I Turned in My Mentor

Although it is painful to recount, I think it will be beneficial to share my experiences as a whistle blower—in my case, a postdoctoral fellow who had the “audacity” to commit such an act against his mentor. I arrived at Case Western Reserve Univer sity in Cleveland in 1979 to do a postdoctoral fellowship in the laboratory of Philip W. Lambert an endocrine researcher. My first year of research went well and I was awarded a National Research Service Award from the National Institutes of Health. However, I was also becoming increasingly concerned about Lambert’s research into the synthesis of a vitamin D derivative— work that involved extensive knowledge of organic chemistry that he lacked—and the results he was reporting. I approached his superiors with my concerns, and all but one, Bernard A. Roos, ignored my warnings and were quite displeased with me. Because of these rebuffs and other ongoing problems, I decided to leave the laboratory in 1981, at which time I secured a tenure-track position in the Department of nutrition at the university At that time I received a Research Career Development Award and accompanying ROl research grant from NIH. A short time later, I became greatly concerned because Lambert was including my name on research publications in which I had not participated. In early 1982, acting out of total frustration, I let it be known at a national meeting that I had not participated in this particular phase of Lambert’s research and thus could not attest to the data or results. At this time, things really hit the fan, and the university became involved. Lambert promptly insisted on being investigated to clear his name, and a number of his superiors supported him. These same superiors made it clear to me that I would pay dearly for the “character assassination” of Lambert. The university investigation continued into 1983. As one might imagine, I was soon pulled into the fray together with Roos, as conspirators in the very research we had been questioning all along. The investigation by the committee, which included two outside experts, was a travesty of ethical behavior. A few of its actions deserve special mention. The committee blamed Lambert, Roos and myself equally for the inept research practices in Lambert’s laboratory. It also evaluated and condemned raw research data without giving me the opportunity to defend it in person.. When important conflicts in testimony occurred, the committee failed to contact individuals who could (and later at my request did) resolve the conflicts. In the end, the committee basically proclaimed a death sentence in science for Lambert, Roos and myself. On the recommendation of the dean, the university’s president gave me the mandatory one-year notice that my academic appointment would be terminated. Soon after, together with my department chairwoman, who was very supportive of me, I met with university officials to determine my exact culpability in the whole affair. Their response was “Dr. Hollis, you are a good scientist. However, you failed to alert us soon enough to the questionable research activities of Dr. Lambert.” I nearly fainted. Until this point, in mid-1984, NIH had not been involved. That was soon to change. In July 1984, bits of the story began to appear in the Cleveland Plain Dealer. The university administration “suggested” that all parties not speak with the media. In August, it became clear the newspaper had the entire 1,000-page transcript of the investigation. The only ones with access to it were the members of the investigative committee, all of whom denied doing the heroic deed. As a result, Lambert, Roos and I were crucified by the Cleveland media. The university acted to protect itself, but not us. This public humiliation was the worst experience of my life. But because of the media coverage, NIH got involved and did its own investigation. Roos and I were cleared of any wrongdoing and were thanked for our cooperation. NIH also restricted any future funding for Lambert. News of the NIH report never appeared in the Cleveland media. The university soon hired me back; I then resigned and took up my current position. Had it not been for NIH, my scientific career would have permanently ended in Cleveland. Why does scientific fraud occur? The answer is twofold, but simple. In younger people, it is for quick recognition and the chance to obtain a relatively rare tenuretrack academic appointment. In older, established scientists it is a matter of egomania and the quest for self-gratification. We in the scientific community propagate this kind of behavior by giving endless awards for “excellence” in research, and thus feed these urges for self-gratification. The solution is complex, but a reduction in federal funding surely will not be part of it. It is also a fallacy that universities can police themselves in matters of this kind; universities tend to “circle the wagons” when faced with charges of scientific fraud. Although I am embarrassed to say this, I cannot recommend that junior scientists who discover scientific misconduct blow the whistle. That is, unless they want to experience immense personal suffering and a possible end to their scientific careers. Hollis is associate professor of pediatrics at the Medical University of South Carolina, 171 Ashley Ave., Charleston, SC 29425.

I Turned in My Mentor

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