Researchers Behaving Badly: Known Frauds Are "the Tip of the Iceberg"
Last week, the whistleblowers in the Paolo Macchiarini affair at Sweden's Karolinska Institutet went on the record here to detail the retaliation they suffered for trying to expose a star surgeon's appalling research misconduct.
Scientific fraud of the type committed by Macchiarini is rare, but studies suggest that it's on the rise.
The whistleblowers had discovered that in six published papers, Macchiarini falsified data, lied about the condition of patients and circumvented ethical approvals. As a result, multiple patients suffered and died. But Karolinska turned a blind eye for years.
Scientific fraud of the type committed by Macchiarini is rare, but studies suggest that it's on the rise. Just this week, for example, Retraction Watch and STAT together broke the news that a Harvard Medical School cardiologist and stem cell researcher, Piero Anversa, falsified data in a whopping 31 papers, which now have to be retracted. Anversa had claimed that he could regenerate heart muscle by injecting bone marrow cells into damaged hearts, a result that no one has been able to duplicate.
A 2009 study published in the Public Library of Science (PLOS) found that about two percent of scientists admitted to committing fabrication, falsification or plagiarism in their work. That's a small number, but up to one third of scientists admit to committing "questionable research practices" that fall into a gray area between rigorous accuracy and outright fraud.
These dubious practices may include misrepresentations, research bias, and inaccurate interpretations of data. One common questionable research practice entails formulating a hypothesis after the research is done in order to claim a successful premise. Another highly questionable practice that can shape research is ghost-authoring by representatives of the pharmaceutical industry and other for-profit fields. Still another is gifting co-authorship to unqualified but powerful individuals who can advance one's career. Such practices can unfairly bolster a scientist's reputation and increase the likelihood of getting the work published.
The above percentages represent what scientists admit to doing themselves; when they evaluate the practices of their colleagues, the numbers jump dramatically. In a 2012 study published in the Journal of Research in Medical Sciences, researchers estimated that 14 percent of other scientists commit serious misconduct, while up to 72 percent engage in questionable practices. While these are only estimates, the problem is clearly not one of just a few bad apples.
In the PLOS study, Daniele Fanelli says that increasing evidence suggests the known frauds are "just the 'tip of the iceberg,' and that many cases are never discovered" because fraud is extremely hard to detect.
Essentially everyone wants to be associated with big breakthroughs, and they may overlook scientifically shaky foundations when a major advance is claimed.
In addition, it's likely that most cases of scientific misconduct go unreported because of the high price of whistleblowing. Those in the Macchiarini case showed extraordinary persistence in their multi-year campaign to stop his deadly trachea implants, while suffering serious damage to their careers. Such heroic efforts to unmask fraud are probably rare.
To make matters worse, there are numerous players in the scientific world who may be complicit in either committing misconduct or covering it up. These include not only primary researchers but co-authors, institutional executives, journal editors, and industry leaders. Essentially everyone wants to be associated with big breakthroughs, and they may overlook scientifically shaky foundations when a major advance is claimed.
Another part of the problem is that it's rare for students in science and medicine to receive an education in ethics. And studies have shown that older, more experienced and possibly jaded researchers are more likely to fudge results than their younger, more idealistic colleagues.
So, given the steep price that individuals and institutions pay for scientific misconduct, what compels them to go down that road in the first place? According to the JRMS study, individuals face intense pressures to publish and to attract grant money in order to secure teaching positions at universities. Once they have acquired positions, the pressure is on to keep the grants and publishing credits coming in order to obtain tenure, be appointed to positions on boards, and recruit flocks of graduate students to assist in research. And not to be underestimated is the human ego.
Paolo Macchiarini is an especially vivid example of a scientist seeking not only fortune, but fame. He liberally (and falsely) claimed powerful politicians and celebrities, even the Pope, as patients or admirers. He may be an extreme example, but we live in an age of celebrity scientists who bring huge amounts of grant money and high prestige to the institutions that employ them.
The media plays a significant role in both glorifying stars and unmasking frauds. In the Macchiarini scandal, the media first lifted him up, as in NBC's laudatory documentary, "A Leap of Faith," which painted him as a kind of miracle-worker, and then brought him down, as in the January 2016 documentary, "The Experiments," which chronicled the agonizing death of one of his patients.
Institutions can also play a crucial role in scientific fraud by putting more emphasis on the number and frequency of papers published than on their quality. The whole course of a scientist's career is profoundly affected by something called the h-index. This is a number based on both the frequency of papers published and how many times the papers are cited by other researchers. Raising one's ranking on the h-index becomes an overriding goal, sometimes eclipsing the kind of patient, time-consuming research that leads to true breakthroughs based on reliable results.
Universities also create a high-pressured environment that encourages scientists to cut corners. They, too, place a heavy emphasis on attracting large monetary grants and accruing fame and prestige. This can lead them, just as it led Karolinska, to protect a star scientist's sloppy or questionable research. According to Dr. Andrew Rosenberg, who is director of the Center for Science and Democracy at the U.S.-based Union of Concerned Scientists, "Karolinska defended its investment in an individual as opposed to the long-term health of the institution. People were dying, and they should have outsourced the investigation from the very beginning."
Having institutions investigate their own practices is a conflict of interest from the get-go, says Rosenberg.
Scientists, universities, and research institutions are also not immune to fads. "Hot" subjects attract grant money and confer prestige, incentivizing scientists to shift their research priorities in a direction that garners more grants. This can mean neglecting the scientist's true area of expertise and interests in favor of a subject that's more likely to attract grant money. In Macchiarini's case, he was allegedly at the forefront of the currently sexy field of regenerative medicine -- a field in which Karolinska was making a huge investment.
The relative scarcity of resources intensifies the already significant pressure on scientists. They may want to publish results rapidly, since they face many competitors for limited grant money, academic positions, students, and influence. The scarcity means that a great many researchers will fail while only a few succeed. Once again, the temptation may be to rush research and to show it in the most positive light possible, even if it means fudging or exaggerating results.
Though the pressures facing scientists are very real, the problem of misconduct is not inevitable.
Intense competition can have a perverse effect on researchers, according to a 2007 study in the journal Science of Engineering and Ethics. Not only does it place undue pressure on scientists to succeed, it frequently leads to the withholding of information from colleagues, which undermines a system in which new discoveries build on the previous work of others. Researchers may feel compelled to withhold their results because of the pressure to be the first to publish. The study's authors propose that more investment in basic research from governments could alleviate some of these competitive pressures.
Scientific journals, although they play a part in publishing flawed science, can't be expected to investigate cases of suspected fraud, says the German science blogger Leonid Schneider. Schneider's writings helped to expose the Macchiarini affair.
"They just basically wait for someone to retract problematic papers," he says.
He also notes that, while American scientists can go to the Office of Research Integrity to report misconduct, whistleblowers in Europe have no external authority to whom they can appeal to investigate cases of fraud.
"They have to go to their employer, who has a vested interest in covering up cases of misconduct," he says.
Science is increasingly international. Major studies can include collaborators from several different countries, and he suggests there should be an international body accessible to all researchers that will investigate suspected fraud.
Ultimately, says Rosenberg, the scientific system must incorporate trust. "You trust co-authors when you write a paper, and peer reviewers at journals trust that scientists at research institutions like Karolinska are acting with integrity."
Without trust, the whole system falls apart. It's the trust of the public, an elusive asset once it has been betrayed, that science depends upon for its very existence. Scientific research is overwhelmingly financed by tax dollars, and the need for the goodwill of the public is more than an abstraction.
The Macchiarini affair raises a profound question of trust and responsibility: Should multiple co-authors be held responsible for a lead author's misconduct?
Karolinska apparently believes so. When the institution at last owned up to the scandal, it vindictively found Karl Henrik-Grinnemo, one of the whistleblowers, guilty of scientific misconduct as well. It also designated two other whistleblowers as "blameworthy" for their roles as co-authors of the papers on which Macchiarini was the lead author.
As a result, the whistleblowers' reputations and employment prospects have become collateral damage. Accusations of research misconduct can be a career killer. Research grants dry up, employment opportunities evaporate, publishing becomes next to impossible, and collaborators vanish into thin air.
Grinnemo contends that co-authors should only be responsible for their discrete contributions, not for the data supplied by others.
"Different aspects of a paper are highly specialized," he says, "and that's why you have multiple authors. You cannot go through every single bit of data because you don't understand all the parts of the article."
This is especially true in multidisciplinary, translational research, where there are sometimes 20 or more authors. "You have to trust co-authors, and if you find something wrong you have to notify all co-authors. But you couldn't go through everything or it would take years to publish an article," says Grinnemo.
Though the pressures facing scientists are very real, the problem of misconduct is not inevitable. Along with increased support from governments and industry, a change in academic culture that emphasizes quality over quantity of published studies could help encourage meritorious research.
But beyond that, trust will always play a role when numerous specialists unite to achieve a common goal: the accumulation of knowledge that will promote human health, wealth, and well-being.
[Correction: An earlier version of this story mistakenly credited The New York Times with breaking the news of the Anversa retractions, rather than Retraction Watch and STAT, which jointly published the exclusive on October 14th. The piece in the Times ran on October 15th. We regret the error.]
Friday Five: These boots were made for walking, even for people who can't
The Friday Five covers important stories in health and science research that you may have missed - usually over the previous week but, today, we're doing a lookback on breakthrough research over the month of October. There are plenty of controversies and troubling ethical issues in science – and we get into many of them in our online magazine – but this news roundup focuses on scientific creativity and progress to give you a therapeutic dose of inspiration headed into the weekend.
Listen on Apple | Listen on Spotify | Listen on Stitcher | Listen on Amazon | Listen on Google
This Friday Five episode covers the following studies published and announced over the past month:
- New boots could have you moving like Iron Man
- The problem with bedtime munching
- The perfect recipe for tiny brains
- The best sports for kids to avoid lifelong health risks
- Can virtual reality reduce pain?
Should egg and sperm donors reveal their identities? The debate pivots on genetics and medical history.
Until age 35, Cassandra Adams assumed her mother and father were her biological parents. Then she took saliva tests through two genealogy databases—23andMe and AncestryDNA—and discovered a discrepancy in her heritage. In bringing up the matter with her parents, she learned that fertility issues had led the couple to use a sperm donor.
“Most people my age were not told,” said Adams, now 40 and a stay-at-home mom in Jersey City, New Jersey, who is involved with donor-conception advocacy. “Even now, there’s still a lot of secrecy in the industry. There are still many parents who aren’t truthful or planning not to be truthful with their children.”
While some of those offspring may never know a significant part of their medical history, Adams is grateful that she does. Surprisingly, the DNA test revealed Jewish ancestry.
“There are a lot more genetic conditions that run in Jewish families, so it was really important that I get my medical history, because it’s very different from my dad who raised me,” said Adams, who has met her biological father and two of three known half-siblings. As a result of this experience, she converted to Judaism. “It has been a big journey,” she said.
In an era of advancing assisted reproduction technologies, genetics and medical history have become front and center of the debate as to whether or not egg and sperm donations should be anonymous – and whether secrecy is even possible in many cases.
Obstacles to staying anonymous
People looking to become parents can choose what’s called an “identity-release donor,” meaning their child can receive information about the donor when he or she turns 18. There’s no way to ensure that the donor will consent to a relationship at that time. Instead, if a relationship between the donor and child is a priority, parents may decide to use a known donor.
The majority of donors want to remain anonymous, said reproductive endocrinologist Robert Kiltz, founder and director of CNY Fertility in Syracuse, New York. “In general, egg and sperm donation is mostly anonymous, meaning the recipient doesn’t know the donor and the donor doesn’t know the recipient.”
Even if the donor isn’t disclosed, though, the mystery may become unraveled when a donor-conceived person undergoes direct-to-consumer genetic testing through ancestry databases, which are growing in number and popularity. These services offer DNA testing and links to relatives with identifiable information.
In the future, another obstacle to anonymity could be laws that prohibit anonymous sperm and egg donations, if they catch on. In June, Colorado became the first state in the nation to ban anonymous sperm and egg donations. The law, which takes effect in 2025, will give donor-conceived adults the legal authority to obtain their donor’s identity and medical history. It also requires banks that provide sperm and egg collection to keep current medical records and contact information for all donors. Meanwhile, it prohibits donations from those who won’t consent to identity disclosures.
“The tradition of anonymous sperm or egg donation has created a vast array of problems, most significantly that the people thus created want to know who their mommy and daddy are,” said Kenneth W. Goodman, professor and director of the Institute for Bioethics and Health Policy at the University of Miami Miller School of Medicine.
“There are counter arguments on both sides. But the current situation has led to great uncertainty and, in many cases, grief,” Goodman said.
Donors should bear some moral responsibility for their role in reproduction by allowing their identity to be disclosed to donor-conceived individuals when they turn 18, Goodman added, noting that “there are counter arguments on both sides. But the current situation has led to great uncertainty and, in many cases, grief.”
Adams, the Jersey City woman who learned she was Jewish, has channeled these feelings into several works of art and performances on stage at venues such as the Jersey City Theater Center. During these performances, she describes the trauma of “not knowing where we come from [or] who we look like.”
In the last five years, Kathleen “Casey” DiPaola, a lawyer in Albany, New York, who focuses her practice on adoption, assisted reproduction and surrogacy, has observed a big shift toward would-be parents looking to use known sperm donors. On the other hand, with egg donation, “I’m not seeing a whole lot of change,” she said. Compared to sperm donation, more medical screening is involved with egg donation, so donors are primarily found through fertility clinics and egg donor agencies that prefer anonymity. This leads to fewer options for prospective parents seeking an egg donor with disclosed identity, DiPaola said.
Some donors want to keep in touch
Rachel Lemmons, 32, who lives in Denver, grew interested in becoming an egg donor when, as a graduate student in environmental sciences, she saw an online advertisement. “It seemed like a good way to help pay off my student loan debt,” said Lemmons, who is married and has a daughter who will turn 2-years-old in December. She didn’t end up donating until many years later, after she’d paid off the debt. “The primary motivation at that point wasn’t financial,” she said. “Instead, it felt like a really wonderful way to help someone else have a family in a few weeks’ time.”
Lemmons originally donated anonymously because she didn’t know open donations existed. She was content with that until she became aware of donor-conceived individuals’ struggles. “It concerned me that I could potentially be contributing to this,” she said, adding that the egg donor and surrogacy agency and fertility clinic wouldn’t allow her to disclose her identity retroactively.
Since then, she has donated as an open donor, and kept in touch with the recipients through email and video calls. Knowing that they were finally able to have children is “incredibly rewarding,” Lemmons said.
When to tell the kids
Stanton Honig, professor of urology and division chief of sexual and reproductive medicine at Yale School of Medicine, said for years his team has recommended that couples using donor sperm inform children about the role of the donor and their identity. “Honesty is always the best policy, and it is likely that when they become of age, they might or will be able to find out about their biological sperm donor,” he said. “Hiding it creates more of a complicated situation for children in the long run.”
Amy Jones, a 45-year-old resident of Syracuse, N.Y., has three children, including twins, who know they were conceived with anonymous donor eggs from the same individual, so they share the same genetics. Jones, who is a registered nurse and asked for her real name not to be published, told them around age seven.
“The thought of using a known donor brought more concerns—what if she wanted my babies after they were born, or how would I feel if she treated them as her own every time I saw her?” said Jones.
“I did a lot of reading, and all psychologists said that it is best to start the conversation early,” she recalled. “They understood very little of what I was telling them, but through the years, I have brought it up in discussion and encouraged them to ask questions. To this day, they don't seem to be all that interested, but I expect that later on in life they may have more questions.”
Jones and her husband opted to use a donor because premature ovarian failure at age 27 had rendered her infertile. “The decision to use an egg donor was hard enough,” she said. “The thought of using a known donor brought more concerns—what if she wanted my babies after they were born, or how would I feel if she treated them as her own every time I saw her?”
Susan C. Klock, a clinical psychologist in the section of fertility and reproductive medicine at Northwestern University Feinberg School of Medicine, said, “Anonymity is virtually impossible in the age of direct-to-consumer genetic testing.” In addition, “selecting an identity-release donor is typically not the first thing parents are looking at when they select a donor. First and foremost, they are looking for a donor with a healthy medical background. Then they may consider donor characteristics that resemble the parents.”
The donor’s medical history can be critical
Donor agencies rely on the self-reported medical history of egg and sperm donors, which can lead to gaps in learning important information. Knowing a donor’s medical history may have led some families to make different or more well-informed choices.
After Steven Gunner, a donor-conceived adult, suffered from schizophrenia and died of a drug overdose at age 27 in 2020, his parents, who live in New York, learned of a potential genetic link to his mental illness. A website, Donor Sibling Registry, revealed that the sperm donor the couple had used, a college student at the time of donation, had been hospitalized during childhood for schizophrenia and died of a drug overdose at age 46. Gunner’s story inspired Steven’s Law, a bill that was introduced in Congress in July. If passed, it would mandate sperm banks to collect information on donors’ medical conditions, and donors would have to disclose medical information the banks weren’t able to find.
With limited exceptions, the U.S. Food and Drug Administration requires donors to be screened and tested for relevant communicable disease agents and diseases such as HIV, hepatitis viruses B and C, the Zika virus and several STDs. With current technology, it is also impossible to screen for thousands of rare genetic diseases. “If a couple is using IVF (in vitro fertilization) to conceive with the donor gamete, some may opt for pre-implantation genetic testing to assess for chromosomal abnormalities,” Klock said.
Even these precautions wouldn't cover every disease, and some would-be parents don't get the genetic screening. In a situation where one donor has a large number of offspring, it is concerning that he or she can spread a rare disease to multiple people, said Nick Isel, 37, of Yorkville, Illinois, who was conceived with donor sperm due to his parents’ fertility issues. They told him the truth when he was a teenager, and he found his biological father with a journalist’s help.
Since 2016, Isel, who owns a roofing company, has been petitioning the FDA to extend the retention of medical records, requiring the fertility establishment to maintain information on sperm and egg donors for 50 years instead of the current 10-year mandate.
“The lack of family health information,” he said, “is an ongoing, slow-motion public health crisis since donor conception began being regulated by the FDA as a practice.”