Science Community Needs Its Conduct Rules To Be Explicit

Every day our personal interests come in conflict with the goals, missions, or rules of the institutions and groups to which we belong or are responsible. Most often we resolve these conflicts quickly and, if we fail in our responsibility, the repercussions are minor. As researchers, for example, we have all, at one time or another, chosen work over family (or vice versa). We balance these interests well or endure the consequences. Increasingly, however, scientists and social scientists are experiencing deeper, less easily resolved conflicts - as professional colleagues, grant recipients, faculty members, or employees. Our various responsibilities and our desire to succeed can conflict as we participate in peer review systems, advise industrial or government clients, or participate in investigations of alleged misconduct. Scientists have heretofore had the luxury of settling these local disputes among themselves in closed meetings of hand-picked committees. In the future, these will be national spectacles. Indeed, one fallout from the political attention being paid to fraud in science today is the public examination of professional conflicts of interest as a way to explain certain misdeeds. One signal of this trend toward the public airing of dirty laundry is the level of concern about fraud and misconduct shown in both professional society meetings and congressional hearings. At the January 1989 annual meeting of the American Association for the Advancement of Science, for example, a well-attended, lively session featured lawyers, physicians, and social and biological scientists, all grappling with the topic of conflict of interest. Vigorous interchange also occurred last spring in hearings in the House of Representatives. All these discussions emphasized two central questions: First, is conflict of interest built into the way researchers conduct their business? And secondly, are researchers experiencing more opportunities for conflict - or are they simply ill-equipped to deal with them? The way we evaluate and control information in the research system is rife with conflicts. In the peer review process, for example, science allows, indeed encourages, interested colleagues to act in a disinterested way. In its ideal form, peer review attempts to depersonalize what are exquisitely personal interactions. The review system, for both grants and journals, pits competitors for scarce resources against each other in interchangeable roles - proposers or would-be authors one moment, reviewers or referees the next. The business world admits that such circles of authority and influence are "interlocking directorates." But scientists tend to skim over these political conflicts and, instead, emphasize the positive aspects of peer review. Colleagues can, of course, judge the quality, merit, and promise of their peers fairly. Nevertheless, negotiations are always a zero-sum game: If you are funded or published, then there is less for the rest of us. In addition, not all peer judgments are weighted equally. Even the most fair-minded journal editor or federal program manager cannot ignore the views of the head of a prestigious laboratory, a chaired professor, or a Nobel laureate - especially since many of these people expect such special consideration. One new, troubling aspect of conflicting interests is the effect on education. When graduate students or young academics discuss these issues, they increasingly exhibit a cynical acceptance of an unbalanced system. In a public statement based on her congressional testimony, Margot O'Toole, the postdoctoral scientist caught up in an investigation at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (The Scientist, Nov. 27, 1989), may have voiced publicly what many in her generation privately regard as obvious: "Existing rules allow universities, which have an immediate and obvious conflict of interest, to investigate their own employees. Universities' financial support and prestige are compromised if wrongdoing is disclosed. As in this case, the accused's close professional associates often control the inquiry. Furthermore, secret investigations are permitted. A written report may never be filed, much less shown to the complainant. But secret procedures are intrinsically subject to abuse. They result in cover-ups and scapegoating of junior scientists" (The Chronicle of Higher Education, Jan. 25, 1989). Even if most reviews and investigations are fair, outsiders may believe the system as a whole to be riddled with conflict because it depends so much on anonymity, secrecy, and confidentiality. What protects one person may obscure the personal agenda of another. Conflicts appear to be settled in "backroom" negotiations, rather than in open forums. Observers rightfully ask what happens when the old conventions break down. Can traditional norms of behavior stand up to the temptations posed by financial interests unheard of in science 50 years ago? When the rules are unspoken, then naive, inexperienced participants flounder or fail at the game - and the process deteriorates. Other new conflicts have arisen for researchers in their roles either as university or government scientists advising industry, or as private citizens advising government. Because trust plays a significant role in these relationships, just as it does in peer review, the failure of parties to articulate their expectations and standards can lead to misunderstanding or, worse, to abuse of that trust. University-industry partnerships, for example, encourage cooperation and sharing among participating scientists, but they also blur questions of ownership of intellectual property. As a result, scientists used to talking freely with graduate students may find pedagogical goals conflicting with private consulting arrangements. And professors accustomed to publishing without restraint may find they are required to submit manuscripts to corporate clients for proprietary review. Another area of potential conflict involves the rhetoric of advising. Especially in public statements or testimony, a researcher's neutral language may cloak interests that subtly affect that advice. Rhetoric may be changed to fit the setting and purpose, a phenomenon that British sociologist Michael Mulkay calls "vocabularies of justification." For example, do scientists always declare their private commercial interests when they testify before Congress, or write a letter to the editor of a professional journal, or invest in a biotechnology firm? We make inferences after the fact about such circumstances, but most remain undefined. Usually, only the rules of employers govern conduct, and there are no external mechanisms for adjudicating disputes or airing allegations. There is no middle ground. Conflicts are kept quiet or are aired in forums that can penalize or stigmatize all participants, such as highly publicized congressional investigations. As Sheila Jasanoff, director of Cornell University's Program on Science, Technology, and Society, has observed, "Once science is embroiled in political controversy, expert review is no longer enough to restore credibility." Most institutions clarify the boundaries of propriety not in procedural guidelines, but in case-specific language. Such an approach leaves decisions to an individual's good judgment. When the language is deliberately vague, it may place more responsibility on the individual. Can conflicts be identified and eliminated when even no rules exist? Or when an individual fails to be candid? The Federal Technology Transfer Act, intended to spur use of publicly funded research, also allows civil servants to profit from public investment. What will constitute compliance with the conflict of interest provisions of the act? Ambiguity in interpretation may invite controversy, but matters of conscience will undoubtedly become matters of political dispute. As The Scientist has reported several times, intramural National Institutes of Health scientists have already taken sides on the issue of Cooperative Research and Development Agreements (CRADAs) involving their research programs, declaring their reasons for participating in or shunning collaboration - and profit-sharing - with private laboratories. One of the most recent and disturbing developments on the federal level is a retreat by the government from an NIH proposal to impose strict conflict of interest guidelines on researchers who receive government funds (see story on page 1). Since the proposed guidelines were first published last fall, they have been fiercely opposed by scientist groups and biotechnology companies, which have argued that the rules would stifle the biotech industry as well as jeopardize the freedom of scientific research. Had they been adopted, the rules would have, among other things, prevented scientists from consulting with companies on NIH-funded work and from sharing information with companies prior to its publication. As other professions, science runs on the honor system. It assumes honesty and collegial trust. Usually, that trust is well-placed. Unwritten rules and unspoken assumptions, however, afford unrealistic guides both to "unacceptable" behavior and to eventual punishment. To cope with violations of the honor system, we may need to codify (or, at least, clarify) the ethos of trust and openmindedness within our professional communities. Where might we reasonably question our colleagues' behavior, and where may we trust? Setting such limits will not, of course, eliminate dishonesty. The pursuit of knowledge, profits, advantage, and power will continue to dictate a range of behaviors and compromises, some palatable in some quarters, some affrontive in others. Highly regarded people will continue to push the limits of acceptable behavior, in science as here in modern life; young turks will continue to test old rules of propriety; and mentors, colleagues, and friends will continue to be disappointed when those they once supported are discovered to have cheated, stolen, or lied. From Capitol Hill to the research institutions, there is sufficient ambiguity and uneasiness to warrant closer examination of our conventions, however. There is virtue in making the rules and norms of the systems governing the creation, diffusion, and utilization of new knowledge explicit, however painful the process and even if it means examining interactions that most researchers would prefer to leave implicit. The alternative is even closer legal and political scrutiny as well as increased cynicism among the next generation of scientists and social scientists. And that alternative, in our view, represents a failure of professional obligation, not a surrender of control. As in all conflicts, something - or someone - has to give. Accepting political accountability for professional actions simply recognizes obligation to the American public that has so generously supported research and training. The incidence of misconduct in science is no longer the central issue. Instead, the Congress and the public appear to be asking that, as professionals, scientists accept responsibility for how they ferret out and investigate misconduct among their own. If investigations, testimony, advice, or actions give the appearance of imbalance or intransigence, then conflicts will escalate. Congressional attention will linger - and for good reason. At stake is far more than an individual's financial gain, personal power, or career mobility; at stake is the credibility of the research enterprise itself. Daryl E. Chubin is senior analyst and project director in the Science, Education, and Transportation Program of the Office of Technology Assessment, U.S. Congress. Marcel C. La Follette is visiting scholar at the National Museum of American History, Smithsonian Institution, on leave from the faculty of MIT.

Science Community Needs Its Conduct Rules To Be Explicit

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