Following Science Policy: The Play's the Thing

Reporting on the federal science funding process over the last year has been like watching a drama unfold. Especially since, after careful scrutiny, one gets the impression that the players--the legislators, the administrators, the activists, the lobbyists--can only really carry out their scripted roles. Curtains parted last fall to reveal a soaring economy and an unprecedented budget surplus. There was going to be a research bonanza, a renewed commitment to R&D. Even deficit hawks such as Sen. Phil Gramm (R-Texas) got into the act, cosponsoring resolutions supporting science. Congress was going to double the National Institutes of Health's budget over five years. Lawmakers were going to double all nondefense R&D over 10 years. In a dance of telecommunication choreography, aides of high-ranking members of the House and Senate flooded the fax machines of media outlets with press releases touting their support for science. Months of rhetoric and several budget deadline extensions later, the climax was, well, anticlimactic. The final figures represented modest gains overall, except for NIH and the National Science Foundation. Still, Congress stayed completely in character; making broad, ambitious proposals, then following up with compromises. In a State of the Union soliloquy, President Clinton hinted that a tobacco settlement was going to save the day for science. The script for his budget proposal for 1999 contained the details--major increases for R&D would be dependent, at least partially, on anticipated revenue from either a cash settlement with tobacco companies, increased cigarette taxes, or both. In his performance soon afterward, at the American Association for the Advancement of Science annual meeting, the president repeatedly told the 5,000 or so scientists gathered in Philadelphia about the importance of their work and the destructiveness of tobacco. Reporters (many of whom admitted to attending the speech solely to see how the president would hold up following the start of the Monica Lewinsky saga--a completely separate drama) duly noted that the presence of both topics in one speech was likely no coincidence. Several, playing the critic, noted afterward that the president was exceedingly good at selling his message. Even to a media-savvy bunch aware that multiple writers had probably worked on the speech and that consultants had likely weighed even the science jokes the president opened with, one thing was clear: the president, especially in person, excelled at saying exactly the right thing to a specialized group, and he appeared to do so naturally. That was his role, and he stayed completely in character. Indeed, he was a star. However, the bane of the tobacco industry, former Surgeon General C. Everett Koop, provided some foreboding foreshadowing. There wasn't going to be a "tobacco settlement," he said, with his characteristic bluntness, chiding a reporter for using a phrase he despised. ("Settlement," he said, implied immunity from civil prosecution for tobacco companies. And that simply wouldn't happen.) His words proved prophetic. Shortly afterward, Big Tobacco pulled out of a deal that would have injected hundreds of millions of dollars into federal coffers--some, ostensibly, for medical research. Next, maverick Sen. John McCain (R-Ariz.) stepped over party lines and into the spotlight by drafting legislation that, as President Clinton had proposed earlier--would raise cigarette taxes and use some of that revenue for research. The shadow of party loyalty suddenly dominated the stage. Some Republicans criticized President Clinton for earmarking nonexistent funds for research. Others found other faults in the bill. Tobacco companies launched an advertising blitz. This wasn't about smoking and sickness, the messages said. This was about freedom, about government piling on, hunting for funds from an unfairly maligned industry. Indeed, what could they have said then? For the finale, the legislation was voted down, almost evenly on party lines, Democrats for, Republicans against. McCain delivered an impassioned monologue and received an unusual standing ovation from the Democrats. Some of the same members of Congress who had earlier supported the idea of increasing science funding criticized legislation that could have done just that, with the unusual tack that the level of support was not enough, even though, obviously, something is more than nothing. Digging for an explanation from a supporter of earlier pro-science legislation who voted against the tobacco tax yielded only more press releases. Pressing even further merely produced a written statement from the politician's media specialist that was even vaguer than the earlier prepared statements. But, one could argue, that is exactly what a political media specialist is supposed to do when defending a potentially unpopular legislative decision. Throughout the drama, pro-science lobbyists in the pit produced a chorus cheering gains, bemoaning losses, staying positive. The observer may wonder if the lobbyists are secretly happy with potential back-to-back 8 percent-plus gains for NIH, for instance, even though the stated mission is for 15 percent a year over five years. But, if they are, they aren't talking. It wouldn't be in character. Now it's a different season, but with the same promises and premises. New resolutions supporting increased science funding have been trotted out. Pro-science lobbyists have continued talking up doubling NIH funding in five years. The president, doubtless, still thinks science is a Good Thing. However, there's nothing in the script so far to suggest a different ending than last year. Unless someone steps out of character. Paul Smaglik is an associate editor of The Scientist.

Following Science Policy: The Play's the Thing

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