NIH Inches Forward To Boost Ranks Of Black Scientists

Minorities at the agency work largely on their own to help their peers land high-level science jobs BETHESDA, Md.--Ron King wants to find a cure for Alzheimer's disease. But King, an intramural research fellow in the laboratory of molecular biology at the National Institutes of Health's National Institute for Neurological Disorders and Stroke, thinks that it's even more important to encourage other blacks to enter science fields. That's why he takes precious time out from his work in the lab to visit local high schools, invite students onto the NIH campus, and talk at national meetings of minority students. "This is what will change the future," he says simply about his vol- unteer recruiting efforts. "It's just something that I have to do if I want to be able to look at myself in the mirror every morning." King is one of a handful of black scientists on the NIH campus working to improve the odds that a black teenager will decide to study science and one day, perhaps, even work in a lab or office next door. Another is Michele Evans of the National Cancer Institute (NCI), who spends three days a week doing research in the medical branch of the Division of Cancer Treatment and the other two days as a special assistant to NCI director Samuel Broder in charge of minority initiatives. Evans says she's willing to pay the price of 80-hour work weeks if that's what it takes to attract more blacks into biomedical research. "If your goal is to try and increase the number of minority scientists on campus, it doesn't make sense to take a scientist out of the lab and turn them into an administrative person. That's self-defeating," says Evans, who came to NCI's intramural program in 1986 as a clinical associate and began working part-time in Broder's office in July 1989. Biologist John Ruffin wasn't looking for a job when he heard about NIH's decision to create the post of associate director for minority programs. "I already had a job, and it was a good one," says the 47-year-old Ruffin about his former duties as dean of the College of Arts and Sciences at North Carolina Central University. "I applied because I saw the opportunity to do something on a broader scale than serving the students of NC Central." For a long time, Ruffin admits, he was driven by a different goal: the need to prove that he, as a black scientist, could flourish in the largely white world of biomedical research. >From his undergraduate days at Dillard University in New Orleans to graduate studies at Atlanta University and Kansas State University and, finally, to a postdoc at Harvard University, Ruffin was moving farther and farther away from a predominantly black setting. "I guess that I was testing myself all the time," he says. "When you're at a minority institution you hear that you need to test yourself at a major majority institution. So I did that." After a while, he says, that need to prove himself disappeared. And its departure allowed him to come back to his roots. "As a minority, when you do those kinds of things and you succeed, you stop questioning yourself," he says. "And there's a feeling of satisfaction that you get, I can tell you." That feeling brought him back to a predominantly black institution, where he took a faculty position and later moved into administration. And although he had never worked at NIH, when he heard about its search for someone to oversee minority programs he felt that he already knew a lot about the job. "NIH has been an integral part of my own development," he says. "I had an MBRS [Minority Biomedical Research Support] grant while I was teaching at Atlanta U., and I went to Harvard as a MARC [Minority Access to Research Careers] postdoctoral fellow. And when I left Harvard I became a member of the initial review group for the MARC program. So I grew up with many of the programs that are paying the greatest attention to many of the minority issues here at NIH." Three months into his new job, Ruffin says that he has a lot more to learn about what's going on at NIH. But he's already leaning toward a new approach to minority programs. "In the past," Ruffin says, "NIH has formulated a program and, in effect, told people, `Here's what we're going to fund. Do you fit?' What I'm saying is that we need to solicit suggestions from an outside advisory group, asking them what they think is needed. Then we can come up with creative solutions that meet people's needs instead of asking them to fit into something we've developed." --J.M. To many scientists, the efforts of King and Evans may seem quixotic. Both researchers know that their efforts to increase the pool of minority scientists won't win them tenure, their top professional priority. "I know that I'm walking on thin ice," says Evans. "I just have to have faith, if I fall flat on my face, that my bosses aren't going to sweep me out into the middle of Rockville Pike [on which NIH is located] and say, `Well, it was nice having you here. But you need to find a job somewhere else.' " King, Evans, and their colleagues also face an enormous challenge. In 1986, the General Accounting Office (GAO) in a report criticized NIH's affirmative action efforts, concluding that the agency "does not fully meet federal requirements" and that its "noncompliance may have contributed to the continued underrepresentation of minorities and women." For years the House of Representatives panel that controls the agency's budget has prodded NIH officials to do more, most recently this past summer, with a legislative request for NIH "to develop a long-range approach to increase employment of underrepresented minorities." The plan is due before next spring's budget hearings. As reported in the first part of this series (Nov. 26, 1990, page 1), black scientists at NIH feel the institutes have erected a variety of impediments to the recruitment, retention, and promotion of underrepresented minority scientists. From not looking for talented minorities to discouraging the ones they have from staying, they say, NIH has failed to make the issue a priority. It's not that NIH has totally ignored the problem, however. The agency has a five-year plan, adopted in 1987 and modified the next year, that calls on all institutes "to aggressively and responsibly undertake actions to improve the recruitment, hiring, retention, and career development of underrepresented populations," including blacks. But that plan is limited to those job categories "where it has been determined that a conspicuous absence or manifest imbalance exists." Moreover, black scientists at NIH, who have seen similar plans over the years, question whether the present directive is more in the nature of bureaucratic kowtowing than genuine commitment to the cause. "I've been here since 1958," says Barbara Bynum, director of extramural activities for NCI, "and there have been many changes at the top. Each director has put his stamp on the place. But I don't think that any one of them can be characterized as having insisted upon emphasizing the issue of recruiting and retaining underrepresented minority scientists at NIH." Affirmative action plans are useless, says David Satcher, president of Meharry Medical College in Nashville, Tenn., unless they go beyond platitudes and set goals that are real and significant. "They may have compiled a lot of material," says Satcher, "but does it say anywhere how many black branch chiefs they plan to hire? That's what needed if you want to bring about real change." NIH officials admit that it would take a massive, long-term effort by the entire agency to increase the numbers of black scientists. "I don't think that anyone would say there are adequate numbers in either the intramural or extramural programs. That's a given, and it won't be easy to fix," says John Diggs, NIH deputy director for extramural research. However, within the agency's current administrative structure, such front-line troops as King and Evans labor under severe handicaps. For one thing, each scientist operates independently. In addition, none devotes full time to the task. And, finally, their successes are limited to the program or institute for which they work. Levon Parker says he has learned to live with those restraints. As the equal employment opportunity officer for the National Institute for Neurological Diseases and Stroke (NINDS), Parker is supposed to ensure that all minority employees are treated fairly. But since leaving the intramural bench in 1973, Parker has also taken on the task of attracting talented black scientists to NIH. One prize recruit was Diggs, whom Parker reeled into the extramural program 16 years ago as a biochemist and who in June was named to oversee the agency's $5 billion-a-year grants program. "When I first took the [EEO] job, I was more concerned about black employment at NIH, such things as technicians getting promoted and clerks being hired," says Parker, who was one of a few intramural black scientists when he came to NIH in 1962. "It was only later that I started to look at the big picture." Part of the difficulty in effecting system-wide change stems from the autonomy given to each of the 13 institutes that constitute the NIH. It is an article of faith among top NIH officials that excellence is best achieved if each institute is allowed to tailor its programs and budgets to the needs of the community it serves, be it cardiovascular research, neuroscience, or infectious diseases. Even Broder, whose agency is at the forefront of efforts on behalf of minorities (see accompanying story), defends the principle. "It's healthy to have different approaches," he says. "There's no one right way of doing it, and part of the strength of the NIH is the opportunity to test ideas within a particular community." Yet that autonomy also makes it extremely difficult for NIH to act decisively and with one voice on an issue--like attracting and retaining black scientists--that cuts across disciplines. Over time, autonomy also has contributed to a situation that "has made NIH the leading example within the federal government of how not to operate an effective affirmative action program," says Elward Bynum, the first and only director of NIH's 15-year-old Minority Access to Research Careers (MARC) program and another rare bird when he joined NIH in 1958 as a biologist. But there are signs that NIH has decided to more actively address the issue. An example of that new approach is the hiring in August of biologist John Ruffin to become the first associate director for minority programs at NIH (see Close-Up). Ruffin has both received support from NIH-funded programs for minority scientists and been a faculty adviser to students in the programs. Ruffin, who reports to the NIH director, says that his job is twofold: to increase the numbers of underrepresented minorities going into science, and to improve the overall health of minority populations. He admits that it's a tall order, especially given the size--three people, including himself--of his staff. His role, he says, will be to serve as "a liaison" between NIH officials and the extramural minority community and to be "a good listener" to anyone with suggestions on how to expand minority participation. Past efforts to assist minorities have been hampered by the lack of such a visible post, says Sandra Howard, an aide to Rep. Louis Stokes (D-Ohio). Stokes requested the GAO report and peppers NIH officials with questions each spring about minority participation as a member of the appropriations subcommittee that sets NIH's budget. "We have high hopes for that office," Howard says. "As an associate director, Ruffin will have the authority and the wherewithal to coordinate all minority programs. [NIH officials] have talked about it for a number of years, and Mr. Stokes couldn't understand why they didn't move ahead earlier." Ruffin says that he is working up a management plan for his office that will include a proposed budget. NIH deputy director Diggs says he expects the office to have as much as $10 million to spend in 1991. "There will be dollars in that office, and that individual will have the opportunity to utilize those dollars in a fashion that will best promote the goals and objectives of the office," Diggs says. Black scientists on campus are considerably less optimistic about Ruffin's potential impact. They say that his status, as part of the extramural program, will give him little or no voice in how the intramural program operates. They argue that such an office needs to have authority over existing programs that serve minorities if it wants to bring about real change. And they suggest that an outsider will need time to learn where the real power lies at NIH. "This is a position that has never existed before," says Ida Owens, a genetics researcher at the National Institute of Child Health and Human Development (NICHD) and a 19-year veteran of the NIH intramural program. "It might make a difference. But sometimes they give these guys a desk and they never want to hear from them again. If I were in that position, I'd make sure that they gave me the authority to ask institute directors to set up a schedule of bringing in people that included targets for minority scientists." NCI's Bynum says that Ruffin is most likely to succeed if he is seen as a significant player in setting policies and allocating resources. "The extent to which Dr. Ruffin will have, and will be perceived as having, authority must be conveyed by the director of the NIH," she says. "It must be conveyed unambiguously, and it must be accompanied by assurances that his decisions and programs have the support of the NIH director. Without having that authority invested in him, I think that Dr. Ruffin will be as tinkling brass." A second example of the more forceful approach that NIH is taking to the problem of the dearth of black scientists on campus is an outside study, now under way, of the staff fellowship programs. Those programs, for Ph.D.'s and M.D.'s in civilian service and as commissioned officers, are the chief vehicles for filling scientific positions within the intramural program, noted acting NIH director William Raub in a report last year on the agency's affirmative action efforts. The study of the fellows program was called for under NIH's affirmative action plan. It is being conducted by Henderson Adelphi Group, a minority-owned consulting firm in Washington, and it is expected to be completed by next spring. "The review will focus on the recruitment, selection, promotion, conversion, retention ... of minorities, with a special emphasis on blacks," explained Diane Armstrong, the director of the Division of Equal Opportunity at NIH, in a July memo to top agency administrators. The study, say those familiar with it, will pay particular attention to the difficulty that black scientists face in being "converted" to permanent slots within NIH labs. "We've been slack in getting minority scientists to the point of conversion," says Gene Spruill of NIH's Division of Personnel Management. "So part of the study will try to find out what activities might preclude them from being converted." The number and quality of publications are thought to be the major criteria in the competition for scarce permanent slots, Spruill says. Only about 5 percent of the hundreds of fellows who enter each year achieve that goal within the stipulated seven years. But the contractor also is looking into what Spruill calls "other factors," issues ranging from financial considerations to outright prejudice. The problem of conversion rates is not a new one. Black Ph.D.'s who have won permanent slots are rare at NIH, and black M.D.'s had been completely shut out until Griffin Rodgers of the National Institute of Diabetes and Digestive and Kidney Disorders broke the barrier last summer. While low conversion rates are not restricted to minority scientists, says Diggs, the dilemma of where to start a career looms larger for them because of the opportunities that exist here. "Any scientist who comes to NIH has to know that there are only so many career slots," says Diggs. "But the track record of NIH in converting minority staff fellows to career slots has been poor. And if one has the choice of coming to NIH as a staff fellow or going to a university, where it is more likely that he or she would get some long-term support, then that institution might have the edge. And it's been difficult, without having a sufficient number of role models, to suggest that NIH will do better." Some who seek increased opportunities for black scientists see the study as a small but tangible sign that NIH is taking the issue more seriously. "We didn't ask specifically for this study," says House aide Howard. "But there's been a change of leadership at NIH. And maybe Dr. Raub is more committed to moving ahead on some of these issues than previous directors have been." But the agency has tried before, without much success, to attract black scientists onto its payroll.The most significant effort, according to NIH observers, occurred in the early 1970s at a handful of NIH institutes. Additional slots were created, minorities were targeted for special recruitment, and scientists were encouraged to broaden the pool in which they fished for talent. But, by all accounts, the efforts had little effect in the long run on the numbers of black scientists. "There was a real effort made then," recalls Charles Lowe, a white scientist who works in the NICHD director's office. "We had encounter sessions, language training. We learned to drop certain words, and there was an increased sensitivity toward minority issues. And we recruited three or four scientists, too. But the problem, then as now, is that the numbers were never very large." NICHD's Owens was one of those scientists. "NIH went through a brief moment of that, and I was one of those brought in," she recalls. "But since then there's been no follow-up. That interest has faded." One way to change attitudes and patterns is to make such behavior mandatory. NCI's Bynum remembers how, in the early 1970s, NIH officials realized that the pool of scientists reviewing grant applications did not include enough minorities and women. Officials solved the problem by setting, and enforcing, numerical targets. "Every executive secretary who ran a study section sought diligently to identify these groups," she says. "And we did it with the understanding that we simply were not able, not permitted, not allowed, to forward a slate of nominees unless it contained such individuals." That effort worked, say black scientists, in part because it treated these new reviewers no differently from the existing pool of reviewers. In contrast, most say, set-aside programs for minorities are a bad idea because they impose a stigma on those who participate in them. Kenneth Olden, director of the Howard University Cancer Center and a former NIH intramural scientist, recalls how he joined molecular biologist Ira Pastan's lab at NCI in 1973, around the same time a half-dozen other black scientists were recruited by the cancer agency as staff fellows. He was the only one who received tenure, he says, and he believes part of the reason was that the other scientists were seen as members of a special class. "They got labeled as the minority track," he says, "with the expectation that they satisfied some quota. And after two or three years they were all gone. The issue was commitment [to increasing opportunities for black scientists], and from day 1 the NCI and its lab chiefs never sustained that commitment." At the same time, most black scientists say that there's nothing wrong with a focused effort to attract more minorities at all levels within NIH. Diggs says that some of his colleagues think the NIH should not try to recruit from such preeminent black medical schools as Howard or Meharry because "it might drain talent away from the places where it is most needed." But, he says, "I happen to feel that there is enough talent to go around, and that the choice [of where to work] should be left to the individual." There's another, obvious reason for recruiters to go to black institutions, says NINDS's King, who has a ready answer to those who complain that they "can't find any" black scientists to hire. "The first thing I ask them is, `Where did you look?' A lot of labs like to preserve their reputation for excellence by recruiting only from Harvard, Yale, Stanford, and Berkeley. But if you're looking for hens, you've got to go to the hen house." Taking such an elitist attitude puts NIH at a disadvantage compared with many private firms, he says. "A company like Procter & Gamble has an aggressive recruitment effort," says King, who spent three years as a postdoc at Merck & Co. Inc. in Rahway, N.J., before coming to NIH in 1988. "They go down every quarter to black universities like Southern [in Baton Rouge, La.] and recruit the best talent they can find. Meanwhile, NIH is sitting back and waiting for people to come to them. I think part of it is ego, that they're so good that they don't have to work at it." Ironically, it may be an NIH program for the extramural community that offers the best hope for permanent improvement in the numbers of black scientists at the agency. The MARC program has provided research support to some 2,000 promising minority students preparing for careers in biomedical research. And its director, Elward Bynum, predicts that their eventual impact on the system will outweigh any single action that NIH takes. "We are supporting some very bright individuals who will be very intent on gaining influential positions wherever they go," he says. "My hope is that these individuals will not do what was done to them, but instead will try to provide opportunities for others, regardless of their background." If they fail, he says, the outlook is bleak. "We don't have many replacements out there for people like me, my wife, John Diggs, and the handful of other black scientists who have worked their way up through the ranks. And we don't have anyone who's raising hell, who's walking around saying that we must do things differently."

NIH Inches Forward To Boost Ranks Of Black Scientists

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