Science for Sale: The Perils, Rewards, and Delusions of Campus Capitalism

by Daniel S. Greenberg
University of Chicago Press, Chicago, IL, 2007
288 pp., Paper, $ 25.00
ISBN: 10: 0-226-30625-9.

Reviewed by Wilfred Niels Arnold
University of Kansas Medical Center

warnold@kumc.edu

“Sale,” “reward” and “capitalism” were decidedly antithetical to the mores of academic science 50 years ago.  Rather, in those days it was engraved in stone that aspirants to professorial careers “must be committed to advancing the field” but should not expect “personal financial reward.”

To their credit, most American universities continue to expect the undergraduate students themselves or the state to meet the costs of formal instruction.  But over the last several decades their departments, especially those that play in the “hard” sciences, have increasingly sought federal support for basic research activities including the stipends of graduate students and postdoctorals.  There was a relatively short period during which this relationship seemed to work smoothly because of a marvellous font of running money.  Although unimaginable today, comments from senior professors during the years of our jingoistic jealousy of Sputnik indicate that program directors of the National Institutes of Health and the National Science Foundation were actually calling university professors to urge submission of research grant applications.

Spurred on by deans of research, the academic institutions as well as individual investigators became addicted to federal money.  This pleased and relieved state politicians, but the inevitable competition among schools, cities, and states became brisk.  [National ranking lists on grant-winning are now commonplace.]  More importantly, a silly corollary surfaced, i.e. that any research idea worth its salt must surely be able to attract grant support.  An even bigger intellectual insult coupled the inability to get funding with “being in the wrong field, chasing the wrong rainbow, or simply not thinking along the right lines.”  Promotion, tenure, and survival became intimately connected to grantsmanship.  On the other hand, in all but the best universities promotions are now assured by threats of leaving home and taking research grants to other schools.  A funny variation finds disgruntled individuals moving within the same university because the grant that travels with them is welcomed by a local department that happens to be short on grants at the moment.  And the administrators are apparently comfortable with this zero-sum game!

Much of the above is revealed en passant in Science For Sale, but Greenberg’s present focus for analysis and criticism is the Bayh-Dole Act, also known as the University and small business patent procedures act.  He exposes its effects on the climate and goals of science in this country.  This legislation was sponsored by senators Birch Bayh of Indiana and Bob Dole of Kansas.  It was enacted by the U.S. Congress on December 12, 1980.  The act permits a university, small business, or non-profit institution to pursue ownership of an invention before or instead of the government, even though the government has sponsored the salient research.  In a gesture to the taxpayers, Bayh-Dole provided the government with a royalty-free license to the patents, which has turned out to be a very rarely exercised option according to Greenberg.  The take-home message is that government agencies want to nurture the translation of research results into potentially saleable products.  Also, politicians want tangible results.

Chapter 3, provocatively entitled “Commercialize! It’s the Law” and the  Epigraph is taken directly from the Bayh-Dole Act: “It is the policy and objective of the Congress to use the patent system to promote the utilization of inventions arising from federally supported research development … [and] to promote collaboration between commercial concerns and nonprofit organizations, including universities.”  Greenberg notes that “the bill directed universities to conduct their patent dealings with small business firms, a dual sop to populist sentiments and the presence of small business in every congressional district.  Three years later, the small business preference was removed from the act in recognition of the fact that conventional small businesses lack the talent and resources to transform scientific knowledge into a saleable product.  However, involvement for small business later developed on its own with the proliferation of biotech spin-offs from academic research.”

Who was surprised that Bayh-Dole led to a new breed of scientist-entrepreneur and spin-off companies!  It also influenced the selection of research subjects to be investigated.  Patent applications by professors started being counted as publications.

Greenberg takes the reader down the tortuous experiences of eager universities and principal investigators who seek corporate funding in order to facilitate the translation of basic research into products and then become conscious of attached strings.  He cannot be accused of dodging the issues.  This book has the structure and argument we associate with the best in sociology of science.  Recently I heard myself remark that it’s a hard book to read––not because of the writing but because the message will be more than challenging to concerned readers.

Science For Sale is divided into three parts.  The first, “The Setting and the System” includes “The price of profits” (chapter 5) and “Conflicts of interest” (chapter 6).  The second part, “As seen from the inside––six conversations” presents a balanced evaluation based on interviews, with chapters such as “Success and Remorse”(chapter 8), “A Congenial Partnership,” (chapter 9) and “The [Scientific] Journals Revolt.” (chapter 13).  Part three, “Fixing the System” makes a brave attempt to offer help.  It ends with an admirable “Parable of our Time” in which Greenberg brings back Dr. Grant Swinger [see “The Grant Swinger Papers,” 32 pages, 1981, University of California Press] in an entertaining combination of humorous extremes and painful realities.  A small collection of notes is assembled for each chapter.  There is a useful index that works.

Daniel S. Greenberg (b. 1931) is a veteran science reporter with a distinguished career as a commentator upon science and health politics.  His position has been lonely because few have the courage to analyze, let alone criticize, the sacred cows that fund scientific enquiry in the U.S.  The Library of Congress lists six items under his name.  They include “The Politics of Pure Science,” (1999) and “Science Money and Politics,” (2001).