On Censorship, Comfort, and Genocide

Recently, I attended the AIchemy and Leverhulme Research Centre Conference 2026. The conference, which focused on the intersection between chemistry and so-called "artificial intelligence" ("AI"), was held in Liverpool, United Kingdom (UK) from June 29-30. I was invited to give a talk, which was supposed to be on the ethics of "AI" in science and chemistry.

However, I was unable to present. Shortly before I was scheduled to begin, my talk was withdrawn; I was censored by the organizers for political reasons. I'm writing this blog post to explain what happened, starting from my motivations in attending the conference and structuring my talk as I did, going into why my talk was cancelled (and why the given reasons are illegitimate and unacceptable), and finally discussing what should have been done instead of censoring me. In addition to writing this essay, I've recorded and uploaded my presentation (here) basically as I intended to give it. ^[1] This not only ensures that the research content is available for all those interested in listening to it but also allows you, as readers/watchers/listeners, to judge the political content of the talk for yourselves.

Some important notes: I am intentionally being vague about who made decisions, who spoke with me, etc. There's a legitimate argument to be made for "naming and shaming", but I wouldn't be comfortable if any discussion about what happened became personal. I'll also note that I am mostly avoiding exact quotes, partly because I don't think the exact ordering of words is critical for the points I'm making, and partly because I have a notoriously bad memory. If I recall something incorrectly and someone else involved wants to correct me (exposing themselves in the process), they're welcome to.

Context: Why I Said Yes, and What I Was Going to Say

When I was given the invitation to speak at the AIchemy/Leverhulme conference, I initially wasn't sure if I should attend. There were the general considerations (Is it worth the time? Is it worth the greenhouse gas emissions?), and there was also the element of the conference theme. It shouldn't surprise anyone familiar with me or my publication record to know that I'm radically opposed to the "AI" movement, by which I mean the effort to force "AI" into every technology, every social space, to replace human labor and human thinking with (usually) stochastic next-token predictors, i.e., large language models. I'm often skeptical and critical of so-called "AI" for science, though I do use machine learning and data science in my own research. Given these positions, was there really a place for me in an "AI"-focused conference?

I brought the question to the CoReACTER, and we discussed. Through that dialogue and subsequent reflection, I came to the conclusion that I should attend. I'd talk about my recent-ish work on the scientific and chemcial ethics of large machine learning models, ^[2] which would hopefully open a discussion on ethics, on whether we should be making certain datasets or building certain models or running certain high-throughput experiments, rather than only discussing whether and how we can. I submitted an abstract for a talk titled "Caution & Care: Practicing Ethical Chemistry in an Era of 'AI'", and life went on.

As the conference grew nearer, I continued thinking about my decision. In the time since I had submitted my abstract, the UK's ironically named Equality and Human Rights Commission (EHRC) had released an updated Code of Practice document ^[3] reflecting the UK Supreme Court's 2025 decision ^[4] which found that sex is defined on a purely biological basis. This Code of Practice is the latest step in an ongoing and intensitying genocide ^{[5] [6]} against transgender and intersex people – a genocide that, as an out and often visible trans femme, puts me personally in danger whenever I cross the border into the UK. ^[7]

At the time, my fear for my physical safety was not so severe that I felt the need to withdraw my talk or not attend the conference. However, it felt essential to me to recognize that the same government paying for this conference, paying for my flight and hotel and meals, wanted me and those like me socially and/or physically dead. I felt that I had an obligation to speak up and acknowledge what was happening in my talk. I had to try to shake mostly-comfortable scientists mostly living in the UK into action.

It is worth noting the role that context played in this decision. If I had been presenting in Ireland (or really anywhere else), would I have felt the need to talk about the UK's anti-trans genocide? No, probably not. There aren't many situations where it's inappropriate to discuss injustice, but I wouldn't have felt the same degree of urgency and moral responsibility. Similarly, I might not have made the choice I did to speak out had I not been an invited speaker. Being invited meant having a platform, having power and privilege. As my fellow ReACTERs know, I'm fundamentally uncomfortable holding individual power, but when I hold it, I believe that it's my duty to use it for good. Given a platform (especially a platform provided indirectly by a genocidal state), it would have been irresponsible for me to stick narrowly to the contents of my journal articles.

Once I had decided to speak up, the principle of solidarity urged me further. I believe in that protest chant, "One struggle, one fight". I believe that, while everyone can have their own areas of focus, and while no one can be reasonably expected to hold all of the problems of the world in their head or in their heart, activism should not be siloed into narrow single issues. If I was going to speak out about one genocide, I would need to speak out about another. The genocide against Palestinians ^[8] is quite different from the genocide against trans and intersex people (as is the UK government's role in the two genocides ^[9]). At the same time, these two genocides are linked, our struggles for liberation intertwined. I realized that I must include Palestine in my presentation, too.

The Conversation

I arrived at the conference late on the first day, June 29. After I checked in, I chatted with one of the staff managing the conference, who reminded me to send her my slides. During a break, I read through them one final time and submitted them.

A few hours later, somewhere around one hour before my talk was set to begin, I was pulled aside by one of the conference organizers. They ^[10] apologized and told me that they had a concern about my presentation. Knowing the severe responses taken in the UK to Palestine solidarity activism, ^[11] I immediately guessed that this was about my slide on genocide.

I was right. Though there was apparently no issue discussing anti-trans genocide, mentioning Palestine was considered unacceptable. Two reasons were given, both of which I discuss in somewhat greater detail below: 1) mention of the Palestinian genocide might upset Israeli participants in the conference; and 2) the participants came to AIchemy/Leverhulme to discuss science, not politics.

The organizer asked if I would be willing to give my presentation with that one slide removed. I declined. I could not give my presentation in good conscience, I said, without at least a small statement of recognition. Though I did not say this, I also thought: I cannot fail in my solidarity by acknowledging one genocide and being silent on another. If my mention of Palestine was unacceptable, AIchemy/Leverhulme would have to cancel my talk.

This was clearly not the outcome that the organizer wanted, so they changed tactics. The organizer offered some compromises, and we negotiated for a time. They suggested I remove the text and images from my slide and mention Palestine without a visual aid. I accepted this offer; I had memorized what I wanted to say, and though slides can help with accessibility, I felt that I could rely on my voice alone if needed. They also suggested that I might move the genocide acknowledgment to the end of the talk. This, too, I accepted, though I was legitimately confused how they thought that would make anyone any less uncomfortable. Finally, I suggested that, prior to my talk, this organizer or some other conference leader could make a statement clearly indicating that my speech did not reflect the views of AIchemy/Leverhulme. This, the conference organizer rejected by saying that they could not speak on behalf of the sponsoring organizations.

Actually, by the end of the conversation, the organizer rejected all of their own compromises, too. Even though I was willing to restructure my slides to appease them, they said that my talk would have to be cancelled. I accepted this – I had no intention to cause a scene – but I pushed back on two points. First, I wanted the organizer to concede that they were censoring me, which they did (at least within our private conversation). Second, I insisted that the organizer explain to the audience why my talk had been cancelled. On this point, I felt that the organizer once again failed me – to my admittedly flawed recollection, the statement was something vague about my talk being withdrawn because it contained "political statements", with no specific mention of the content nor a public acknowledgment of censorship – but it was better than nothing, and it at least sent participants in my direction to hear my perspective and discuss my research on chemical "AI" ethics.

I took some time to process and ease my righteous anger, and the conference went on.

Genocide Should Make You Uncomfortable

There are, in my view, very few legitimate reasons to censor an academic talk. I would probably disagree with nearly any reason that the AIchemy/Leverhulme organizer(s) gave me to justify their decision (not least of which because I'm biased; I really did want to present). But they gave me two reasons, and I feel the need to contest these, specifically.

First, let us consider the justification that the idea that a mention of the Palestinian genocide, perpetrated by the Israeli government with the backing of Western powers including the UK and the United States of America (USA), might upset or offend Israeli scientists. I could choose to dismiss this out of hand. By the admission of the organizer, they were not aware of any Israelis in the audience (and I certainly didn't meet any over the course of the event), so it's very possible that this supposed concern was purely hypothetical.

Even if there were Israelis in the room, it is wholly wrongheaded to censor my political speech to avoid their discomfort. I was not choosing to mention some petty political disagreement, causing potential embarrassment or controversy needlessly, and I was not slandering the Israeli government, let alone the Israeli people. I intended to speak about a well-documented campaign of annihilation which even the United Nations has officially labeled as a genocide. ^[12] If any hypothetical Israeli was upset by my speech, they would be upset about reality.

And they should be. The genocide against the Palestinian people should make Israeli scientists uncomfortable. It should make all Israelis uncomfortable, as it should make all people, all moral actors uncomfortable. It should break their hearts and inspire them to radical action.

I say this with empathy and some degree of personal understanding. I am a white American. My ancestors were some of the original colonizers of Turtle Island, ^[13] what is colonially known as the USA. I have been witness to the ongoing harms of settler-colonialism and genocide, and as a privileged white American, I have been complicit and furthered these harms. I have not come close to doing enough to fight against the ongoing genocide against the Indigenous peoples of Turtle Island and to provide reparations for the harms that my ancestors and I have committed, but I continue to learn, grow, and (attempt to) help and fight settler-colonial genocidal violence because I know that I have a moral responsibility to do so. Though it has often been deeply uncomfortable, I am grateful to have been and to continue to be confronted with the reality of genocide (among other injustices), to be shaken into action. And if any (non-Indigenous) American, especially a white American, ever came to me and told me that they didn't want to be confronted with the reality of anti-Indigenous genocide, I would say to them exactly what I am saying now: that to close your eyes in the face of abject evil is an immense privilege that you cannot and should not be afforded.

Science Is Political

The second justification for censoring me was, in effect, that science and politics should be kept separate, that scientific meetings should be about scientific results and not about the sociopolitical realities that exist outside of our places of work. This, too, I find unacceptable. Setting aside the moral angle – that is, is it right or wrong to separate research from politics – I will challenge the underlying assumption: that such a separation is even possible.

Let me begin by pointing out that, even within the AIchemy/Leverhulme conference, presentations discussed highly political topics. They weren't even particularly rare. Prof. Christopher Künneth discussed biodegradable plastics, related to the widely discussed (and often politically debated ^[14]) ecological crisis of plastic waste. ^[15] Prof. Elena Besley motivated her discussion of biogas via the (political) project to transition the UK's transportation energy towards renewable fuels. ^[16] Prof. Kevin Rossi discussed extreme poverty and science's role in maintaining and improving human quality of life. Prof. Donna Blackmond emphasized her work on an all-woman research team – contributing to the ongoing, transdisciplinary movement for gender equality and, more specifically, the effort to increase the number of women engaged in science, technology, engineering, and mathematics at all levels. I could go on.

One might try and quibble that these topics aren't really political. But that's precisely the point. As scientists, we contort ourselves so that we can view our work as apolitical, as neutral – after all, we're meant to be objective! – while, in reality, we're wading through politics all the time. I will go so far as to say that basically everything that we do as scientists is political, from the questions we ask and our methodologies to the way we build our teams and communicate our findings. Thankfully, I'm far from alone in saying that. ^[17] We try to deny the role of politics in our research, and, in this one small way, the politicians and political agents may be more honest than we are. They acknowledge that science is politics, and that's why they increasingly seek to manipulate scientific research agendas to meet political goals. ^[18]

When I'm told to keep politics out of science, what's really being said is "Keep your politics out of science". And if the only politics that need to be kept out are Palestinian solidarity politics, well... perhaps that merits some deep reflection.

What Should Have Happened

Hopefully, I've made it clear that I don't think AIchemy/Leverhulme should have cancelled my talk. But what else should have happened? What could they have done?

If the AIchemy/Leverhulme organizers were sincerely worried about their participants' comfort (beyond the sensitivities of a hypothetical Israeli delegation), they could have done a lot more. While I will credit the conference staff for making the event accessible in certain ways, like providing food options for folks with a variety of dietary restrictions, in other areas, the staff seemed to be thoughtless. Speaking from my own experience as a transgender person, at no point was I consulted about my physical safety, wellbeing, or my ability to access key services (for instance, gender-segregated public restrooms).

If the organizers were worried about conflict emerging as a result of speakers' talks (which, I acknowledge, they may not have thought of before they saw my slides), they could have prepared by, for instance, including space for facilitated group dialogue in the conference schedule. Science, I hope we can all agree, is no stranger to controversy (though I would put forward that speaking out against genocide truly should not be controversial), and it is the job of conference organizers to manage such controversy, not hide it or prevent it from happening.

Conclusions

While I was hurt and angry, at first, when my talk was censored and cancelled, I now view this as an opportunity. If my talk had continued as planned, my words may have reached 100 or so researchers in one conference room. While I have some small hope that my ideas will reach the AIchemy/Leverhulme organizers and that they will change their approach to political content in scientific discussions going forward, this is no longer just about them or about the AIchemy/Leverhulme conference.

With this, I hope to bring my small call to action to a larger audience. As I wanted to say in Liverpool: Our ethical obligations as chemical scientists do not end at the lab door. What are you doing? What are you doing to fight against the "gender-critical" movement ^[19] and ongoing anti-trans genocides not only in the UK but also in the USA and elsewhere? What are you doing to support the Palestinian people and to end their total annihilation by the settler-colonial Israeli government? The stakes are high; these two crises, among many in our present polycrisis, are matters of life and death.

I also hope to create a dialogue about science, politics, and censorship. What do we want our meetings to be? Do we, as a community, really want them to be sanitized bubbles, averting our eyes from the harms happening all around us? What lengths are we willing to go to to maintain the lie that science is apolitical, neutral? Who are we willing to hurt, to toss aside, for that lie? What evils are we willing to tolerate for the privileged and the powerful? These are questions that we must all ask ourselves, but especially those in positions of authority – institutional leaders, senior academics, journal editors, and conference organizers, to name a few.

I know where I stand, how I would answer these questions. What about you?

Footnotes