Dr. Z is perhaps a bit naive.
Certainly, most researchers would know that the student’s work would
not merit first authorship. They would know that “gift” authorship is not an acceptable research
practice. However, an earlier experience in our work makes us wonder. Several years ago, in conjunction
with the grant from the Fund for the Improvement of Post Secondary Education (FIPSE), a team of
philosophers and scientists at Dartmouth College ran a University Seminar series for faculty on the topic
“Ethical Issues in Scientific Research.” At one seminar, a senior researcher (let’s call him Professor R)
argued a similar position to that of Dr. Z. In this case Professor R knew that “gift” authorship,
authorship without a significant research contribution, was an unacceptable research practice. However,
he had a reason to give authorship to his student. The student had worked for several years on a project
suggested by him and the project had yielded no publishable data. Believing that he had a duty to the
student to ensure a publication, Professor R had given the student some data that he himself had
collected and told the student to write it up. The student had worked hard, he said, albeit on another
project, and the student would do the writing. Thus, he reasoned, the authorship was not a “gift.”
These two stories point up a major reason for encouraging courses in research ethics: Good intentions
do not necessarily result in ethical decisions. Both of the faculty members in the above scenarios “meant
well.” In both cases, the faculty members truly believed that what they were doing was morally
acceptable. In the first case, Dr. Z’s (indefensible) error was that he was unaware of the conventions of
the field. In particular, he seemed blissfully oblivious to the meaning of first authorship. In the second
case, Professor R was doing what he thought best for the student without taking into consideration that
morality is a public system and that his actions with regard to a single student have public consequences
for the practice of science as a profession.
Well-meaning scientists, such as those just mentioned, can, with the best of intentions, make unethical
decisions. In some cases, such decisions may lead individuals to become embroiled in cases of
misconduct. A course in research ethics can help such scientists to appreciate that it is their
responsibility to know professional conventions as well as to understand the public nature of morality.
There are scientists for whom a course in research ethics will be less useful. Efraim Racker,
1
in a 1989
article, described a student in his lab who was a “professional” fabricator of data. This student composed
lab books without performing experiments, added radioactive material to gels to produce bands where he
wished those bands to be, and lied to his colleagues about his actions. Another researcher, Elias Alsabti,
described by D. J. Miller,
2
was a meticulous plagiarizer. This physician-researcher fabricated his
curriculum vitae, copied a colleague’s grant for his own use, published other people’s data under his own
name, and co-authored his pilfered data with fictitious collaborators. Individuals such as these are
unlikely to learn research ethics through instruction because they are not interested in becoming ethical
practitioners.
The ethics of scientific research is somewhat unique within professional ethics in the sense that good
science requires the ethical practice of science (this is discussed in more detail in Section 4).
Nevertheless, a course in research ethics cannot and should not have as its central focus the question,
“Why should I be moral?” This question, while important, is not specific to the field of scientific
research. A course in research ethics, as envisioned by the Dartmouth team, must be a course that
teaches the tools for making ethical decisions relative to matters of research. It will be designed for those
scientists who are already committed to being ethical researchers. Such a course should provide students
the answers to the question, “How can I make moral decisions?”
Although it is the fabricators and the plagiarizers whom we most often think of when we think of
research misconduct, these are not the only people accused of misconduct. They are also not the only
people who are guilty of misconduct. Many other scientists have had lives and careers affected by
misconduct cases.
It is undoubtedly unfair to generalize from a few cases of misconduct to an entire profession.
Nevertheless, reported cases of misconduct are not uncommon, and this could reflect a failure to train
students to the highest ethical standards. The 1993 Office of Research Integrity (ORI) publication
reported the 1991–1992 caseload to include 29 institutional inquiries, 21 institutional investigations,