated from human creativity aimed at addressing distinct challenges and have markedly enhanced and preserved numerous lives. The effectiveness of the right to science for marginalised groups thus depends on a broad and inclusive conceptualisation of technology. This approach should include both everyday technologies and contemporary innovations and emphasise the importance of not ignoring technologies that, far from being outdated, remain vital to everyday life. Menstrual products, such as sanitary pads, tampons and menstrual cups, are prime examples of this expanded definition of technology. These items transcend their role as health products and represent technology in a deeper sense.Footnote ²²⁷ This perspective is consistent with a teleological interpretation of technology, advocating a holistic understanding that blends traditional and novel solutions. As creations born of human ingenuity to meet specific needs, menstrual products vividly embody this broad view of technology.

f The Role of Science in Forming Critical and Responsible Citizens for Democratic Participation

In addition to the material and immaterial benefits of science, the Committee recognises a third benefit of science: its role in ‘forming critical and responsible citizens who are able to participate fully in a democratic society’.Footnote ²²⁸ This benefit transcends the mere acquisition of knowledge or practical applications and ventures into the cultivation of a citizenry that is well informed, analytical and able to navigate the intricacies of modern societies. Such skills are increasingly important in an era characterised by infodemics, widespread disinformation and post-truth politics.

Science inherently promotes questioning, scepticism and the systematic testing of hypotheses, a methodological approach instrumental in developing critical thinking skills. Citizens equipped with these skills are better positioned to analyse information, assess its validity and make informed decisions. In democratic societies, these capabilities are essential for the electorate to effectively scrutinise policies, political assertions and media reports, thereby enriching the quality of democratic engagement. Moreover, science – far from being devoid of values – often forefronts ethical questions and dilemmas. By engaging with these issues, citizens develop an acute awareness of ethical considerations, a critical attribute in democracies where balancing diverse and sometimes conflicting values and interests is a constant necessity, both personally and electorally (see Sections 5.4.1.1e and f).

A scientifically literate citizenry is also more able to participate in political debates, particularly on topics where science and technology are central, such as climate change, health care and data protection. Understanding the scientific underpinnings of these issues allows for more meaningful contributions to public discourse and a more robust level of accountability for policymakers. Given the rapid pace of scientific and technological progress, the public must adapt to change. The process of science education is central to preparing individuals for lifelong learning, a necessity as democracies face new challenges and opportunities in an increasingly globalised world.