Mercury,
Nov/Dec 1995 Table of Contents
(c)
1995 Astronomical Society of the Pacific
A
newly employed Ph.D. wants to continue a project, but her faculty
advisor won't let her take her lab notebooks to her new job. A journal
editor has received a paper written by a scientist using another
researcher's data, obtained through the Freedom of Information Act.
A faculty advisor thinks his student may have concocted results.
What should these people do?
These
are some of the ethical dilemmas Science
magazine posed on the World Wide Web as part of its ongoing
coverage of scientific conduct, and they are not trivial. We would
be foolish to think that astronomy does not face the same questions.
So
far there has been little discussion of professional ethics in astronomy.
Yet the complaints are certainly there. Some surfaced during the
1990 American Astronomical Society membership survey, in write-in
comments about the old boy network, mistreatment of graduate students,
referee bias, and dubious press releases. Historically, another
worry for astronomy has been observer bias. Norriss Hetherington
has documented the cases of Adriaan van Maanen's spiral nebula rotation,
George Ellery Hale's solar spectra analysis, and Walter Adams's
gravitational redshift. All turned out to be spurious discoveries
that the observers -- top names in the field -- had wanted to be
there. The disturbing aspect of the van Maanen case, in particular,
is how the Mount Wilson establishment suppressed the misgivings
of Edwin Hubble and Knut Lundmark.
In
cases I know personally, people have not received credit or have
found their ideas appropriated. They reacted by trying to forget
about it. This is the first problem: reluctance to admit that ethical
breaches do occur. The AAS does not even have a written code of
conduct. A good starting point would be the recommendations, due
this month, of the Health and Human Services Commission on Research
Integrity.
Even
when people want to take action, they have no clear recourse. This
is the second problem: lack of procedures to enforce ethical standards.
The current, haphazard self-policing suffers from conflicts of interest.
Academic astronomers are reluctant to chastise their colleagues
and even less likely to make their troubles known to other researchers,
let alone the public. It took an anonymous leak to the press this
past summer for the misuse of funds by Cornell (now ex-Cornell)
astrophysicist Stuart Shapiro to emerge.
The
code of silence reflects the worry that if the public found out
about scandals, it would lose its desire to support science. But
the hush-hush mentality conceals critical issues from the profession
itself, makes things look worse when they do emerge, and contributes
to the mutual paranoia of scientists and the public. Only by not
hiding anything will scientists have nothing to hide.
Openness,
after all, is the guiding principle of modern science, the strongest
of the checks and balances that enable fallible humans to generate
reliable knowledge. These checks and balances are weakened by the
increasing stress that scientists are under. This is the third problem:
pressures that invite misconduct, large and small. To brake the
publishing rat-race, the AAS survey suggested encouraging employers
and funding agencies to consider only a limited number of papers
on job and grant applications.
Many
of the pressures are here to stay, and we must fortify young scientists
against them. Too often, however, graduate education carries the
wrong implicit message. As one respondent to Science
wrote: "If our training programs ask prospective trainees to forgo
normal lives for the '110% we expect of our graduate students,'
to delay family life until after tenure, or to compete without full
access to the rules of the game, our communities will have a difficult
time remaining civil and humane."
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