For Engineering and Science
Vivian Weil
Dr. Barnes confronts an extremely troubling dilemma: whether to report the violation or not. Before considering whether he can devise any route between the horns, we should look back at the route by which he reached this difficult moment.
First, we must ask whether Barnes considered in advance, as he should have, the risk of encountering such forced choices. From the outset, Barnes faces the prospect that the more success he has in winning trust and acceptance within the group he studies, the more likely that members will become less guarded in his presence and, not necessarily in a swaggering manner, reveal violations of law. After all, Barnes is not studying ordinary, law-abiding citizens. Moreover, as a researcher in sociology, he follows the conventions of his discipline in using a recording device during interviews. An upshot is the likelihood that he will record interview responses that reveal violations of law.
Accordingly, before pursuing the research it is essential to evaluate the benefit of this type of research compared with the risks. In view of the group members’ alienation from society and the dangers they pose to others, gaining an “inside” understanding of one of these groups is a worthy goal. Their involvement with weapons makes it important to study these groups and also produces the risks of just such situations as the one that confounds Barnes. The cost/benefit analysis can favor proceeding with the research only if appropriate safeguards are devised to protect the members of the group under study and the researcher.
The members of such a group are owed the respect and protection due any research subjects: full information about the aims, conduct, benefits, and risks of the research and the opportunity to give fully voluntary consent to be studied and interviewed, if not to actively participate in the research. Trust is essential to scientific enterprises; its importance to the research in question in this case is evident. The consent form is the obviously necessary and also formally required device for gaining informed, voluntary consent and trust. There should be a consent process. The effectiveness of this process depends not only on the content of the consent form but also on the discussion that Barnes should conduct as part of the process.
In that discussion the issue of violations of law should be aired, framed, of course, by the presumption against violations of law. However, anticipating that violations may occur, such risks as group members’ inadvertently or intentionally revealing violations of law must be thoroughly considered. While the researcher cannot anticipate every sort of case, she should elicit discussion of the kinds of violations that could come up and their seriousness, making clear that the list is not exhaustive and the violations range in seriousness. That effort might help to put participants on their guard both about violating the law and informing the researcher about violations. It is difficult to pronounce from outside whether it is a good idea to set a standard for exposure at the outset and how to determine a threshold. To an outsider it seems that this issue is at least worth discussing with group members.
To the extent that militia group members can become participants in the research who see themselves as contributing to knowledge about society in all its complexity, they might come to understand the bind that results for the researcher if they engage in illegal activity and the researcher finds out. This last consideration suggests that the researcher investigate not only the nature of these militias but also reasonable expectations about the kind and extent of group members’ participation in the research that can be achieved.
It seems that the discussion that Barnes conducted in the consent process was more limited than that suggested here. It may also be that additional ground-level understandings about how the research would proceed were needed and were not communicated in this instance. It is, in any case, worth the researcher’s effort to think through what additional understanding of the research process such participants need (in advance and along the way) that are not necessarily dictated by the consent form requirement.
This case makes clear how very important the consent form is to alerting researchers to their responsibilities in setting up and carrying out research. It suggests that, far from railing against the demands of the IRB, researchers should take them as cues to consider what else they owe participants, as a matter of respect and protection for participants and themselves, and what other communication at the outset and along the way can reduce the likelihood of such ethical dilemmas. The aim is to build trust and a sense of participating in a common undertaking to the extent possible.
Confronting Barnes’s dilemma, there is no neat way between the horns, but there is at least one option worth considering. Barnes could make his dilemma a subject for the participants to consider with him, on the basis of his determination (with an eye to the future) that on this particular first occurrence, it is as ethically defensible to sort out the issues with participants as to report a violation of law, not the most serious. This would be, in effect, to hold the full discussion that should have taken place originally. This kind of “forthrightness and honesty” could increase trust and predictability; it might not. That is a risk for the researcher. But this option seems ethically preferable to either horn of the dilemma and, from the perspective of an outside commentator, no more risky.
Commentary On
This case highlights ethical issues in research design and effectively brings out a number of additional ethical issues. Temptations faced by social science researchers in dealing with these issues are forcefully presented. The case and other commentary make the social science researcher’s resistance to the IRB’s interference understandable, and at the same time they underline the importance of the role of the IRB.
The initial focus of this commentary is on the research itself, an investigation in the field of psycholinguistics. Sophia is engaged in bilingual research on language acquisition using a computational model. In every case, presumably, English is one of the languages. For her dissertation, Sophia will use the model to discern particular patterns of language usage that indicate what languages a person speaks or has been exposed to. This is the core scientific research. It is applied research, for the research product is designed for use in government agencies, such as the NSA, FBI, and CIA (perhaps also Homeland Security) to help them gain information about the ethnicity or nationality of the authors from texts they receive. Of particular interest are texts containing bomb threats, ransom notes, and the like.
The research involves selecting many participants from specific language groups and comparing patterns of their language usage on the basis of output from the model. It is essential to collect a large number of text samples from research participants. In addition, to obtain results that will be useful to the agencies for ascertaining ethnicity and nationality of authors, Sophia has determined that she needs text samples of bomb threats and ransom notes from participants.
Presumably, Sophia’s dissertation advisor(s) agreed on the need for such texts. This is an important point because the case raises an ethical question about the justification for an experiment that requires students to furnish such texts, as well as a question about research design. Accordingly, before turning to the risks for students from participating in the experiment, it is important to ascertain the scientific rationale for requiring students to write bomb threats and ransom notes and for allotting such a large portion of the three-hour experiment to obtaining these texts.
Another question of research rationale focuses on the justification for apparently accepting the agencies’ interest in determining the ethnicity and nationality of authors. Why are these the target variables? What about other variables of interest to psychologists, such as mental instability? If such psychological characteristics are the ultimate target, why are nationality and ethnicity thought to be appropriate foci of investigation? One is reminded of a point often made concerning the apprehension of terrorists. Using ethnicity or nationality profiles rather than certain behavioral profiles is a time-consuming distraction from tracking people exhibiting odd behavior that might indicate questionable clandestine activity. Accordingly, academic psychologists could serve the applied research users by questioning and discussing with them their interest in the ethnicity and nationality of the authors of texts.
These questions of justification need to be discussed with participants, for the rationale points to the value of the research, i.e. the basis for justifying risks for which participants’ consent is sought. In addition, students are to be awarded academic credit for participating in the research; it is important that they have an intellectual understanding of the research and the reasons for pursuing it. The credit issue will be explored more fully below after comments on Sophia’s stance regarding risks.
The claim that there is little guidance in the literature regarding the risks to participants from the tasks of writing bomb threats and ransom notes seems open to question. Sophia may not find guidance related just to these tasks, but by using her imagination to identify relevantly similar tasks and discussing this issue with her advisor(s), she may uncover some helpful literature. Such research is an appropriate component of the dissertation research, even necessary to defend experiments such as the one Sophia intends to conduct.
If, contra expectations, Sophia finds no guidance, she must proceed with great caution, given that there is evidence that writing about certain positive events may have positive effects. In Sophia’s experiment, students are to produce texts that in certain contexts would expose them to legal consequences. The absence of guidance is not license simply to proceed.
Presumably, students are to take the tasks seriously, not play games with them. Is it possible to tell the difference? This leads to further questions about whether such tasks are necessary or even useful, particularly in view of the goal to obtain from the texts information about ethnicity and nationality of authors. Moreover, as the author of the case notes, the restriction of research participants to certain language groups might well raise questions in the minds of participants (and others) about profiling. In this connection, there may be relevant studies that indicate risks, and negative effects may not be so difficult to predict. One would not expect a decline in health among negative effects. More likely effects are anxiety, irritation, resentment, and even fear. The researcher has an obligation to learn about likely effects.
The research subjects are entitled to know that this is applied research and which government agencies are the intended users. Respect for students as persons requires that they have an opportunity to chose whether to participate in this particular applied research and to withdraw from participation at any time because of objections to the application or for any other reason. This respect is also owed to students as participants in what is presented as an educational activity. Students are presumably allowed credit because this is intended to be an educational experience.
Students are more vulnerable than some other populations because of their status. They are subject to the power and influence of their instructors, and they need credit, grades, letters of recommendation and other sorts of consideration that affect their careers in college and in life afterward.
Three hours of course credit for participation in a three-hour experiment of writing texts seems excessively generous, especially if one accepts the ground rule that students should not perceive participating as subjects in research as an easier way to obtain extra credit than other available options. (There should, of course, be other options.) Such generous terms can rank as undue inducement, even coercion in some circumstances. This is a concern that the IRB should not fail to address. It is incumbent on IRBs (and psychology departments as well) to establish and enforce policies, such as the ground rule suggested above, out of respect for students and the need to protect them. The course credit should not count in the balance against the risks of the research.
It is altogether appropriate that IRB approval required a year’s time, considerable discussion, and the caveat that students be on notice through the consent form that they might be required to write a bomb threat or ransom note. The IRB justifiably pressed Sophia for justification. It is surprising that there is no detail on the considerations that finally persuaded the IRB. For example, how did the IRB come to agree with the distribution of time, two thirds to be spent on the bomb threat or ransom note?
The incident that occurred at the end of the term is related to two ethical issues already identified: the generous course credit awarded for participation and the apparent profiling of certain language groups. The Middle Eastern student’s perception is that he was discriminated against in not being allowed into an experiment that would have answered his credit needs. This is the sort of outcome Sophia might have thought about in advance. She might, as a result, have decided upon less seductive credit terms. It is also conceivable that if she had questioned the agencies’ presumed interest in the ethnicity and nationality of text authors, she might not have gone ahead with a research protocol that visibly targeted certain language groups.
Sophia is not entitled to conclude that the student is simply manipulating her for credit. Our motives most often are mixed. Sophia’s concession to give him partial credit may not have been well considered, for he did not have the qualifications of a proper participant. He might have concluded that whatever consideration had inclined her to give him some credit might work to extract more credit. The narrative about the student suggests that he might have been genuinely aggrieved (not “alarmed”, as Sophia opines) at being excluded on what he plausibly perceives to be “racist” grounds. After all, Sophia had foreseen that there might be a problem with the appearance of profiling. She thought of the effect on qualified participants rather than on those excluded.
Sophia must report this incident to the IRB when she reapplies for approval. This is knowledge the IRB must have in deciding whether and with what modifications or caveats to grant approval. The incident was intense and related to ethical questions raised by the research. The researcher is at risk in such situations. Sophia cannot be confident that such incidents are not harmful to students and will not occur again.
There are no general, bright line boundaries defining what in the first year of experience must be reported to the IRB. It is helpful to think about what information the IRB needs to make sound decisions for the present and the future to protect research participants. It seems obvious that since Sophia has become involved in a quite heated incident with a student, she is not in a good position to gauge the motives and level of stress of the student. Regarding all three questions following Part 1, the experimenter should discuss her responses with advisors, department members, and perhaps others. In general, researchers should test out their views on ethical questions concerning their research with others whose reactions may be useful to confront.
It is no longer a question whether an IRB should have authority to intrude into research. Since the appearance of the Belmont Report, we have well established knowledge demonstrating that researchers cannot be left to determine for themselves whether they have adequately dealt with risks posed by their research. The consent form is very useful for pressing researchers to consider and address ethical questions raised by their research, and it is essential for providing appropriate protections to research subjects. The IRB should be the final authority to be satisfied on these points.
The other commentary raises the question of whether fully informing research participants might affect the results of the experiment and the benefit of the research in respect to homeland security. It might affect the results, but that prospect is not enough to overbalance the importance of fully informing participants. Indeed, the effect might not be for the worse. The benefit to homeland security is in the realm of speculation.
The argument that fully informing participants jeopardizes the research has long since lost its hold. Openness and transparency are as important in research as in other areas of activity, and restrictions require strong justification. The demand for openness should trigger ingenuity in designing the research. Government funded research that bars fully informing research participants should not be conducted with students. Whether and under what conditions such research can be justified with other participants is beyond the scope of this discussion.
Commentary On
Conflicts about authorship generate many of the cases in scientific research ethics. These problems often arise in a lab or research group where there are no announced policies regarding authorship. The cases do not often deal with questions of authorship regarding contributions of graduate students rotating in a lab and even less frequently address authorship issues regarding the contributions of technicians.
This case features a lab director who discusses his authorship policy with each new member of the lab. Because a technician and a rotating graduate student contribute to the research under consideration, the question arises whether they should be included among the authors, and, if so, in what order.
Dr. Messelman Killinger, the lab director, has fulfilled the responsibility to devise and announce his authorship policy for lab members, and he permits discussion of authorship assignments. He allows all the interested parties to participate in, or be present at, the discussion. These policies contribute to predictability and fairness in authorship assignments. Whether Killinger encourages or allows discussion of the policy itself we cannot tell. Discussion of local policies is another aid to creating a research environment that supports responsible conduct.
David tries to apply Killinger's stated policy in circumstances that raise questions about what counts as a significant intellectual contribution to an experiment and who counts as a member of the lab. Presumably, the technician and the rotating student have to rank as members of the lab to be included as authors.
The instance depicted in this case is the kind of concrete example that can be used in Killinger's lab, and in other research groups, to clarify what counts as a contribution meriting authorship. It may not be possible to cite necessary and sufficient conditions for authorship, but Killinger and other research group leaders can use particular instances, such as the authorship discussion in this case, to explain minimum requirements for authorship. For instance, it may be worthwhile to discuss whether and why a researcher's important contribution to an experiment should justify authorship when the researcher makes no contribution to writing the paper. Killinger is entitled to make the final determination of the criteria and to decide when they are satisfied. By explaining those decisions with reasons, he may head off disappointment and dissatisfaction.
We do not know whether Killinger discusses his authorship policy with technicians and rotating students when they join the lab. If he does, he treats them appropriately as regular members of the lab, as far as authorship is concerned. They could then expect to be included among the authors when their contributions warrant it. If he does not make it a practice to discuss his authorship policy with rotators and technicians when they join the lab, he should. This case shows that he must be prepared for the possibility that a rotating student or a technician will make a contribution important enough to merit authorship.
Without knowing more about the criteria for a significant contribution, we cannot be sure whether David's recommendation to list Haruko but not Benson is justifiable. Clarification of the criteria for authorship would help to settle any question about whether Benson is denied authorship on the basis of having made a minor contribution or rather on the basis of being a very temporary and therefore lower-status participant in the research. Such clarity might also assure that Haruko is included because she has made an appropriate intellectual contribution and not merely because David feels indebted to her. Clarification is important because it allows students and technicians to form appropriate expectations, reduces the chances that they will feel unfairly treated, and thus eliminates opportunities for friction and conflict to arise in the lab.
The final decision about what counts as a significant intellectual contribution to an experiment rests with Killinger; he is the lab director and presumably the Principal Investigator for the funded research. A final authority is required, and the lab director is the appropriate person. At the same time his policy of making himself the last author on any paper resulting from research done in his lab is open to question.
Killinger might answer that by virtue of having acquired the funding for the research, he automatically makes the required contribution. That response adds a criterion for authorship that applies only to him and rules out the possibility of differentiating instances when he contributes significantly to the research from instances when he contributes little or is not involved at all. These considerations may matter enough to members of the lab to lead to friction and conflict.
Moreover, the practice of listing the lab director last in order to send a coded message to those outside the lab is problematic. It uses authorship to provide other information in an uncertain "system" of informal understandings. It conflates credit for winning funding and directing a lab with credit for research findings. It allows a question to arise about who takes responsibility for data provided and claims made in the paper. To announce who takes responsibility is one of the fundamental purposes of listing authors. In addition, Killinger's policy, as stated, has a very wide reach. It seems to apply to any paper resulting from research in the lab without qualification, paying no attention to how much the research in this lab contributed, whether the researcher has left the lab, and how long a time after completion of the research the policy applies.
In light of all these considerations, Killinger's policy of automatically listing the lab director as last author is not easy to defend. If particular circumstances justify the practice in this lab, he should explain them, and he should make clear how far the policy extends. It is not easy, practically speaking, to devise a situation that invites or prompts the lab director to explain the practice. To question this practice is to challenge the lab director on a policy he devised that gives him recognition. Even if he would defend his policy on the ground that it gives good visibility to his students and post-docs, credit to him remains an issue.
The practice of awarding automatic or honorary authorship needs full discussion in labs, departments, professional societies and other venues. Journal editors have spoken out on this issue and have proposed arrangements for authorship, or "contributorship," that rule out honorary authorship and make it unnecessary to decode what a place in the list of authors signifies. A leading recommendation is to provide a byline consisting of a very short list of those who made substantial contributions, to make clear who of them guarantees the paper, to list at the end the names of all other contributors and their contributions, and to include other sources of funding in acknowledgments.
Commentary On
This case offers an interesting angle on relationships within a lab and at the same time an opportunity to examine relationships between labs in the competitive environment of science. The very presentation of the case reveals some of the complexity of relationships within scientific research groups.
The title highlights a post-doc, Sarah Bringham, a member of Dr. Julius Martin's lab. She may be harmed if a graduate student in the same lab, John McGovern, accepts the offer to join Dr. Chen Wang's lab after graduation. In Wang's lab, it seems, McGovern will have an opportunity, perhaps an obligation, to take up research problems very similar, if not identical, to those Bringham investigates in Martin's lab. McGovern might take advantage of his knowledge of Bringham's research to move ahead of her. Interestingly, although the title represents Bringham's perspective, the case is presented from McGovern's perspective. Absent from the scene altogether and playing no role in the unfolding situation is the lab director, Martin, who perhaps is a remote adviser.
Despite McGovern's close relationship with Bringham, we find him concentrating on his opportunity, without thinking about the consequences for Bringham. He ignores Martin as well. He seems not to consider the fact that the latter has control over the data produced in his lab through his funding. If McGovern were to turn his attention to his current circumstances, as he should, he might see the need to discuss Wang's offer with Martin and Bringham before he responds to Wang.
McGovern should inform Martin of any offer, surely any offer he finds tempting. Martin reasonably expects to hear from McGovern about any offer involving research and data in his lab. Because funding awarded to Martin's lab supported McGovern's graduate research, he owes Martin a full account of the offer, as a matter of reciprocity and fairness, as well as courtesy. Martin is owed that information even if he has been a remote adviser. In addition, it would be prudent to inform Martin because McGovern might benefit from Martin's assessment of the opportunity.
Martin should not be left in the dark, unable to protect his and the post-doc's interests in the success of research in his lab. He should have an opportunity to help McGovern in his career move. Furthermore, McGovern needs Martin's permission to take any data from the lab. If McGovern is not aware of that requirement, both he and Martin are remiss. At the outset of McGovern's research, Martin should have made clear the status of data collected in the lab. If he failed to do that, McGovern should have asked him about ownership of a graduate student's data or somehow informed himself.
Finally, by handling the offer unilaterally, McGovern would close off the possibility of turning the offer into a gain for himself, Bringham, Martin and the lab. Openness and discussion, on the other hand, would allow consideration of arrangements from which all might benefit.
McGovern's friendship and close research relationship with Bringham form the basis of his duty to talk with her about Wang's offer. He must confront the prospect that in going to Wang's lab he might have to exploit his involvement in Bringham's work - to her detriment. Ethically speaking, he is not permitted to disregard her interests and treat his involvement in Bringham's research merely as a means to his own advancement. If McGovern finds the offer tempting, he should raise the question with Bringham and Martin of how to protect Bringham's interests.
Out of discussion among the three of them might come the prospect of collaboration with Wang's lab. The fact that Wang has shown some data to McGovern and is interested in McGovern's previous research suggests the option is worth exploring. Each lab director has already learned something valuable about research in the other lab. That development, as well as features of the research, may prompt Martin and Wang to consider collaboration. Whether collaboration is a realistic prospect depends on details of the circumstances and on the personalities involved, especially the lab directors.
In any event, Martin, McGovern, and Bringham must consider how to deal fairly with the information they have received about Wang's work. Is simply appropriating the information to advance Bringham's work like taking advantage of information gained in reviewing a proposal or an article? Would Martin, McGovern and Bringham want their own research treated in that way? These are questions they should consider. It seems that they must work out some kind of cooperative arrangement to avoid either lab's taking unfair advantage of the information gained from McGovern's application for a post-doc position. This aspect of the situation adds complexity to the effort by Martin, McGovern and Bringham to protect Bringham's and Martin's interests while allowing McGovern to advance.
In the competitive environment of U.S. science, several research groups may simultaneously pursue very similar lines of research. The assumption that science benefits when research groups compete vigorously underlies funding practices in some government agencies. At the same time, scientists appreciate the benefits that collaboration can bring and the needs that arise for cooperation among competing research groups.
Working out cooperative or sharing arrangements in a competitive landscape demands care and tact. Even communication between competing groups requires thought and attention. In this environment, graduate students and post-docs need thorough orientation to problems and pitfalls if they are to avoid unfortunate blundering. That orientation should include focus on opportunities for collaboration with members of competing research groups and justification for any constraints on contact. This preparation is necessary to protect junior researchers from damaging encounters, to avoid fostering cynicism in junior investigators about practices in science, and to advance research.
Commentary On
This case focuses in an illuminating way on the power disparity between a graduate student and the student's research adviser. A carefully nuanced account of a single incident -- a visit by the adviser to the student's office on a Friday afternoon to ask a favor -- allows the psychological and ethical subtleties of the situation and of the student/adviser relationship to come fully into view.
Because the second year master's student, Joe McGrath, is extremely hard working and productive, he has accomplished enough to have landed a desirable job, with the starting date set. Joe's expertise is needed for a new initiative at the small company that has hired him. This job commitment has resulted in a tight time schedule because Joe must finish his research and complete his thesis before starting the new job. Nevertheless, his research adviser, Dr. Smith, has put him to work providing figures and graphs for a presentation Smith is to make. Although the figures and graphs are based on data Joe and two predecessors collected in the lab, Joe has to set aside his own thesis work to prepare the requested items. In requesting the figures and graphs, has Smith adequately respected the student's needs and interests? Smith appears to have given priority to his own need to have his presentation prepared on time.
When Smith shows up to ask Joe to come in on Saturday, he seems unaware that Joe routinely comes in on Saturday and that taking more time away from his thesis project may interfere with Joe's completing it on time. Smith may be unheeding enough to believe that Joe feels pleased to have been chosen to flesh out Smith's presentation and to ensure that it is ready on time. He may think that Joe appreciates his thanks for time spent on Smith's presentation and his offer to list Joe as fourth author after himself and the other two graduate students who did not finish their degrees. Smith seems to have no idea that Joe is anxious about the time he has lost working on the graphs and is disappointed to be listed as fourth and last author. Nor does he realize that under the pressure of his thesis deadline, Joe is not prepared to question the rationale for this assignment of authorship. In a situation that the student reads as a request he cannot refuse, the adviser seems clueless about the student's discomfort and dissatisfaction. Finally, the student's chagrin at his adviser taking a day off work while the student loses time from his thesis work escapes Smith's notice.
While all these failures of attention and respect for the student's interests show some lack of sensitivity on Smith's part, Joe appears somewhat diffident. We are very comfortable when others read our feelings correctly and are sensitive to our needs and interests. On some occasions, when others fail to pick up clues, it may be necessary, although not easy, to speak up politely. Joe has done well in his studies and in the job market, and he ought to feel some confidence in calling attention to his own interests. He could use this occasion to make Smith aware of his tight schedule. Perhaps they could discuss how best to plan the time ahead after Smith's presentation to ensure that Joe completes his thesis work on time. Joe could mention that he would be interested in further explanation of the criteria for authorship when there is more time for a conversation. There is no harm in Joe's informing Smith that he normally comes in on Saturday to do his own work and that he has found that routine has helped him to progress well.
Not all of Smith's failings are failings of sensitivity. He should be generally aware of the power disparity between student and adviser and should be careful not to take advantage of students, for example, by asking favors students cannot refuse. He should be conscious of where students are in their course of study. Most importantly, he should not mention authorship in a way that allows it to be read as a return for a favor. Authorship criteria should be a matter of research group policy, with rationale provided, and not treated as a personal matter. It is precisely because awarding recognition and credit produces awkwardness and discomfort, raising issues about the value of a person's work, that policies are necessary. Joe should already have encountered discussion in his research group about credit for collecting data as against credit for such contributions as providing figures and graphs. When pressed to take time away from his thesis, he should have known what the recognition for his contribution was likely to be.
The situation in this case indicates the importance of open communication between graduate students and research advisers and the necessity for research group policies that are clearly articulated and explained. This case highlights the need for policies regarding the roles and responsibilities of graduate students in preparing presentations for advisers and preparing presentations that represent team efforts. Explicit ground rules concerning expectations for graduate students in these and other common situations should reduce the likelihood of research advisers' taking advantage of students and increase the likelihood of graduate students' speaking up as their interests require.
Lacking information about why Smith does not plan to work on Saturday, we cannot say whether it is appropriate for him to ask Joe to work on his presentation when he himself does not. If Smith had earlier committed himself to, say, representing the university at an all-day consortium or performing in a community musical production, he might be justified in asking Joe to help out. The last-minute character of Smith's request is harder to justify. In any case, he owes Joe an explanation.
In order to flourish, graduate students need an environment in which they feel safe enough to ask necessary questions and to look out for their own interests appropriately. Policies regarding authorship, the roles and responsibilities of graduate students, and other matters must be decided and articulated within research groups and customized to their particular circumstances. In some areas of research, data compilation may have more importance; in others, analysis may have greater significance and earn greater recognition. By creating an atmosphere in which research group members, including students, feel comfortable discussing the ground rules covering their activities, research advisers can prevent conflicts and disappointments that might pass unnoticed but nevertheless hamper the progress of students.
Commentary On
The lab or research group is the setting for many, if not most, of the cases in research ethics. To avoid problems highlighted in the cases and to promote predictability and fairness, leaders of research groups need to make policies explicit and discuss their rationales. Among the specific arrangements that policies must address are collaborations, in all the variations that can occur within research groups. However, as this case illustrates, collaborations can encompass other contexts that are beyond the scope of the research group's policies, indeed are not covered by any explicit policies. Nevertheless, certain principles -- openness, explicitness, honesty, fairness and consistency -- that underlie appropriate policies within research groups should carry over to other contexts.
In this case, Dr. Jane McDonald and Dr. David Woodford, professors at two different universities, have agreed to collaborate on a research survey for a professional association of which both are members. Previously together as graduate students, they are now good friends. Since there is no mention of funding, it seems reasonable to assume that the professional association does not provide significant funding for the survey. The two professors have agreed to respond to their professional association's request for help, thinking it would be fun. Evidently Jane offers to handle the logistics, with the idea she can get help from a graduate student if necessary.
In due course, Jane enlists the help of a new graduate student, Mark, but apparently without initiating a conversation about authorship. If she has not already oriented this student to her policies regarding authorship, it is time to begin when she approaches him for help on a project that will lead to a paper. She should also inform the student about the authorship arrangement she has made with David, even though he is not a member of their research group. Explanation of her authorship policies would fit very naturally with information about how she and David plan to divide the work.
Jane should realize that Mark may be too diffident, or may not know enough, to ask about authorship. Flattered to be chosen to participate, he probably does not think about how one gets appropriate credit or even consider whether he will find the work itself interesting. This situation is a template of a not uncommon experience for graduate students. Advisers and research group leaders should be alert to the possibility of causing reactions like Mark's, which make it all too easy for senior investigators to take advantage of graduate students.
As far as we can tell, Mark completes his tasks in timely fashion. Apparently, Jane cannot count on David to come through with his analysis and final report in time for her to present them at an upcoming conference. She, therefore, enlists Mark to perform the data analysis and produce the final report. To be accurate, honest and fair in her conference presentation, Jane should acknowledge Mark's work. She would deceive her audience if she led or allowed them to believe that she performed the data analysis and produced the final report herself.
It appears that Mark has completed most, if not all, of the work to which Jane had committed herself and has completed David's share as well. Before proceeding with the paper, Jane has a duty to review the authorship agreement with David and with Mark. The division of labor has not turned out as planned, which is not unusual. The changes require modification of the original agreement between Jane and David regarding authorship. If David does not contribute to producing the paper, there is no basis for including him as an author. David should be fully informed about Mark's handling the logistical aspects and stepping in to perform the data analysis and prepare the final report as well. If David is available for advice and consultation while Jane prepares the paper, she can add an acknowledgment regarding his support.
Jane and David should have learned such practices for dealing with authorship and giving credit when they were graduate students together. Moreover, Jane should be aware that by her conduct she conveys to her students standards for research and authorship in her field, not least in undertaking research for her professional association.
Jane's treatment of Mark in connection with writing the final paper, as described in the case, is inexcusable. She invites him to collaborate in writing the final paper, he agrees, and then she writes it alone in a two-month period, without informing him about what she is doing. If she is under an unanticipated time constraint and concludes that collaboration will take too long, she is obligated to let Mark know. Surely there is time for that. Perhaps Jane has made the invitation out of a momentary sense of indebtedness. Ethically speaking, she cannot use the invitation as a way of thanking Mark. Because Jane has led Mark to expect that he will be involved in writing the paper, she must follow through with collaboration or inform Mark why she cannot. She has a moral duty to respect his interests and must not use him merely as a means to her own ends.
Is Jane merely careless and not well organized? Does she have a problem with being forthright when she has to deal with developments that may disappoint colleagues or students? We do not know the answers to these questions. In any case, these are personal traits that interfere with responsible dealings with colleagues and students, causing avoidable harm, especially to students not in a position to defend their interests.
Can Mark be faulted for not raising questions and looking out for his interests along the way? After completing work on the logistics, Mark is entitled to ask whether he will receive some kind of credit - an acknowledgement, perhaps. After another two weeks or so devoted to data analysis and preparation of the final report, Mark should have questions about criteria for authorship, and he should feel justified in raising them. By this point, he should have a sense of the importance of credit and authorship, and he should not be diffident. Graduate students should not remain passive, expecting others to look out for their interests. We should note, however, that first year students often need prompting or support to ask the questions they need to have answered.
The title of this case, "Friendship vs. Authorship," suggests that the author views Jane's failure to revise the authorship assignment as attributable to Jane's relationship with David. As noted above, Jane has no justification for listing David as an author. Even if David is unaware of Mark's contributions, he should not accept listing as an author. David knows how little he contributed to producing the paper. When colleagues who are friends list each other as co-authors on papers without actually collaborating, both are culpable. Such behavior corrupts the process and does damage to any who are unjustifiably denied authorship. When the behavior comes to light, it provokes resentment and fosters cynicism.
This case shows how damaging unethical handling of authorship can be. The graduate student does not get appropriate credit for his contribution. Finding himself listed as third author though playing no part in the writing process, he is likely to be confused about what authorship signifies. Moreover, he undoubtedly realizes that he has come up with publishable findings that he cannot now publish. As the author of the case and commentary suggests, the best way for students to extract something positive from such predicaments is "to take responsibility for becoming informed about how best to handle issues of authorship in the future."
Commentary On
This brief case includes more issues for discussion than might appear at first sight. First, it usefully draws attention to issues about the status of data that are seldom discussed. From past work on sharing data, we have learned how conventions affect what counts as data.
What criteria should determine whether data are counted as "preliminary"? How should preliminary data be presented, and in what contexts are the data appropriate? These are questions raised by this case. It is not obvious that they can be answered globally for application to all research environments, but they must be answered locally and, specifically, for the research environment in this case. Centering on the lab director's handling of the graduate student's data in a proposal, the case is designed to address issues about misconduct in science. Because of ambiguities in the situation, it is not clear whether the lab director's treatment of the student's data is unethical. However, there are obviously serious enough problems in communication of ethical standards, laboratory policies and accepted investigative practices to have led the graduate student to suspect misconduct.
As a second year graduate student, Penelope Brighton is a relative newcomer to the world of scientific research. As far as we know, she has not had experience in other labs, unless perhaps in rotating through labs in her first year of graduate study. It does not appear that Brighton has had the advantage of an orientation to issues of scientific research ethics. So she is unprepared for considering her lab director's use of her data in the light of well and justifiably accepted practices. Dr. David Gilligan, the lab director and apparently director of Brighton's thesis research, is a "highly productive, well-published, respected investigator whose students receive prestigious post-docs." With these qualifications, he seems ideal for heading a lab and directing thesis research. Indeed, Brighton seems to be making swift progress in her graduate studies, for in her first, quick experiments as part of her thesis work she has come up with potentially interesting results that excite Gilligan.
He thinks enough of her work to use her results as preliminary data in a grant proposal he is writing. Lacking information about any conversations between Gilligan and Brighton regarding Brighton's following up the initial experiments, we do not know whether she has proceeded to follow up with in-depth, well-controlled experiments on her own initiative. Nor do we know whether Gilligan is even aware that Brighton is moving ahead and making changes in several experimental conditions. If she has proceeded on her own unbeknownst to Gilligan, he has justification for including only her earlier, cruder data and for referring to it as preliminary. Timing is a key consideration, for Gilligan must submit the proposal within a short time and may justifiably judge that there is not enough time to carry out and validate further experiments. Funding agencies depend on well proven investigators to judge in the light of accepted standards when data should be considered preliminary and yet worth presenting.
Brighton manages to complete additional, more refined experiments before Gilligan actually submits the proposal. With changes in experimental conditions to eliminate certain staining, Brighton gets results that do not look like the results from her earlier, cruder experiments. The new results tend not to fit the hypothesis that she and Gilligan had formulated from the earlier experiments. Confident that her new data are reliable, Brighton concludes that the characterization of the protein, which is the aim of her experiments, "may not be as straightforward as originally expected." Apparently Gilligan does not have time to examine Brighton's new results carefully. He may judge that he can nevertheless trust his earlier excitement over Brighton's initial data, believing that she is on her way to interesting results.
To Brighton's dismay, she cannot interest Gilligan in putting her new results in the proposal. He says he must get the grant application out the door and "will deal with the staining details later." For the proposal, he asks Brighton to supply a figure using one of the cells that fits their hypothesis. The figure appears in the proposal, apparently with no mention of the additional data that would make it appear to be an atypical result. According to the author of the case, Gilligan suggests that all of the data completely support the hypothesis. Whether he makes this suggestion merely by omitting the additional data or by explicit statement, we do not know. If he states in the proposal that all the data support their hypothesis, his action is more open to objection than if he simply omits the later data. Given the time constraint, Gilligan could justifiably decide on a cut-off point after which he excludes data that he has not examined in detail.
When Brighton reads the grant she is shocked by the "spin" Gilligan has given the data. In discussing the draft with Gilligan, she stresses that most of the data do not agree with their hypothesis. It is noteworthy that Gilligan has given the draft to Brighton to read and that he discusses it with her. Perhaps he does not allow enough discussion, but he does not use his power to shut her out and deprive her of an opportunity to speak her mind about the use of her data in the proposal. Gilligan's defense of including only Brighton's earlier data is worth examining.
His remark that standards for presenting data as preliminary results in a grant application are less stringent than those for publishing data in a journal article may be read in two different ways. If his point is that preliminary data in a grant application are not required to meet the same standards of reliability as data not identified as preliminary in a journal article, his comment is defensible. It points to complexities in the legitimate use of data in different contexts. If the remark refers to data identified as preliminary in both contexts, then Gilligan owes Brighton an explanation to account for the difference. It is more likely that he intends the first reading.
Gilligan argues that it is better, presumably prudentially better, to present the data his way. This response is not necessarily ethically objectionable. The crude data, labeled "preliminary," had excited him, a highly competent investigator. He might reasonably expect reviewers to be similarly excited. There is no evidence in the case that Gilligan has asked Brighton for the follow-up experiments intending to include them in the "preliminary" data. So we do not have a basis for judging that he excludes her data because the results do not support their hypothesis. As noted earlier, follow-up and checking of new results would take time when time is short. Rushing the process might leave them with results no longer reasonably described as preliminary, but without enough data and time to suitably revise the hypothesis. Better not to complicate the proposal with new data Brighton has managed to produce, when, as it appears, the new data have not been scrutinized for reliability and time is too short for that effort. Gilligan judges that it is a better strategy for winning funding not to mention the later findings; they might create doubt among the grant reviewers.
If Gilligan has convincing evidence that their hypothesis lacks support, his action is ethically objectionable. That Brighton is confident of her results does not show that Gilligan has convincing evidence of that kind. Brighton's view of Gilligan's conduct appears to be colored by her confidence in her new results. Yet even she concludes only that the characterization of the protein may not be as straightforward as originally expected. Unless Gilligan has clearly implied or explicitly indicated in the proposal that characterization of the protein will be straightforward, he is not misleading the reviewers. The path from preliminary, exciting data to ultimate findings is often not straightforward. Experienced investigators expect surprises that may complicate matters. Unexpected findings can add to the interest and illumination of experimental work.
This interpretation of the situation is reasonable on the basis of information in the case. Access to the proposal might put a different light on the situation, and it may be that Gilligan uses the time constraint as an excuse to simplify the proposal submission. Perhaps he avoids examining data that he suspects to be strong, but complicating. To the extent that he has reason to be skeptical of the hypothesis in the proposal and presents it without qualification, his conduct is ethically objectionable. He also takes a chance of being wrong and having to deal with the consequences.
In any event, Brighton should try to find others more experienced in this or other labs with whom to discuss her concerns. She needs to test her reactions against the responses of others. An especially good resource would be an individual or office in the university involved with research ethics, because Brighton needs a sound basis for assessing other scientists' reactions. It might be a good move for Brighton to initiate a conversation with Gilligan about dealing with the staining details, for Gilligan has committed himself to addressing those details after sending off the proposal. She will have an opportunity to ask more questions about the proposal submission and his use of her data. From that conversation Brighton should get a better sense of Gilligan's reasons for his handling of her data in the proposal. She should learn how he will deal with her unexpected, complicating findings. As an outcome, she should have a better sense of whether Gilligan is to be trusted.
If in the end, she is convinced that he has handled her data unethically in the proposal, she must take some kind of action because she cannot continue to work under someone she believes to be unworthy of her trust. To extricate herself, she must begin by seeking advice from a person or an office she can trust to take a balanced view of her situation. On the information in this case, Brighton does not have enough evidence to raise an issue of serious wrongdoing. She has reason to try to stimulate discussion of the use of preliminary data in grant proposals and what should count as preliminary data. Also worth discussing is the question of how well supported a result must be before it is presented in various settings, a seminar in the lab, in another university, in a meeting abstract, in a progress report for the department or in a published paper. Appropriate settings for such discussions would be lab meetings, graduate student gatherings, research ethics seminars or the like.
For responsible reporting of results, it is essential to explain fully and honestly the experimental basis and to make no claim to have reported all the data when withholding data. It is not clear that Gilligan has violated these strictures. If he has, he has acted unethically. And he has also failed to model ethical standards in a kind of situation that is critical for educating graduate students in research ethics.
Commentary On
This case is unusual in focusing on a relationship between a student and his laboratory director to raise questions about scientists' obligations to constituencies outside the lab, and to the public, alongside obligations within the lab. Tracing the evolution of the relationship from the student's entry into the lab to his eventual success in reaching his research goals, the narrative offers a relatively unproblematic history of the student's progress in graduate study. Until near the end when the lab director, Michael McCleary, must prepare the patent applications, he and the student, Larry Jones, seem to get along well and understand one another.
At this juncture, their perspectives diverge significantly. Apparently, Jones has been motivated all along by the desire to help conquer a genetic disease. By producing an improved characterization of the gene, he could create a genetic test to show whether an individual carries the mutant allele. While McCleary's lab does not put a major emphasis on this disease, McCleary is accommodating, either as a general policy or out of the realization that Jones's motivation to make an inroad on Kruese's disease may be productive. He promises Jones considerable flexibility concerning his research focus. His accommodation consists in no small part in helping Jones with funding, allotting funds to him from grants already in the lab, and supporting Jones's own applications for funding. One grant Jones manages to win comes from the American Society for the Prevention of Kruese's Disease (ASPKD), an award that allows him to live in relative comfort during his six years of research. McCleary also makes available in the lab an excellent team of technicians whose cooperation proves vital to Jones's success.
It is reasonable to argue that Jones has incurred an obligation to each of these sources of help, and perhaps to others. He is indebted to McCleary for taking him into the lab, for his guidance, for his substantial help with funding, and for making the technicians' assistance available, along with other lab resources. Jones has obligations to all the agencies that contributed funding to his research: He owes them diligent, careful use of the research funds received. Does the obligation to ASPKD include making the outcome of his research available in some form to the Society? With no information about any arrangement between Jones and ASPKD on this matter, the reader cannot tell whether Jones owes ASPKD something more than diligence in his research. Apart from any explicit arrangement, he might think he owes the Society some kind of access to his results under certain conditions. If Jones has no sense of a special obligation to ASPKD, the question arises whether he should acknowledge such an obligation because this non-profit organization is devoted entirely to raising money to conquer Kruese's disease, and because it has allowed Jones to live in relative comfort as a graduate student. There is also a question of what obligation, if any, Jones has to society.
McCleary's perspective is quite different. As a lab chief, he has a duty to look out for the interests of his lab: its continuing financial viability and the ongoing funding of productive graduate students. Equally important is the obligation to maintain an ethical climate in which understandings about appropriate conduct and their rationales are explicit and channels of communication are in place and well used. Because research results in the lab have potential for patenting, this lab director has an obligation to ensure not only that students are aware of policies that govern patenting but also that they have thoroughly discussed ethical issues associated with patenting. In the course of discussion, the lab director should ensure that pros and cons of patenting health related results are well considered.
McCleary himself may have settled views about patenting, but he must recognize that graduate students need opportunities, beginning early in their research, to consider the issues for themselves. Patenting is a relatively new component of graduate study, and for that reason alone it requires specific attention. Beyond that, the patenting of research results seems to violate common assumptions about the importance of openness in science and accessibility to research findings. McCleary himself agrees with Jones that patents may hinder further research. In the case of health-related research results, social justice concerns about the increased costs from patenting and hence fair distribution of benefits add to the general concerns about availability of findings.
When McCleary brings up the matter of patenting, his top priority is the lab's funding support and prestige. In contrast, Jones's chief concern is the continuation of research that builds on his results. Whether or not discussion of patenting in the lab at earlier junctures prepared Jones for this moment, he and McCleary now have divergent priorities. It would be useful to open for discussion some of these issues that may or may not have been discussed earlier. One issue that should be considered concerns reasonable expectations of the ASPKD. In addition, Jones can discuss this matter with a representative of the Society. In the abstract, it might seem desirable for Jones to handle his results in such a way that they directly benefit the ASPKD and are available at lower cost to potential patients than patenting would permit. Yet from discussion, Jones may come to see that, in view of existing institutional arrangements that he has tacitly accepted, he has fulfilled his obligation to the Society by doing good research.
University policy excludes Jones from participation in the patent. The fairness of this policy is worth discussion. From the outside, it may seem unfair in view of the fact that the patent applies to the results of Jones's research. However, keeping in mind that Jones is indebted to McCleary for guidance, funding and other resources and that McCleary alone is writing the patent applications, we may judge that the policy does not work unfairly in this case. It may be reasonable, then, to say that, in accord with university policy, McCleary does not have an obligation to include Jones in the patent.
If Jones has incurred obligations to family members, he will have opportunities in the future to repay them for their support. He should not lose sight of those obligations even though they do not seem to pose interesting questions for discussion within the research group.
Remaining as an important matter for discussion is the issue of whether and to what extent patenting constitutes a hindrance to further research. Is there empirical evidence that it is more than a transitory barrier? Does the prospect of patenting provide incentives that promote research, compensating for the temporary hindrance from proprietary control? These questions involve broad, complex issues that have received scholarly attention and merit further investigation.
Commentary On
This case highlights the issue of fairness in listing inventors on a patent application from an academic laboratory. However, concern about a professor's fairness in wielding power over a graduate student appears to shape the presentation of the situation, with the focus on the professor, his student and their relationship. Omitting any introduction to the laboratory setting, the narrative reflects the isolation of the professor/student relationship, as if no one else is present and there are no practices or policies to guide decisions about patenting.
Only one detail refers to the world outside the laboratory and this professor/student relationship: the fact that the experimental work is to identify genes associated with heart disease. The potential for contributing to understanding and treatment of heart disease provides a basis for considering -- within the research group -- broad policy questions about openness and accessibility of research results. Apparently, no such discussion has taken place before Glen, the professor, asks Sarah, one of his graduate students, to carry out additional experiments on a cDNA he has cloned. Sarah is to characterize fully the importance of Glen's discovery.
Initially, this work is not part of Sarah's doctoral thesis. We do not know whether Sarah had already started another project for her thesis that might be put at risk by the new assignment. There is no indication that Glen discussed with Sarah the relation of the new assignment to her doctoral thesis. Even if he believes, on the basis of her prior work, that she is likely to succeed with the new assignment and will not be delayed in finishing her doctoral work, Glen has a responsibility to discuss this matter with Sarah.
Fortunately, Sarah's commitment to a major three-year effort on this project proves to be productive. Her progress in characterizing the gene is substantial enough for Sarah and Glen to prepare a manuscript for submission to Nature. Neither the circumstances of submission nor the fate of the manuscript are mentioned again in Section 1. We do not know whether this omission indicates that the preparation of the manuscript is unproblematic or whether the writing of the paper is simply obscured by the patenting issues. It may be that procedures for manuscript preparation are better understood in this lab than policies and practices surrounding patenting, a relatively new option. That is not to say that there are no questions about Glen's management of authorship when in Section 2 he awards Sarah the position of first author on the paper.
Glen discusses with Sarah the commercial potential of the gene sequence she has helped to characterize, explains how he intends to patent the gene sequence through the university's technology transfer office, and speaks of the submission of "our patent." In this way, he leads her to expect to be included in the patent on the gene sequence. He seems to have offered no opening for a discussion of ethical issues associated with patenting. Although Sarah has "reservations" about the appropriateness of patenting her results, she is excited by the prospect of her first patent and keeps her reservations to herself. Her response is natural and unsurprising in view of her hard work over a long period and Glen's apparent comfort with patenting. Because reactions such as Sarah's are predictable, professors engaged in research with a potential for patenting have a responsibility to open discussion with graduate students about guidelines for patenting well before students become involved in the procedures. The occasion of transmitting oral or written guidelines concerning patent applications offers an opportunity to initiate discussion of ethical issues associated with patenting. It seems that Glen has not made a point of supplying guidelines, for Sarah has no knowledge of guidelines concerning patenting.
Professors engaged in research with potential for patenting have an ethical responsibility to give attention to patenting practices and policies: to formulate policies, to make sure that the policies are fair, that students are aware of the policies, and that students have an opportunity to consider the justification for patenting before they are drawn into the patenting process. Patenting should not be taken for granted as merely a component of scientific work like publishing. Since patenting confers proprietary control, it needs special justification. The patenting of discoveries related to human health has been an ethically controversial issue from the beginning of academics' efforts to patent their discoveries (early in the last century).
The failure to discuss such ethically debatable matters has significance beyond the impact on graduate students like Sarah who find themselves going along with procedures despite qualms about the ethical defensibility of what they are doing. Such failures contribute to an environment in science of treating unresolved issues of consequence to the welfare of society as if consensus already exists. Acting in this way, scientists help to settle important, controversial questions in advance of or in the absence of public discussion. By the time members of the public learn of and react to such developments as the patenting of genes, the developments have acquired momentum not easy to halt or slow down.
Failure to discuss relevant questions within research groups issue from and contribute to a climate that distances scientists from the social impact of their work. When public debate does occur, often scientists are not inclined to enter in with thoughtful contributions. They frequently fall back on the claim that they have no special expertise about the public's concerns. Such responses can be disingenuous when scientists have overlooked their own responsibilities to discuss issues (such as gene patenting in this case) within their research groups. Prior discussion within research groups might allow scientists to develop insights useful to the public debate.
These considerations notwithstanding, the question remains of whether Sarah has an obligation to raise questions about the patent process and manuscript generation. Intimidating as the graduate student environment can sometimes be, students have some responsibility for their own education. They have to learn how to ask questions, of whom and when. Timidity with respect to matters of appropriate behavior, particularly in the face of ethical doubts, has neither ethical nor prudential justification. Institutional policies may help to ensure that research groups in the institution have explicit policies and that students are informed about the policies. However, students, their professors and their institutions all have responsibility to see that students are adequately informed about patent policies and practices.
It is only after Sarah becomes more deeply involved in the patenting process by generating additional data and providing this material to the university's designated law office engaged in drafting the patent submission that she learns she is not included on the patent. Because the application represents her manuscript, she at last confronts Glen. He defends his decision to make himself sole inventor, but not by referring to a policy or a practice. Instead, he points out that he made the initial discovery, that Sarah will be allowed to put the results in her dissertation, and that she can be first author on the publication describing the gene. Should these points convince Sarah that Glen's decision is fair?
If Glen has spoken plainly to Sarah in referring to "our patent," he has misled her to expect to be included in the patent. He owes her an explanation, if not an apology. His use of Sarah's manuscript as the basis of the patent application no doubt heightens her expectations. It is remarkable that Sarah could become so essential to the patenting process without getting clear information about whether she is to be included as an inventor and without asking direct questions on that point. Glen should not have used her manuscript for the patent application without making clear the terms. Misleading Sarah and taking advantage of her subordinate position are ethically objectionable. As a matter of prudence, Sarah should not have proceeded on a tacit understanding, counting on certain "signs" that she would be included as an inventor. If there was an oral agreement between Glen and Sarah that she would be included, Glen is ethically in the wrong for breaking his promise.
Because Glen has not previously made Sarah aware of any policies concerning patenting, his justification for making himself sole inventor appears to be ad hoc. He has not given her a basis for thinking he would decide another case similarly. Since her work is essential to the patent application, she might think he would have come to a different decision if she had raised the issue earlier. Though Glen may not have made a convincing case for his decision, Sarah apparently drops the matter and places her reliance on carrying out additional successful research. Without informing Glen, she performs more experiments to identify the human form of the gene. After identifying another closely related gene, she presents the data to Glen and then to her thesis committee. Now Glen instructs her to include the new material and agrees to include her as an inventor in a revised patent.
The outcome for Sarah is not damaging insofar as she is included in the patent, she can include the findings in her dissertation, and she can be first author on a joint paper with Glen. Nevertheless, she has had a damaging experience in other respects. She has experienced ethically objectionable treatment from her professor, and she has been exposed to neglect of standards in science, including ethical standards, that could undermine high ethical aspirations and trust. The experience could leave her cynical or discouraged about a career in science.
There are significant efforts in a number of scientific disciplines associated with codes of ethics, and there is perhaps a growing interest in an international oath of ethical commitment by scientists.
This case shows the damage that can result from negligence with regard to establishing local policies governing patenting: The student is left unprotected from the power of a professor. If Glen had in the end refused Sarah co-inventor status, Sarah would have been without recourse unless she was lucky enough to be in a position to appeal to university policies, a university office for dealing with conflicts over authorship and patents, a sophisticated, diplomatic department chair or another senior person with local influence. In her own research group, policies that might protect graduate students' interests are lacking.
Commentary On
Stevens's experience suggests that this graduate department puts a premium on graduate students' publishing work before finishing their PhDs. The department does not ensure that students are familiar with conventions and procedures governing publishing in this field, however. It is careless, if not unfair, to encourage students to publish while failing to give them an appreciation of publication practices and standards.
Cordage's supervision of Steven's first paper is irresponsible. Limiting himself to one student (Stevens) because of his responsibilities as department chair, Cordage owes him the same careful attention owed any student. Evidently, Cordage does not look carefully at Stevens's first paper before encouraging him to submit it to an obscure journal. When Cordage belatedly gets around to studying the paper, he realizes that it merits publication in a more prestigious journal. Omitting to inform Stevens of his discovery, Cordage revises the paper on his own and submits it for publication in a well-regarded journal, without the student's knowledge. His actions in excluding the student from the revision process and taking over the student's work are indefensible. This action is not only an abuse of power. Cordage also denies Stevens an excellent opportunity to learn how to prepare a paper for publication in a highly ranked journal and to learn conventions of publishing in the materials science field. In a gesture that reflects an image of his student as a mere subordinate rather than a budding colleague, Cordage informs the student only when the paper is accepted - not in person, but by email.
Understandably, Cordage's action leaves Stevens confused and disturbed. Do Cordage's actions amount to publishing the same paper twice? Is it legitimate to do that? Having been excluded from the revision process, Stevens is reluctant to raise such questions with Cordage, fearful of "making waves." Seeing nowhere to turn for answers to his questions, Stevens does nothing. His puzzlement and timidity about asking questions show the damage from Cordage's high-handed treatment of him with respect to the second submission.
Stevens does not forget the incident. Months later, he is dismayed to discover that Cordage's publishing record contains a large fraction of papers published once in conference proceedings and once in a journal. Now Stevens must confront the issue, in all likelihood, even more stymied about what to think and where to turn. Unless he has relationships with other senior members of the department or someone trustworthy and knowledgeable outside the department, he has no choice but to raise his questions with Cordage. He could prepare by seeking advice from someone knowledgeable in a research office or ethics center, for example, about how to raise his questions in a tactful way, seeking information and guidance without judging prematurely.
Because the questions that disturb Stevens concern issues of importance for the responsible conduct of science and require careful consideration, it is unfortunate that Stevens feels blocked from raising them with his adviser. Discussion might have brought out justification for publishing the second version of Stevens's own paper. If the work merits greater visibility, publishing the second version can be ethically justifiable so long as the prior publication is acknowledged. That is so despite the fact that the second version is a result of Cordage's scanty attention to the first version. Investigators can have good reasons for republishing work (for example, when they make changes in interpretation). These are matters to be aired in graduate departments and research groups. Questions about what makes papers the same or different and how different they must be to count as distinct should also generate worthwhile and interesting discussions in departments and research groups. Lacking information about Cordage's "duplicate" publications, we cannot say whether they were justified or not. Assuredly, the later publication should acknowledge the earlier one.
Interdisciplinary research raises additional issues because the findings may be of interest to quite distinct audiences, each associated with a different journal or set of journals. Members of interdisciplinary collaborations should anticipate this issue and should agree -- before problems come to the fore -- on publication arrangements that can be publicly defended if they are not already compatible with journals' policies. Again, prior publication or publication in other venues should be acknowledged. That is required not only to prevent underhanded dealing but also to guide other investigators and readers to other versions of or perspectives on the findings.
Cordage's supervision of his graduate student cannot be defended, ethically speaking. It appears that a case can be made to justify publishing Stevens's work a second time in a well-regarded journal. As to Cordage's publication record, we do not have enough information to pass judgment. However, the practices it reflects should be a matter of open discussion in the department.
Commentary On
The account in this case is the more telling for revealing the adviser's remoteness without making a point of it. Mike, a post-doc, and Lisa, an advanced graduate student, share the spotlight, but their adviser, an important figure in the situation, remains unnamed and in the background. Whether wittingly or not, the adviser contributes to unfairly denying the graduate student credit for her work or an acknowledgment of her contribution. And he falls short in his training of both the post-doc and the graduate student by intervening clumsily in a potentially fruitful collaboration.
Set in a large lab, the situation in this case is remarkably isolated. There are no glimpses of the surroundings or hints of policies, procedures, or structures in the lab that might have prevented this problematic situation. Left to themselves, the two friends, a post-doc who is theoretically oriented and a graduate student who is a talented experimentalist, cooperate to complete the solution to the post-doc's problem. As an outcome of this success, they undertake a more extensive collaboration, in which the graduate student designs and builds the experiment to support the post-doc's new theoretical idea.
It is striking that no discussion between the friends about allocation of credit is recorded. Apparently they proceed with Lisa silently trusting Mike, believing that she will get due credit, and Mike focusing on successfully confirming his ideas. If the adviser is genuinely ignorant of Lisa's role as the experimentalist, he is negligent. Advisers should be in close touch with the work in their labs and the activities of their advisees. They should not be clueless in such a situation, and they should know the capacities, strengths, and weaknesses of their advisees.
However, the advisees are not blameless. It is natural for post-docs and graduate students to be inclined to report when they are excited about findings. They must learn the importance of keeping advisers abreast of their research activities, including collaborations. Lisa apparently does not even inform her adviser of her experimental success in completing the earlier problem, let alone her work on the new problem. The adviser seems to be unaware of her contribution when he suggests a single author paper. However, he should know that Mike lacks experimental adeptness. When advising Mike about publication, he has an opportunity to inquire about efforts to obtain experimental support. The advisees' reticence does not excuse the adviser's ignorance.
If the adviser has been informed about Lisa's contribution and overlooks it, he is even more at fault. He has a duty as an adviser to keep track of such matters. We can only speculate about whether he has a bias toward theoretical work or male students. But the adviser should be aware of the dangers of such destructive bias. Mike takes advantage of the adviser's failure of attention. He is guilty of deceiving or misleading the adviser in not informing or reminding him of Lisa's involvement in his project. In representing to Lisa that he is inclined to aim for a single author paper because that is what his adviser wants, he is disingenuous. He misleads her to her detriment without uttering an actual falsehood. Admitting by implication that Lisa might have reason to feel cheated if he uses her data without acknowledgment, he tries to get her to agree to go along by putting the burden on her. How cheated will she feel?
Lisa is disappointed and unwilling to go along, and she throws the choice back to Mike and his sense of what is right. Naively and timidly trusting Mike and her adviser, Lisa is at fault for failing to protect her own interests. She should have made it more difficult for their adviser to overlook her contribution. And she should have summoned the courage to point out to Mike that he so much as admitted that by publishing the paper as a single author, he would cheat her. While the standards for authorship in this situation are not clear, some acknowledgment of her work is clearly called for.
This case is useful for bringing out the loss to science and to promising scientists that can result when advisers fail in their obligations to stay in close touch with advisees, to establish an atmosphere of openness in the lab, and to provide a framework of expectations and procedures.
Commentary On
The vulnerability of graduate students and post-docs is the concern that drives many research ethics cases. Subject to the power of principal investigators and others in authority, graduate students and post-docs figure in situations in which they seem to be at the mercy of senior investigators. In many cases, supervisors appear to have failed to devise effective channels of communication and to set out explicit policies for control of data and publication. This case shows how such a failure by a principal investigator can harm that investigator's own interests in publication and recognition. The issue of fairness, as the title suggests, is central. Does Abbott treat her master's student with fairness? Does the student deal fairly with Abbott? In the background are issues about the working of the "system," for example, the overburdening of an untenured assistant professor.
Abbott is an over-worked tenure-track assistant professor who has adequate funding but a modest publication record. Busy with extensive teaching duties and many graduate students, Abbott has to take on Mary, a newly admitted terminal master's candidate. She places Mary in an ongoing project in her lab, apparently without providing for careful orientation.
Although Mary does well in graduate study and gets along reasonably well with Abbott, she does not see her supervisor often, but she is in touch with other students and a post-doc in the lab. Finding basic research exciting, she decides to pursue a Ph.D. in biochemistry instead of following her original plan to go into medicine. When Mary discusses with Abbott her plan to continue her graduate studies at another university, Abbott, in the midst of her many duties, appears to concern herself only with the most pressing issue, writing a letter of recommendation for Mary. Omitted from discussion are matters related to Mary's separation from the lab, for example, the matter of data management.
At the close of her second year of graduate study, when Mary has finished her work in Abbott's lab and has been accepted for graduate study elsewhere, she agrees with Abbott to write papers based on her master's research, after settling into her new place. Evidently, Abbott again fails to have a full discussion with Mary about issues raised by her separation from the lab. Such matters as control of data, authorship, and recognition should be covered by clear policies, which should have been explained to Mary at the outset of her graduate study.
Occasions for review of policies and expectations are offered by Mary's announcement of her intention to pursue the Ph.D., Mary's thesis defense, and Abbott's discussion with Mary about Mary's future publication plans. It may be that Abbott gives more careful attention to her Ph.D. students and post-doc and tends to ignore an able master's student in her lab. Nevertheless, Mary goes off, inspired to pursue further study, having learned the ropes, to the extent that she has learned them, from other graduate students and the post-doc.
After Mary's departure, Abbott becomes even busier. While carrying an increased teaching load, Abbott does consulting work for local biotechnology firms, and she is writing a new grant proposal based partly on data generated by the projects Mary and the other graduate students carried out. This reliance on the data generated by her students is a point of some importance. Abbott's use of that data indicates its value for continuing funding, as well as for advancing knowledge and gaining recognition. Attending to her students' data in writing the proposal should jog Abbott's memory about the publications she expects from Mary. This should be an occasion for renewing contact with Mary. Apparently, until spring of the following year, Abbott is out of touch with Mary. She never hears from Mary, and she does not follow up on Mary's progress in writing papers based on her master's work. Then, browsing through the abstracts for the upcoming Biochemistry Society's meeting, she notices an abstract submitted by Mary and her new adviser at the university where she is now a Ph.D. student. Realizing that the work it describes is very similar to the master's research Mary had carried out in her lab, Abbott must have some questions. 1) Is the work reported actually based on Marys research in Abbott's lab? 2) If so, why does it carry her new adviser's name as one of the authors? 3) Has Mary taken any other steps to report publicly her master's research?
There are several reasons for Abbott to contact Mary and pursue answers to these questions. In the grant proposal presumably submitted by now, Abbott has used data that Mary generated. If the first public report of Mary's data is in the abstract for the annual meeting, there may be complications for Abbott's grant proposal. Assuming that the review process is not complete and that the abstract covering data in the proposal, without Abbott's name, comes to the attention of reviewers, the latter may have some questions that could delay a decision. Even if events do not unfold in such a way as to interfere with an award of funding for the new proposal, Abbott may have difficulty garnering credit for her contribution to the research achievements of her students and post-docs. This result may not be unfair, at least with respect to students like Mary, who received little attention from her.
In addition, there may be continuing confusion about the source of the research. Who performed it? In what research group? This confusion could create difficulties for following up or building upon the research. Moreover, the integrity of the research process is at issue. Appropriate ethical standards require that a person in authority can account for the handling, maintenance, use and interpretation of data produced with her funding. It seems that Abbott, caught up in her many duties, has not taken ordinary prudent precautions to protect data upon which she herself depends for future funding. This dependence is one important consideration directors of research often invoke to defend their control over data generated from their funded projects by graduate students and post-docs.
Lacking information about the situation Mary finds as a new student in Jonas's lab, we cannot be certain about the basis for including Jonas's name on the abstract. The abstract seems to depend on work Mary did in Abbott's research group. However, it may turn out that the abstract in whole or in part reports new work Mary did in Jonas's lab. We may safely assume that Mary would have informed Abbott if she had completed any of the expected papers. It may now be too late for Mary to publish the papers she led Abbott to expect.
The fairness issue must be considered in light of the preceding discussion. In failing to give Mary an appropriate orientation to graduate study, Abbott treats Mary unfairly, especially if Abbott is more careful with the Ph.D. students and post-doc. Having left Mary on her own to carry out research, Abbott cannot fairly claim to be a co-author of any publications Mary derives from the research unless Abbott contributes significantly to those publications. In fairness, Mary should acknowledge Abbott for funding support in any publications Mary produces from research in Abbott's lab. On the facts given, it does not seem that Abbott has a legitimate claim to having her name included as an author even if the abstract is based on data from her grant.
Mary's failure to contact Abbott after her departure is open to ethical criticism. She had led Abbott to expect papers from her, and she owes Abbott a follow-up. Mary's failure would be more objectionable had Abbott paid careful attention to Mary. If Mary is unfair in this respect, her unfairness mirrors Abbott's treatment of her. However, to the extent that Mary's published abstract is based on her research in Abbott's lab, fairness to Abbott is not the only problem about the inclusion of Jonas's name on the abstract. It is deceptive to name the new adviser if he had nothing to do with the work covered in the abstract. To the extent that he actually contributed to the abstract, it is less defensible to charge Mary with unfairness and deception.
It may be that Jonas has insisted on adding his name while contributing little or nothing to the abstract. The less Jonas contributes and the more he insists, the more unfair to Mary. If the abstract represents Mary's work under Abbott and "honorary" listing of Jonas's name, we can be certain that Mary has had no proper orientation to ethical norms in scientific research under either of her advisers. She may not even understand that it is a violation to mention an adviser as author if the adviser contributed nothing. Again, we see why it is important for advisers to articulate clear and defensible policies. While neglecting students may not be as objectionable as insisting upon honorary authorship, it may nevertheless have damaging consequences for research. Among them, perhaps, is ruling out opportunities for productive sharing and collaboration between two research groups with common interests.
This case raises concerns with the "system" of research and graduate education that have to do with the excessive demands on Abbott. Her heavy schedule does not justify or excuse her management of this graduate student. However, we have to note that arrangements for supporting research and the training of graduate students that put such strains on apparently competent people like Abbott are dangerous to the health of the scientific enterprise. Within research groups and departments, these issues about the "system" should be recognized along with issues about advising, mentoring, authorship, and recognition. They should receive attention in other parts of the system as well (e.g., funding agencies and professional societies).
Commentary On
This brief case features a relationship between a graduate student and his major adviser that becomes very close and then turns sour. The case usefully illustrates one way in which an adviser/student relationship can go off the track. Evidently, over the course of a prolonged relationship, an adviser can fail to establish a persuasive policy about publishing in his field and can leave a student in confusion or disagreement about the best outlet for the student's work. And after benefiting from an adviser's guidance over a sustained period, a graduate student can find it necessary to challenge the adviser's guidance about publishing.
The account offers only one or two hints concerning the roots of the misunderstanding that eventually leads to the rupture between this adviser and this student. During the crucial first month of graduate study, the adviser is very busy and neither finds time to orient the student nor to see to it that the student receives a proper orientation from someone else in the department. This lapse may be one root of the misunderstanding that arises much later. Apparently, neither the university nor the department has a program or mechanism in place that assures each student appropriate orientation to graduate study.
Graduate students should arrive at the outset prepared to ask questions, but they should not be made responsible for orienting themselves. The graduate school environment can be intimidating, and students may not yet have enough information to know what questions to ask. In the first month, policies governing research and publishing need not be laid out in detail, but students should be introduced to conventions associated with research, recognition, and publishing in print and online. Policies and procedures should be in place, and students should get a sense that they operate within a framework of conventions that provide guidelines.
Mark's unusual position as a part-time staff member in the museum under his major adviser's direction may provide a second clue to the misunderstanding that develops. In two different roles under the direction of the same adviser, Mark gains certain benefits but also experiences certain disadvantages. One is the prolongation of his thesis research. About others we cannot be certain, but exaggerated dependence on the adviser, blurred or clouded expectations about performance in the different roles, and excessive reliance on informal arrangements are likely.
It might seem that Mark has adequate time and exposure to learn the ropes about publishing in his field. However, his job duties may obscure that issue so that he does not pay it enough attention. It might seem that Dr. Lee has ample opportunity to brief Mark well in advance about publication arrangements for the completed work. However, in simultaneously supervising him in two different roles, he may lose track of some essential elements of supervision relating to one or the other. Because Mark's expected product is suitable for inclusion in the online national plant database Lee was prominent in creating, Lee must raise the issue of inclusion early on.
It may be that Lee has become so accustomed to directing Mark that he is unable to step back and consider how to negotiate publication. Perhaps, having become an authority in his area, Mark feels somehow entitled to set his own terms, forgetting how important Lee's direction has been to his attaining this status. We can only speculate. A case so scanty in details does not allow inferences. However, Lee is open to ethical criticism for not providing for Mark's orientation to graduate study at the outset and for not guarding sufficiently against the pitfalls of Mark's combining graduate study with a staff position.
In the course of his research, Mark should have shared with Lee his own ambitions regarding publication. Together, they should have thoroughly addressed the impact that inclusion in the database might have on the publication of a book. We do not know if Mark has good evidence for thinking that publication in the database will doom his chances for success with a book. It is unfortunate that he frames his problem with Lee in terms of rights. Deciding about publication in the context of graduate study is not a matter of inherent rights, but of conventions, procedures, expectations they generate, and respect for persons. Advisers commonly play an important role in helping graduate students to publish their research. In an open research environment where there are reasonable, explicit understandings about publication, there should be no purchase for questions about who controls where information will be published.
Commentary On
Discussions of ethical issues in research usually focus on problems arising in the everyday conduct of scientific research and graduate training. This case helpfully draws attention instead to ethical issues concerning the structure of institutions of science. Ethical questions about what functions the institutions should serve and how these institutions should be organized and supported force attention to conventions that should govern.
Interestingly, in drawing attention to conventions, ethical questions about the structure of institutions do not differ from ethical questions about the everyday conduct of science. A frequent outcome of addressing ethical problems or quandaries of everyday research is the explicit statement, clarification, modification or creation of a convention. At the bench level, in the structures and interconnections of institutions, and in the dynamics of interactions with society, conventions and practices shape the conduct of science and define ethical responsibilities of scientists. Ethical problems force ethical scrutiny of conventions and practices and reveal the absence of needed policies and the necessity of correcting practices.
This case provides an opportunity to consider some conventions with regard to the management of a professional society's journal. The quandaries arise for the board of a professional society that joins two related fields and publishes a journal - a venerable, highly regarded publication in both fields - covering broad issues spanning the two fields and their subspecialties. Resolution of the issues in the case has implications for other institutions of science such as peer review, career advancement of science faculty in universities, graduate training and academic presses. Beyond screening scientific reports and propagating new findings, scientific journals play a significant role in the institutional structure of science. The fate of a leading journal is of major concern.
The rise in publication costs in recent years has resulted in a financial crisis for the journal in this case. Published by an academic press, it had managed to survive over a long period through library subscriptions at universities, less costly subscriptions for individual faculty and even cheaper subscriptions for students and scientists from poor countries. At the annual meeting of the society's board, discussion centers on whether to respond to the crisis by raising subscription prices. An alternative, instituting page charges averaging about $1,000 per paper, but making exceptions for authors without resources, might allow the journal to survive without raising subscription prices.
In many fields of science (for example, physics and biology), journals have long-standing practices of assessing page charges, with the understanding that in almost all cases the funds come from the authors' grants. Investigators do not pay the charges out of personal funds. It would, therefore, not be a ground-breaking change for this journal to adopt the practice. The only novelty might be the use of grant funds for page charges in the fields served by the journal. Adoption of page charges might precipitate a need for negotiations with funding sources that support research in these two fields.
At the board meeting on Hilton Head Island, Dr. Ethan Naylor, the society's president, objects to instituting page charges. His objection is not based on practical considerations, but on "values." He argues that to adopt a new convention of making page charges to authors is to say, in effect, that the authors' product is not worth publishing on the basis of its value. Likening academic publishing to publishing in the commercial world, he holds that, if any change is to be made, academic authors should be paid for their contributions to journals. Naylor attaches symbolic value to the shift to page charges but offers a dubious rationale for his view.
In those fields in which it is conventional for investigators to pay page charges to journals, it is an accepted fact of life not freighted with implications about the value of the articles published. A predictable charge to authors for any papers accepted makes no invidious distinctions between authors based on whether or not they subsidize publication of their work. The ranking of journals according to their importance and quality persists in fields where page charges are conventional. The added value of publishing in highly rated journals is available to authors whether they are assessed page charges or not. That value persists at a time when universities and individual university scientists have more involvement with private companies than in the past. The regard of peers for one's work retains its place of importance in academic publishing.
Naylor's suggestion that academic researchers should be paid for their research products substitutes the rewards of the commercial sector for recognition among one's intellectual peers. It would contribute to an increasing orientation toward the commercial sector, not only in replacing or supplementing the value of intellectual recognition with a market value but also in the measures that would have to be taken to provide funds to pay researchers for their papers.
Universities have evolved into institutions primarily devoted to advancing and disseminating knowledge and educating students. In recent years, universities have acquired an added role: to serve as sources of innovation in technology and science that are needed to fuel economic growth. Economists, government spokespersons and others argue that economic flourishing depends upon technological innovation. That thinking has supported the increasing involvement of universities in the commercial sector.
Many who study this trend have become concerned that increasing interdependence between universities and the private sector will bring about the erosion of university values and the gradual adoption by universities of the outlook of the private sector. If that were to happen, universities would lose those features that have made them attractive partners to business firms. It would also represent a loss of maximally open institutions providing independent thought that is very valuable to society. It appears that the resources to pay researchers for their papers would have to come from the commercial sector. The threat that this increase of involvement with the private sector would pose to the independence of published research and the public's trust in the independence of that work would have to be added to the threat already posed by commercial sector support of research itself.
In disseminating research produced and published according to practices that promote the reliability and independence of the published reports, the journals play an important role. Because this journal has a long history and is highly regarded by members of the two fields, it is especially valuable. The board should not consider lightly cutting back on the journal. That the annual meeting takes place on Hilton Head suggests that the two fields covered by the journal are doing well. Their success places a heavier responsibility on the board to deal with the financial crisis in a way that keeps the journal in place and does not threaten its independence. Many professional societies have assumed this responsibility. It is one of the functions that make professional societies valuable.
Making the journal accessible to students and scientists who have limited resources is an ethical as well as a strategic concern. Whether the board decides to raise subscription costs or adopt the practice of making page charges should depend heavily on empirical data. Would a rise in price adequate to meet increased costs put the journal out of bounds for graduate students and scientists from poor countries? An average of $1,000 per paper seems high even for a journal carrying papers that include tables, graphs, etc. Is that a sound figure to use for calculations?
There are reasons to reject Ellen van Graaf's suggestion that they publish fewer papers or resort to electronic publishing. If the fields are flourishing, as their meeting on Hilton Head suggests, it would be shirking responsibility to cut back on publishing papers that meet the journal's high standards. A sober look at electronic publishing is needed to prevent making a hasty decision the board might regret. Experts in the information science field point out that electronic media are valuable for prompt and wide dissemination. They contend, however, that after time has elapsed, these media are unreliable for retrieval.
The advisory board is entitled to consider the impact of each option on the status of the journal as a highly regarded publication in its fields. Such status depends not only on the quality of the papers but on the management of the journal. A journal that maintains high standards and broad reach is very valuable to the fields it covers, to science and to society.
Commentary On
In a large medical institution, the Schrag Center for Breast Cancer Research provides clinicians and basic scientists from different research groups and departments with a forum for weekly scientific discussions. These meetings offer promise of cross-fertilization of ideas and formation of collaborative relationships linking basic research and clinical practice. The conflict that arises in this case demonstrates that for such enterprises to be productive it is necessary to establish policies or ground rules governing such matters as control and use of data. That is to say, that a forum of the kind the Schrag Center offers requires conventions similar to those of individual research groups.
Dr. Robert Kent, director of the Schrag Center and a highly regarded investigator and clinician in the field of breast cancer, facilitates scientific discussions at the regular weekly meetings, which he apparently has instituted. It is to his credit that he has arranged for this kind of regular communication among representatives of a diverse collection of research and clinical groups. However, Dr. Kent's control of Center funding, which many of the investigators receive, and his position as host and facilitator of the weekly discussions make him an especially powerful figure in this scene. Although all of the investigators who attend the meetings and all the groups they represent have their own sources of funding, the weekly meetings require policies or structure that furnish some checks on Kent's exercise of power. In the absence of ground rules, Kent is in a position to proceed according to his own lights.
Kent himself should have recognized the need for policies or ground rules for the weekly exchanges and for the use of ideas and data that might be generated. If he had gone beyond arranging meetings and had established appropriate ground rules, Kent would have shown himself to be a better leader. He should have drafted a set of ground rules for the discussions and their sequels and revised them as necessary to gain the agreement of the leaders of the groups represented.
Other group and department heads also should have recognized a responsibility to devise explicit policies and to keep a close eye on developments at the meetings. They share responsibility for the failure to set out the "rules of the game" and are also answerable for conflicts that arise due to the absence of policies. Since there seem to be no explicit rules, it is especially necessary for research group leaders to keep informed about the meetings and the use of ideas generated. An untenured assistant professor who sends her graduate student to a meeting with new data should be especially vigilant.
Dr. Barry should have kept in closer touch with John, her student; that is part of her responsibility to her student. She had an interest in feedback, as well. It seems that she let a few weeks pass without communicating with her student or other attendees about how his data were received. However, her student has a responsibility to keep in touch with her; graduate students should not be passive. Since Kent and others were clearly interested in his data, John was remiss in not reporting promptly to Dr. Barry, if only in the interest of speeding up his work.
Notwithstanding the failures of others to carry out their responsibilities, Kent's conduct is objectionable for violating standards of courtesy, morality and professional ethics. First, as a matter of courtesy, he should have discussed with Dr. Barry his interest in propagating her student's findings. It would be reasonable for her to expect such courtesy. Second, although he may have been unfamiliar with the specific environment and conventions of graduate training in "basic" scientific research, Kent should have had a sense that people from other areas of research have significant investments in their work. He should have recognized that his position of power did not license him to pursue his goals heedless of others' interests. His duty to consult with Dr. Barry before disseminating her student' s data is a matter of morality: respect for the interests of others. In proceeding without due regard for others' interests, Kent has done injury to a graduate student. Third, insofar as he represented the data as his own without credit to Dr. Barry and the student, he is also guilty of misrepresentation and misappropriation of data. He failed to meet professional standards in not having taken the lead to ensure that clear guidelines governed the weekly exchanges and follow-up.
Kent's conduct is objectionable in another respect. Dr. Barry learned from Jim, an old friend and colleague who heard Dr. Kent's presentation, that Kent reported three sets of experimental replicates, two more than her student had obtained. The discrepancy might be due to carelessness and error. Perhaps Kent or his group, extended the experimental work and obtained more data. It may be that Kent lied or fabricated data. If Kent did not actually derive two additional sets of experimental replicates, he violated moral and professional standards in propagating a report that was either erroneous or based on falsified or fabricated data. If he actually obtained additional data, he violated a professional duty to inform Dr. Barry and John. It is more likely that he made a careless error or reported untruthfully. In either case, he violated both standards of our common morality and professional standards. If Kent had acted with courtesy and respect for others' interests, he would have consulted with Dr. Barry about presenting the data. Taking that step should have ensured that he made no error with respect to the data. If he fabricated data or lied about the number of sets of replicates, he is guilty of scientific misconduct. Whether he made a careless error or knowingly misled his audience, his conduct was damaging to the scientific enterprise. The conventions for conducting and reporting research make trust pivotal. When investigators do not take care to report accurately and truthfully, they undermine trust and cause those who rely on their word to take actions they might otherwise not have reason to take. In this case, some drug companies may have been misled.
For at least two reasons, Dr. Barry has no choice but to deal with this situation promptly. One reason is that her student has been injured, and the other is that the drug companies are interested in the data Dr. Kent has reported. She is obligated to do what she can to reduce the harm to John. Any connection with a company based on carelessly reported, falsified or fabricated data could have serious consequences for all the parties. In dealing with this predicament, Dr. Barry should try to have a less emotional conversation with Dr. Kent about all the ramifications of this situation. If Kent did falsify or fabricate data, they may be able to work out a plan that will mitigate the damage and put this work on a track that satisfies all the interests involved. It will also be necessary to talk to other members of the Schrag Center discussion group. They, too, have stakes in resolving this conflict and in devising appropriate ground rules for continuing the weekly discussions.
The order in which Dr. Barry should undertake these conversations depends on the local circumstances. Is Dr. Kent willing to talk further? How accessible are other heads of research groups? Whether Dr. Barry needs to approach her department chairperson depends on the outcome of the conversations with others represented in the weekly discussions and of her discussion with Dr. Kent. Resolving the conflict among the parties who are involved in a way that satisfies the interests of Dr. Barry and John and generates appropriate ground rules would be the most desirable outcome. However, if Dr. Barry cannot manage to bring that about, she must disclose the situation to her chairperson. She has a duty to inform the chairperson if there are reasons to think that Dr. Kent presented falsified or fabricated data at the international meeting. In that event, the chairperson should have institutional policies and procedures to use for guidance with respect to the next steps to take.
Commentary On
A synthetic research lab at A-1 University includes Dr. Jacobs, department chair; Swen, a post-doc; and Beverly, a graduate student and advisee of Dr. Jacobs. Jacobs allows this student considerable freedom, making only casual suggestions. It appears that he is so remote that the group of which Swen and Beverly are members has come to rely heavily on the post-doc for providing research direction. Perhaps Jacobs has adopted this approach because his time is taken up with other duties. It may be that he remains in the background because he believes that is a desirable mode of management. Whatever his reasons, he stands back from engagement with his students and post-doc and seems to have provided only weekly meetings for regular communication and feedback.
There is merit in a policy of giving graduate students freedom and allowing post-docs to assume some responsibility, but only within a framework of clear understandings about how research is managed in the group. This framework should include policies covering the allocation of research problems, measuring and providing feedback on graduate students' progress, sharing data and assigning credit and authorship. In a situation featuring greater freedom than usual for students and post-docs, greater care is needed to set forth the limits. All advisers and research group leaders must bear in mind that the interests of post-docs and graduate students can diverge and lead to conflicts.
In Case 1, Beverly, now in her third year, has managed to get some interesting results. It seems to her that by following up and making derivatives of the complex she has discovered, she will be able to complete the requirements for the degree. She communicates her findings to Swen, who is impressed. He thinks enough of the discovery to consider using it as the basis for the work to be assigned to Jeremy, a new student. Given that Beverly and Swen have a close professional relationship, we can assume that Swen let Beverly know that he thought her discovery was promising and that she understood him. Confirmation from Swen should have made Beverly more confident of her own assessment.
At this point Beverly must communicate with Dr. Jacobs about her discovery. She would have behaved appropriately if she had gone to Dr. Jacobs even before talking to Swen. However, after getting confirmation from Swen's reaction, she should realize that she has reached a milestone. Dr. Jacobs should hear about it directly from her. Graduate students must take responsibility for moving through the program to completion; they should not remain passive. Of course, Beverly runs some risk that Dr. Jacobs will not be impressed. That is a risk she must take if she is to move forward. It is difficult to account for Beverly's failure to take the initiative in seeking out Dr. Jacobs at this point. (Jeremy, the new student, is not reticent about discussing his findings with Dr. Jacobs.)
Not long after Beverly's discovery, Jacobs gives Swen the task of helping Jeremy get started in the lab. Swen interprets his instructions to mean that he is to assign a research problem to Jeremy. Apparently without consulting Dr. Jacobs, Swen considers several options for Jeremy. On his own, he decides to give Jeremy the problem of synthesizing a new derivative of the complex Beverly had discovered.
It is usually both a prerogative and duty of the principal investigator (PI) or research group leader to allocate research problems to graduate students. There are good reasons for such a convention. At a minimum, central authority and control are needed for coordinating work on a grant that supports graduate students. The research group leader or PI is usually in the best position to make good matches between students and projects. Graduate students have much at stake in the allocation of projects. Someone with authority should be answerable and be seen to be answerable for assigning portions of the research to students.
If Dr. Jacobs makes it a practice to allow Swen or other post-docs to allocate research problems, he cannot relinquish all responsibility. There remains a need for coordination and oversight on his part to ensure that post-docs are properly trained in this task and that graduate students' interests are properly protected. Advisers have responsibility for attending to these needs as part of the duties of advising graduate students and post-docs. This kind of attention is necessary to manage funded projects well.
Dr. Jacobs seems to be at fault for neglecting to manage or clarify the process of assigning research problems to graduate students. Swen's conduct should be looked at in that light. If Dr. Jacobs has made no suggestions about what projects might be suitable for Jeremy, then it would seem to be up to Swen to come up with options. To address this task responsibly, Swen must consider Beverly's interests as well as Jeremy's and his own. He must bear in mind that Beverly has reached an important point, having made a discovery after three years of graduate study.
If Swen includes follow-up work on Beverly's discovery among the options to be considered for Jeremy, he must inform Beverly, as a matter of courtesy and respect. It also serves the interest of open communication in the research group (and the benefits that flow from it) to keep her informed. Swen should make no assignment before discussing with Dr. Jacobs the pros and cons of the options under consideration. If the option of assisting Beverly in making derivatives is among them, she should be included in the discussion with Dr. Jacobs or arrange to talk with him separately, whether or not she likes the idea of being given Jeremy's assistance. In the event that Jacobs judges that there is over-all benefit in Jeremy's assisting Beverly, he should explain the reasons for his judgment and the terms of credit to Beverly and Jeremy, assuming Jeremy's work is successful.
Case 2 arises because, without obtaining Beverly's agreement or discussing the matter with Jacobs, Swen gives Jeremy the project of making a derivative from the complex Beverly discovered. When Jeremy succeeds, after several months of work, Beverly is upset and angry at Swen because, as she sees it, she faces six more months of work. Swen's defense is that publishing ahead of other groups benefits the group and that if Dr. Jacobs can publish a major paper from this work, Swen will be able to get a job that frees him from his post-doc position. Putting his interests in completion ahead of Beverly's, he assures her that she will in time have enough results for her thesis. Jeremy is happy because Jacobs has encouraged him, saying that if Jeremy makes complex C, they should be able to publish in a good journal.
Beverly is the person who feels deprived and frustrated. However, she bears some responsibility for this outcome. That is because she did not inform Dr. Jacobs at the appropriate time about her discovery and so failed to talk with him about credit for her achievement and a plan for completing her work. That said, both Dr. Jacobs and Swen also are at fault. Dr. Jacobs neglected management responsibilities, apparently counting on the students and post-doc to figure out how to work well together in spite of competitive pressures dividing them. As chair of the department and adviser to graduate students, he has the obligation to make operating assumptions and ground rules clear. Appropriate policies help to avoid misunderstandings, conflicts, and harms to graduate students and post-docs.
A clear framework of ground rules might have helped Swen avoid the damaging failure to discuss Jeremy's assignment with Beverly and Jacobs. If procedures and decision making were more predictable and open, Swen might not have taken it upon himself to assign research to Jeremy without any consultation. Nevertheless, Swen is at fault for making a decision directly affecting Beverly's interests without consulting her.
In clashes of this kind, individuals can seem excessively protective of their work and results, and the professor's power and control over data and results can seem unfair or arbitrary. In view of the salience of property interests in so many contexts, it is perhaps not surprising that many are tempted to describe these clashes in terms of ownership or theft of ideas. Property law protects material embodiments of ideas, not ideas as such. In research groups when people argue or complain about ownership of ideas, the real issue frequently is the absence of clear and reasonable policies about allocation of research problems, tracking the progress of graduate students and post-docs, control of data and assignment of credit and authorship. Careful attention to those policies should forestall conflicts about ownership of ideas and help to promote trust and cooperation within research groups.
Commentary On
This case highlights the behavior of a leader (PI) of a laboratory research group in a sequence of events involving presentation and publication of his research group's work. The central concern is whether the PI adequately acknowledged the contributions of his trainees in the published version of his presentation, whether he treated them appropriately in failing to get consent to or inform them of his including their results in the published paper, and whether he competed with them unfairly in getting research from the lab published. Further issues are his misrepresentation of originality and authorship in the published paper, a question of whether he is encouraging students to violate the norm against publishing the same work in two different journals, and, more generally, of his setting an example of lack of scrupulousness.
In the absence of background information about this PI and his laboratory group, his behavior is a bit puzzling. His status as associate professor and his concern with his own publication interests suggest that his own career is of utmost concern to him. But then it is a puzzle why he would want to publish original research in a journal that his trainees regard as too obscure for them. Did he make himself sole author and omit acknowledgments to allow the students to publish under their own names elsewhere?
It is unfortunate that the PI seems not to have joined with his trainees in taking a problem-solving approach to the task of turning the original review paper into a primary research article containing original data. He needed their cooperation to produce a suitably revised article. A discussion in advance might have taken up such questions as: Why publish original work in this journal? Would a subsequent publication with trainees acknowledged or listed as authors include enough additional results to justify publication in a second journal? How will credit and authorship be handled for each publication? Such a discussion might have ensured that trainees would be spared the distress of learning only when they saw the reprint that they did not share authorship or receive acknowledgment.
It appears that students had a reasonable expectation that the PI would not use their research without acknowledgment or consent, for his own purposes, unless he had explicitly claimed exclusive ownership of all their data in advance. The PI appears to present a cynical attitude toward publishing. "Put a new spin on the article, and you have a creative paper." "If you think the audiences are sufficiently different, you can publish the same results in two different journals." "Leave it unclear who performed the experiment so that you can deny having excluded your trainees." These are not responses that could be made universal laws.
The PI took advantage of his position of power in unilaterally deciding without informing the trainees that he alone would get the advantage of publication of a paper that included work they had done. He offers an ethically flawed model of a scientist in his casual attitude toward "creativity" and the prohibition against publishing the same work in more than one journal. Whatever the significance of the trainees' experiments and findings, he leaves them feeling justifiably cheated of recognition and credit.
However, the trainees may have missed an opportunity to bring more into the open when they complained about having their findings published in an obscure journal. That was not the only ground for discomfort over how the PI was handling publication of the article. They should have been concerned about publishing the same material in two journals. With a post-doc among them, they should have been aware of the norm against doing that. They should also have been concerned about the PI's readiness to put a "creative edge" on a review piece and to that extent to misrepresent. It would be a delicate matter to raise this last issue with the PI, but the trainees should find a senior person with whom to discuss it.
Without knowing much about the personalities and relationships in the lab, it is difficult to say what the trainees should do beyond trying to take care about their own publication interests, being on guard against similar behavior by the PI in the future, or perhaps looking for another lab with a more scrupulous PI.
This story is told from the perspective of a graduate student who is disturbed because she suspects that her lab director acts with a conflict of interest in steering her away from the research she thinks she should pursue. The case effectively brings out how integral ethics is to scientific research. What it is appropriate to investigate is a central ethical concern in this situation. At the same time, the case allows focus on ethical questions about the management of a research lab; communication needs in a research group; relations between the lab director and a dissertation student; the responsibilities of each; the responsibilities of a post-doc, and others in the lab; the influence of the funding source on the research; the integrity of the researcher; and responsibilities toward the environment. The short narrative effectively presents the situation with its ambiguities.
The lab director, Dr. Thomas Katz, has won an international reputation and acquired the funding for a group of graduate students and postdocs and for a well-equipped lab. However, he comes across to students as distant and inaccessible. The graduate student at the center of this case, Nellie Shepherd, is engaged in dissertation research to determine environmental factors that have contributed to decline of fish species that have been exposed to wastewater from chemical plants. Her disagreement with her lab director centers on what possibly damaging substance in the wastewater should be the focus of her investigation. One substance, TTT, has attracted public attention, has already been investigated to some extent by this lab, and has not been implicated in damage to fish. In addition, the lab gets its funding from a consortium of chemical companies that generate wastewater containing TTT, and the funds are designated for studying the effects of TTT.
Nellie's reading of the literature has convinced her that DPP, another substance in the wastewater, may be the culprit. She designs some experiments to test her hypothesis. Katz refuses to approve Nellie's proposed experiments, saying there is no need to evaluate DPP when the funding has been given for studying TTT, and he curtly cuts off further discussion.
Katz's apparently cold and discourteous treatment of Nellie, at a sensitive juncture in determining the scope of her dissertation research, creates a highly unsettling situation for Nellie. His failure to show interest in her proposal could well undermine her self-confidence as a researcher. His unwillingness to discuss fully the rationale for rejecting research on DPP has evidently damaged Nellie's trust in Katz. She is ready to believe that his judgment is biased by dependence on the consortium for funding, and she is receptive to a post-doc's gossip supporting her belief. As she considers that DPP might be the cause of the looming disappearance of fish species and that she has on hand the materials needed to conduct the necessary experiments, her distress increases.
The control of funding needed to conduct research gives lab directors great power in carving out dissertation projects. Presumably, a process of negotiation usually occurs so that a student contributes to defining the scope of the research and comes to believe in and identify with the project. Ordinary respect for persons dictates that such a process should take place, and pedagogical considerations weigh in as well. The negative consequences of failure to show respect and discuss the rationale for the research are evident in this case. Nellie believes her own integrity may be compromised by following Katz's instructions and serious harm to the environment may come about as well. We do not know if she is correct, nor does she, but Katz has created a predicament for her.
If Katz, had discussed the funding and the scope of their research earlier (in a lab meeting, for example), he might have headed off this crisis for Nellie. By considering whether preliminary investigation of DPP might be justified under the terms of the funding or whether mention of the need to follow up on DPP might be justified in Nellie's report of the work she does complete, he might have performed better as a scientist and teacher and forestalled her suspicions. As it is, Nellie is entitled to her concern that Katz has a conflict of interest that biases his judgment in denying approval to investigate DPP. However, the situation is ambiguous; it may be that he has valid reasons but is too peremptory to convey them.
The post-doc's involvement raises additional questions about how the lab director operates, especially in communicating with the members of the research group. Is the post-doc to be trusted? Has the post-doc correctly interpreted what the lab director allegedly said? Does Katz really think the lab would serve the chemical companies well by refraining from pursuing investigation that would "open up another can of worms"? Nellie should not have to rely on the post-doc for an answer to this question. The lab should have regular channels of communication that leave less to gossip, rumor and surmise.
The lab's posture toward the consortium that supports the research should have been made explicit and explained to the members of the group when the funding came in and should be conveyed clearly to new members. These are reasonable expectations for a responsibly managed university research group. The university's commitment to the independence of university research is very valuable to society, and the university should have clear policies protecting the independence of research funded by private business organizations. Research conducted within business organizations also must meet reasonable standards of independence to be trustworthy, but business organizations do not make the same public commitment to the independence of their research that universities do.
In Scenario 1, Katz asks Nellie to include investigation of elevated water temperature on fish enzyme levels. Consideration of this factor is legitimate, but the request raises a question because it is not obvious that study of temperature is justified under the terms of the funding. Nellie's suspicions of conflict of interest are fueled, as well as, in all likelihood, a sense that her own idea of investigating DPP is not adequately appreciated. Whether Nellie's integrity is at stake is not clear, for she does not know why Katz has slighted her proposal.
If, as in Scenario 2, Nellie goes ahead with her experiments, finds that fish enzymes are indeed decreased, and does not report her findings, she is at fault on two counts. Without approval, she carries out research using funding presumably not designated for these experiments, and she holds back the results. She should not go this route.
In Scenario 2 B), Nellie reports her findings, and Katz is irritated. That reaction to her going ahead without approval is not out of line. It might not even be out of line to tell her courteously that if she wants to work on DPP, she must find other funding and another lab. However, Katz allows other students to work on other compounds. So Nellie is owed an explanation of his refusal to approve her study of DPP. Her suspicions may be correct, but they may not be.
It seems that Nellie must either follow Katz's instructions or find another lab in which to pursue the research that seems important to her. Perhaps the fault is not entirely Katz's. We do not know how others in the lab, who think Nellie's concerns are valid, get along with Katz, and Nellie herself may not know. It would be useful to her to find out about their situations, how they deal with Katz. Could Nellie have opened a discussion about her goals and research interests with Katz (or another senior person who knows this lab) at an earlier point? She might have learned at the outset whether this lab was a good fit for her.
Commentary On
This case is distinctive in raising questions about how to interpret international standards in a local setting. Observers from outside science often assume that there are transnational norms that bind scientists into a single international community. It may be reasonable to claim that there is an international system of scientific research, but standards or norms that are recognized across research communities -- even in this country -- are notoriously difficult to identify. The Vancouver Convention offers a nice example of internationally agreed-upon standards that cover more than 500 medical journals. For considering how general standards should guide conduct in particular situations, the Convention, therefore, is a good choice.
But, of course, in the complexity of circumstances, other issues arise as well. One is the responsibility of Charles's adviser, who is absent from the account. Another is the obligation of the host adviser, Dr. Williams, to orient his intern, Charles, to his lab and explain their local practices, which he himself contrasts to "Western" practices. A third issue is the responsibility of graduate students to seek information about the practices and norms that prevail in the research groups where they work.
Charles seems to have shown initiative in arranging the internship on his own. His adviser, however, must have recommended him to Williams or approved the arrangement, if only passively. It appears that she did not have a conversation with Charles to prepare him for another research setting, or at least alert him to the need to find out at the start the ground rules in Williams's lab. Charles seems caught up in the prospect of proximity to the "great scientist"; he would have benefited from preparation for the concrete realities of another lab. Apparently, his prior experience as a graduate student had not prepared Charles to be alert to local procedures and social relationships in the lab. Charles bears some responsibility for his naivete. Students should not move passively through graduate study, taking little notice of the social environment and failing to ask questions. When so much depends on personal relationships, students cannot afford to exclude them from their purview. In their later careers as scientists, they will need to help manage relationships in research groups.
Williams is at fault for leaving Charles to learn the ground rules in his lab by unsettling experience. The disagreement was avoidable. At a minimum, Williams should have explained local expectations with regard to recognition, authorship and publishing. When Williams says, "Naturally, I have circulated copies of the paper to each person for their comment and approval," he seems to be describing his usual practice, a convention in the lab. Why does he use the word "natural"? Perhaps he regards his practice as so clearly justified or so obvious that he does not realize it needs to be pointed out and explained. Such lack of awareness cannot be defended.
It is only at the juncture of their disagreement that Williams offers an explanation of his practices. Whether those practices meet the criteria of the Vancouver Convention is difficult for the reader to determine. Williams has an obligation to explain in detail how, in his view, the practices in his lab are in compliance. He is entitled to criticize the standards on the basis of local notions about the scientist as a group member, but when he submits articles to the journals governed by the Convention, he is ethically bound either to comply or to explain his deviation to the journal and seek approval. It is undermining to standards when a clear deviation on the part of a "noteworthy figure" is recognized and tolerated. That Williams believes his practice is superior to the standards does not justify deviation from standards that capture a reasonable understanding of authorship.
However, the notion of "substantial contribution" is an open concept that can generate honest disagreement. An explicit local policy about what ranks as a "substantial contribution," formulated with examples, should help to produce reasonable consistency and reduce disagreement in the research group. The frequency of disputes about ideas being stolen or given away attests to the interdependence Williams mentions. That interdependence makes it necessary to formulate and justify ground rules, wherever the lab is located.
Commentary On
This case raises issues about the responsibility of advisers to graduate students and post-docs, the responsibilities of those advised or mentored, research directors' management of power, ownership of ideas and grounds for recognition in the research group, and ease and frequency of communication. All of these issues have ethical dimensions. For example, communication is a practical necessity, but provision of regular channels of communication adequate to forestall damaging misunderstandings is an ethical requirement. Personal traits and personal relationships among members of the research group enter into the conduct of research. For that reason, the research environment should foster traits that facilitate cooperation and provide a milieu that prevents personal relationships from generating jealousy and suspicion.
The behavior of each of the three people in this scene raises questions. Susan's uncertainties about her research report due in two days lead her to consult a post-doc. Why does this consultation occur so close to the due date? Has Susan been active about getting feedback on her work? Has she been too easily discouraged from keeping Dr. Abrams tuned into her progress and problems? Has she made it a point to find out what's going on in the lab (e.g., with regard to proposal writing) and what kind of effort and success gain recognition? She should have exercised some initiative to find out what work is valued and rewarded in the lab.
That said, there are serious questions about Abrams' management of the lab, about whether she has worked to establish clear policies and adequate opportunities for communication. Graduate students should have a better sense about whether having the idea for the experiments is less consequential than carrying them out. In view of the collaboration between Jim and Susan to work out the model and their conflict about the idea for subsequent experiments, it does not seem that ideas are "a dime a dozen" in this lab. Abrams' remark that she could have had the idea a year ago is unnecessarily hurtful. Where recognition and credit are at stake, Abrams should have clear enough ground rules so that she can be justifiably confident that the post-docs and graduate students can resolve their disagreements. Otherwise, she is at fault for not stepping in. Perhaps she has a duty in any case to remind them of the relevant ground rules.
The post-doc seems to have accepted his go-between role and worked out his own accommodation between his interests and those of the graduate student. This area is predictably sensitive, given both the post-doc's and the graduate student's need for recognition. It is not clear that Jim has reasonably accommodated Susan's interests, and it is even less clear that Abrams was justified in leaving it up to him to do so. Again, the verdict is different if clear ground rules are in place and Lisa has been passive about learning them. Her intense schedule notwithstanding, Abrams should see to it that grad students and post-docs have regular opportunities to get feedback on work in progress that is not ready to be presented as focused, finished work.
Ownership of ideas is a tricky concept; patents and copyrights protect only material embodiments of ideas. There are good reasons for this policy, as we can see from the disagreement between Jim and Susan about who had the idea first. There is a natural proprietary attachment to ideas, but it is difficult to make out who was first with an idea, especially in view of the dependence of one person's ideas on the ideas of others. It might be useful to shift from emphasis on ownership to credit and the basis for credit.
