Third World Research Can Present `Unimaginable' Problems

University of Iowa biochemist John Donelson's brush with disaster during a 1987 expedition to West Africa is a prime example of the kind of nightmare that can occur when a scientist embarks on a research project in a Third World country. For weeks Donelson had been touring remote areas in Mali and Cameroon, collecting parasite specimens from natives infected with onchocerciasis, a disease prevalent in sub-Saharan Africa. Midway through the Cameroon leg of his trip, Donelson ran low on the liquid nitrogen he used to quick-freeze the organisms. Unless he could replenish his supply, his specimens would thaw, and all of the time, effort, and money invested in his enterprise would be lost. Hasty inquiries uncovered only a single source of liquid nitrogen in the entire country, but the facility was no longer functioning. Just when things looked utterly hopeless, one of the Cameroonian scientists who had accompanied Donelson into the field salvaged the situation. After several days of negotiation, Donelson's colleague talked the owner of the facility into making enough repairs to produce a few liters of liquid nitrogen. This amount proved sufficient to see Donelson through to the end of the expedition and to transport the specimens back to the United States for further study. With the war in the Persian Gulf intensifying United States citizens' fears of terrorism while traveling abroad, scientists should remember that performing research in certain parts of the world can entail a degree of danger. Of course, the entire Third World is not a uniform hotbed of unrest and violence, although it is sometimes portrayed otherwise. But it's also true that, in some developing countries, periodic or ongoing episodes of ethnic strife, civil discontent, and overall political instability can pose a threat to scientists' personal safety and to the security of their work. Minimizing the risks is mostly a matter of exercising common sense and listening to the advice of local contacts. In many cases, trouble tends to be restricted to specific locales, which makes it relatively easy to steer clear of the danger zones. When civil war erupted in the southern Sudan, for instance, pharmacologist James Bennett shifted his field studies to the northern part of the country. It can be difficult to get an accurate picture of a country's internal affairs from afar. As a service to people planning to go abroad, the State Department issues travel advisories on a country-by-country basis from reports compiled by its embassies around the world. However, while this material is constantly updated, once a warning is in place the government may be slow in lifting it. On his last expedition to Senegal, paleontologist Stephen Culver chose to ignore a warning he considered dated in favor of his own source of information. "[The State Department] is often behind [in reporting] what's happening over in Africa, so I was in close contact with my friends in Dakar to find out if I could do the trip," he says. The outbreak of hostilities in the Persian Gulf adds a new, and altogether darker, dimension to the prospects of doing research in the Third World. Besides disrupting scientific activity in some regions of the Middle East, the war has also raised the specter of terrorism around the world. Posing an additional threat to the safety of U.S. citizens abroad is the rising tide of anti-U.S. sentiment in countries with large Muslim populations. Culver acknowledges that he's considering canceling his upcoming trip to Senegal and Mali, both of which are predominantly Muslim. And in the face of the Sudan's open support of Saddam Hussein, Bennett fears that travel there may be impossible for the duration of the conflict. Most scientists, like Culver and Bennett, are adopting a wait-and-see attitude. But if the conflict continues, it appears likely that international research will become another casualty of the Persian Gulf war. --J.S. Donelson's experience holds a twofold moral. First, when planning this sort of enterprise, "you need to expect delays and problems that are really almost unimaginable [in the U.S.]," he advises. Second, to cope with the unexpected, a good working relationship with a scientist or official in the host country is the best remedy against trouble. All science is fraught with uncertainty. Doubt is scientists' constant companion, hovering over every phase of their work from the writing of a grant proposal to the performing of an experiment. However, when the setting in which science takes place is transplanted from the familiar confines of one's lab to a country in the developing part of the world, another set of unknowns is added--problems with equipment, facilities, transportation, communications, regulations, language, and customs. Further complicating matters is the fact that the climate for research ventures initiated by foreign investigators in the Third World has changed over the last two decades. U.S. scientists going to Latin America, Africa, or Asia no longer have carte blanche to roam around the countryside and cross national borders at will. Plagued by such persistent problems as smuggling and drug trafficking, governments have grown more security-conscious and have tightened travel restrictions considerably. Policies have also shifted, as many Third World nations have shed the last vestiges of their colonial heritage and developed not only more of an independent political tradition, but also an academic one. Now that they're producing scientists and students of their own, these countries have become more protective of their own researchers and less tolerant of outsiders seeking to undertake projects that have the aura of scientific imperialism. Conducting a research project in a developing country is not necessarily something to be avoided or viewed with trepidation. But as William Denevan, a University of Wisconsin geographer with extensive experience in Central and South America, points out, "You can't just charge in wildly." Indeed, his advice cuts to the heart of the issue: The importance of advance planning cannot be overemphasized when a scientist lays the groundwork for a Third World project. Advance planning means that a researcher should start making the arrangements for a trip up to a year ahead of the anticipated departure date. This sort of head start provides a generous cushion of time to take care of visas, secure government clearance, and get past any other bureaucratic bottlenecks one may encounter. It also allows plenty of leeway to map out the logistical details of the project and establish contact with the scientific community in the host country. Connections with local scientists are essential, if not indispensable, to the success of the undertaking. "It would be virtually impossible to step in and begin to work without a counterpart," Donelson explains. "You have to work with knowledgeable people." This relationship can assume many forms, from a casual association to a formal academic affiliation with a native institution to a full-fledged collaboration with local scholars. Before even trying to put together a major project, Denevan advises making a pilot trip to the country in question to begin a dialogue. Such a trip enables a scientist "to make direct contact with key people and institutions and let them know what you want to do and raise the issue of a formal affiliation," says Denevan, who supervised a large-scale study of ancient agricultural terraces in southern Peru from 1984 to 1988. Including local scientists and students in a collaborative venture works to the advantage of both parties in the alliance. "We learn, they learn," says pharmacologist James Bennett, who for more than a decade has been shuttling between Michigan State University and the parasitic disease labs he helped set up in the Sudan. "We learn about their diseases, and they learn about our newest methodologies and technologies. That's what the collaboration is all about." Another benefit of a joint operation is that it goes a long way toward securing the cooperation of any government and academic authorities that take an interest in a Western scientist's project. Most of the time, contacts with scientists from a particular country can be acquired in the course of one's normal professional activities, through meetings, referrals from colleagues, and even the perusal of the scientific literature on a subject. U.S. and international agencies engaged in developmental programs in the Third World are another useful resource (see box on page 19). As any savvy traveler knows, another way scientists can prep themselves before departure is to consult people familiar with their destination. Says Cynthia Beall, an anthropologist at Case Western Reserve University and veteran of more than a dozen trips to Nepal, Tibet, Mongolia, Bolivia, and Peru, "In both cases in Latin America I knew people who had lived and actually worked in the area where I was going. They were able to say, `You can get this, you can get that. You'll need this, you'll need that.' It was extremely helpful." A visa as well as a passport is needed to gain entry into most Third World countries. Standard tourist visas typically permit stays for a designated length of time and can be obtained through the mail or in person at an embassy or consulate office. Some countries, however, may require those visiting for reasons other than pleasure to secure a business visa. The procedure for acquiring a business visa may involve little more than supplying some extra information on a standard application form; nonetheless, one's chances of experiencing delays due to red tape or official inertia increase substantially. Sometimes, the business visa never turns up at all. This happened twice to Fred Rickson, a botanist at Oregon State University, once before an expedition to Malaysia and another time prior to a trip to India. On both occasions, he ended up traveling on a tourist visa, a practice he thinks is fairly commonplace. "I suspect probably more science gets done on tourist visas than on [business] visas," he says. Potentially more troublesome when it comes to conducting research in a developing nation is the question of government clearance. Whether or not a scientist needs to secure approval for his or her work depends on the country involved and the nature of the investigation. This is where contacts in the host country can be invaluable, explaining what documentation might be needed and pointing the researcher to the appropriate ministry or agency. With government clearance, as in every other stage of planning, one should start trying to settle the matter far in advance, as unpredictability is definitely the byword here. Consider, for example, the case of Stephen Culver. Planning to lead a fossil-hunting expedition to Mali in February of this year, the Old Dominion University paleontologist sought government consent a full 12 months before his scheduled trip. A reply finally turned up in January, Culver says, but it merely indicated that formal approval would be forthcoming, forcing him to postpone his trip until spring. But Culver's experience pales when compared with that of Arnold Gordon, an oceanographer from Columbia University (The Scientist, March 6, 1989, page 1). In 1987, Gordon was primed to launch a major study of how ocean currents in the straits of Indonesia affect global climate patterns. All of the arrangements appeared to be in place: He had visited Jakarta and lined up collaborators at that end, and had submitted a 60-page document out- lining the project to Indonesian officials. But before the study actually got under way, the Indonesian government torpedoed the whole operation by refusing to allow Gordon access to its coastal waters. Gordon not only had to scuttle the venture, but also had to return a $4.4 million grant to the National Science Foundation. Gordon's story underscores the risk that goes with trying to conduct science within the jurisdiction of another nation. Despite the unhappy outcome, the oceanographer says that he would not want his experience to deter other scientists from pursuing research with an international component. "You go ahead and try to address important scientific questions. I think that's an obligation that we have," he explains. Yet another aspect of performing research in the Third World that requires careful planning is the matter of supplies and equipment. "Set yourself up ahead of time," recommends botanist Rickson. "Know you have what you need, and don't expect to pick it up when you get there unless you know it's available." Before departing for an overseas expedition in the field, Rickson says, he sits down and meticulously calculates his requirements. "I run through a typical week and ask myself what I would like to find and what [will be needed] if I'm successful." Then there's the challenge of having to adapt to an environment where customs, culture, language, and even simple, everyday events like eating a meal may all involve unfamiliar rituals. "You have to be alert to local customs and be aware that what's normal behavior for yourself might be offensive to people in that country," warns Donelson. This means not only modifying one's conduct, but also accepting some of the inconveniences and frustrations inherent to the territory. But when viewed in light of all the uncertainty that attends research ventures in the Third World, scientists say that cultural differences present few difficulties, at least as far as working with their local scientific counterparts is concerned. Language rarely poses a problem because most people at the Ph.D. level speak English with some degree of facility. But, more than this, there is a professional kinship that extends beyond the boundaries of nationality. The practice of science involves a common vocabulary and modes of conduct and, above all, a collective sense of purpose. When cultures mix, "minor problems and breakdowns in communication occur," James Bennett says, but everyone involved "recognizes that the overriding concern is to get the work done." Jeff Seiken is a freelance writer based in Pittsburgh. The following is a sampling of programs specifically designed to support research in developing countries. U.S. Agency for International Development Program in Science and Technology Cooperation (PSTC) Office of the Science Adviser Room 320 SA-18 320 21st St., N.W. Washington, D.C. 20523-1818 (703) 875-4444 National Science Foundation Science in Developing Countries Program Division of International Programs Washington, D.C. 20550 (202) 357-9537 Note: The program also offers short-term funding to scientists who want to make a pilot visit to a country to plan future research. National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases International Collaboration in Infectious Diseases Research Program Parasitology and Tropical Disease Branch Westwood Building Room 737 5333 Westbard Ave. Bethesda, Md. 20892 (301) 496-2544 U.S. Department of Agriculture Collaborative International Research Program Office of International Cooperation and Development Room 0324 South Building Washington, D.C. 20250-4300 (202) 245-5722 Council for International Exchange of Scholars Fulbright Scholar Program 3007 Tilden St., N.W. Suite 5M Washington, D.C. 20008-3009 (202) 686-7866 National Institutes of Health Senior International Fellowship Program Fogarty International Center International Research and Awards Branch Building 31 Room B2C21 Bethesda, Md. 20892 (301) 496-1653 Note: The Fogarty International Center publishes a Directory of International Grants and Fellowships in the Health Sciences. Edna McConnell Clark Foundation Program for Tropical Disease Research 250 Park Ave. New York, N.Y. 10017 (212) 986-7050

Third World Research Can Present `Unimaginable' Problems

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