The Nomadic Scientists Of Today: Where Is Their Sense Of Loyalty?

As more researchers switch labs, concerns mount over the nature of relationships between leading scientists and their institutions Rein Saral and three of his colleagues in the bone marrow transplant program at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore are moving to Emory University in Atlanta. Surgical oncologist David Morton and about a half-dozen other investigators at the Jonsson Comprehensive Cancer Center of the University of California, Los Angeles, have switched to other institutions throughout the United States. And oncologist Carlo Croce, along with 25 principal investigators associated with him, is relocating from Temple University's Fels Institute in Philadelphia across town to Jefferson Medical College. Although no one keeps statistics on the number of scientists who change institutions in any given year, many researchers and administrators say they are observing an increase in the incidence of these moves. It is a trend about which some are comfortable, some concerned. But virtually everyone is intrigued by the questions that such a trend raises. To what extent is a scientist a free agent? How much of this activity is stimulated by money and alleged "bidding wars" over the superstars in science? What do a principal investigator and his or her institution owe each other? And does it really matter where a scientist works? When you get right down to it, administrators like to point out, all a scientist "owns" is his or her intellect, ideas, and creativity. Peer-review grants, though applied for and garnered by the principal investigator, are awarded to the institution. Likewise, all equipment and resources purchased with these funds are legally owned by the institution, not the scientist. Conversely, in the words of Richard J. Steckel, director of UCLA's Jonsson cancer center, "The institution is the scientists in it. An institute can't consist of anything except the quality of the people who are participating in the research." So it is the partnership between scientists and institutions that results in productive science. If, as UCLA's Richard Steckel says, "the institution is the scientists in it," what happens to an institution that suffers the departure of a number of scientists in quick succession? Sometimes it can signal an institution in distress. But just as often, the departure of a couple of big-name scientists can create the illusion of trouble even at a stable institution. Such was the case this spring at the Jonsson Comprehensive Cancer Center, where Steckel serves as director. Over the past year eight oncologists have left the UCLA center, and more may well be on their way to St. John's Hospital in nearby Santa Monica. This "exodus" prompted news reports as far away as New York, where the Times reported that Jonsson was slipping. "It's a nonstory," Steckel says. "Two years ago we had 320 investigators; seven or eight people have left and five or six have been recruited, so we're now at 318. That 2 percent turnover is significantly less than at many other institutions." The irony, of course, is that it is the institutions of sufficient reputation to attract the scientific superstars that will eventually suffer the damage of losing those same people. "One of the goals of any institution is to be the place from which other institutions come to recruit," observes Joseph Gonnella, senior vice president of academic affairs and dean of the Jefferson Medical College in Philadelphia. And Steckel acknowledges that it is possible to find a silver lining in this experience. "Maybe it is a tribute to our reaching the heights that people are now saying, `Hey, it's worth raiding UCLA because they have really got some talent.' " But Steckel is more worried about the damage that has been done to the public perception of Jonsson's strength--a public of potential patients who have little way to gauge the quality of an institution other than by reading the public press. "They are raising questions like: `I don't know if I should stay there. I hear there will be no surgical oncologists left.' Whereas we have 30 surgical oncologists and one or two are leaving." But does the negative press impact on UCLA's efforts to recruit additional investigators? "I haven't experienced that yet," says Steckel. "Though, obviously, I fear that." --S. L-J D. What does each have the right to expect from the other? "An institution," says Allen R. Myers, dean of Temple Medical School, "expects productivity from the PI. This can be manifested in his educational role and/or through his science being published in high-quality journals, which provides prestige for the institution." In return, the researcher gains the support of an entire organization. Start-up funds, space, the stimulation of graduate students and other colleagues are the most important, but mundane activities such as grant administration and purchasing are tangible benefits, as well. "It is a symbiotic relationship between the investigator and the institution," says Warner Greene, professor of medicine and a Howard Hughes Medical Institute investigator at Duke University. But, as with any relationship, the two partners don't always grow at the same rate or in the same direction, and their needs may change. Indeed, relocation is widely viewed in the scientific community as integral to the natural progression of a scientist's career. Though teaching commitments may exist, for the most part scientists are free to move between institutions as opportunities present themselves. Some university administrators view the relationship on a more visceral level and what they perceive as a cavalier attitude among scientists about relocation as a betrayal of trust. For example, one Temple administrator, referring to former Fels Institute director Croce's departure with the vast majority of his staff (The Scientist, June 24, 1991, page 1), charges that "[Croce] never had any commitment or loyalty to the institution." And an administrator at one Ivy League research university says even more bluntly: "These guys don't give a f--- about anybody. All they care about is themselves." Scientists, of course, are quick to deny such ruthlessness; rather, they see their moving about as almost an evolutionary process within a dynamic research environment. "This is something that has always happened in academia," says Rein Saral. Saral, who has been at Johns Hopkins for 15 years, is doing research on marrow transplants for patients with sickle cell anemia and AIDS. He was attracted to Atlanta by the Yerkes Primate Center, where extensive work has been done with the simian immunovirus, and by the opportunity to collaborate with other Emory scientists. "Most of us move," he observes, "because we see that the potential for our careers will be better." "This kind of free market of scientists and ideas is beneficial for scientists, for institutions, and for science itself," says Steckel. "[Relocation] most often improves the lot of the individual investigator. But it is also a plus for the institutions, in that it keeps them on their toes." Bidding wars do indeed occur, says Michael Zinner, executive chairman of UCLA's department of surgery, who recalls that a couple of years ago, when Robert Gallo expressed interest in leaving the National Institutes of Health, a number of large institutions on the East Coast put together packages in an effort to recruit him. "In this case," says Zinner, "it was absolutely appropriate. The institutions were looking to broaden their research in the areas of AIDS and HIV, and [Gallo] was looking for opportunities not available to him at NIH. "The question is: What are the motives? To improve a program and advance the science, or financial reward for the hospital and the individual?" "I think people are worried that they may become like free agents in sports," says Myers. "Is an institution going to be able to attract someone and his whole group at the drop of a hat for just a little more money and a little more space? This portends badly for the research enterprise in the United States." Alan Fechter, executive director of the office of science and engineering personnel at the National Research Council, shares Myers's concern. "The University of Texas at Austin and George Mason University are two examples of institutions that have been out there aggressively bidding for major talent," he says. "The problem is that you don't increase the supply of talent when you do that; you merely redistribute it. It puts scientists in the class of athletes and rock stars. That makes it more difficult to get research done at a reasonable cost." But few, if any, scientists share these concerns. They note that colleagues working in a for-profit environment often make much more money, and that a market based on supply and demand should be self-correcting. "We have a free market for baseball players, for corporate executives, for movie stars, and authors," observes one Nobel laureate scientist. "I don't see why we shouldn't have a free market for researchers." Nevertheless, most of the scientists downplay the financial incentive for their moves. "Resources are important," acknowledges Saral, referring to such tangible factors as space, equipment, and staff. "But equally important are the intangible resources: the intellectual environment present or being created at the institution." Warner Greene concurs. Greene is leaving Duke in September to join the University of California, San Francisco, where he will direct the new Gladstone Institute of Virology and Immunology. The university has promised Greene 23,000 square feet of lab space. But more attractive than the physical and financial resources, Greene says, is the opportunity to assemble a critical mass of bright, young scientists. "I now have the chance to make a real impact on AIDS and related retroviral-induced diseases," he says. So does it matter exactly where a scientist decides to hang his or her lab coat? The consensus seems to be that it doesn't matter in the physical or geographic sense. But of paramount import is the collegial and intellectual environment. At the University of Texas at Austin, theoretical physicist Steven Weinberg says his coworkers play a pivotal role in the work he accomplishes. "I would not be as effective at an institution where I was not surrounded by bright, challenging colleagues." Science is the bottom line, says Greene, and it is an atmosphere like the one Weinberg describes that Greene will be striving to create as he builds a new team at the Gladstone Institute. "Hopefully," he says, "by putting all of us together in a very interactive environment, synergistic science will result." Susan L-J Dickinson is a freelance writer based in Philadelphia.

The Nomadic Scientists Of Today: Where Is Their Sense Of Loyalty?

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