In the Name of Science: A History of Secret Programs, Medical Research, and Human Experimentation
by Andrew Goliszek
A review by Farhad Manjoo
In 1932, the United States Public Health Service alerted hundreds of poor black
men in Macon County, Ala., to a new treatment for "bad blood," a term
locals used to refer to a wide range of sexually transmitted diseases. The "special
treatment," the government said, would be offered by doctors at the Tuskegee
Institute, the Alabama college founded by Booker T. Washington; the men would
be treated for free as long as they allowed doctors to observe their condition.
Almost 400 men responded, and when they arrived at Tuskegee, doctors from around
the country descended on the school to monitor them. But the men who checked
in to Tuskegee for salvation from bad blood were not offered any new medicine
there. Instead, doctors administered aspirin and an "iron tonic" placebo
and, over four decades of annual visits, watched the men descend to grisly deaths
from a well-known disease -- syphilis -- that the government knew could easily
and effectively be treated with penicillin.
Since 1972, when details of the program were first uncovered in the press,
the "Tuskegee Study of Untreated Syphilis in the Negro Male," as the
government called it, has come to stand as a monument for all that can go wrong
in science -- a horror committed not only by a racist government but also by
doctors sworn to the highest ethical conduct. The Tuskegee study might seem
to most of us like an aberration, a product of a place and time particularly
lacking in ethics. The scientists who organized the program may have been mad,
but surely all scientists aren't so, you might think.
While that's a sensible way to look at the world, Andrew Goliszek, a biologist
at North Carolina Agricultural and Technical State University, cautions that
it's not always wise to give science the benefit of the doubt. In his new book,
In the Name of Science: A History of Secret Programs, Medical Research, and
Human Experimentation, Goliszek recounts dozens of unethical and sometimes
ghastly experiments conducted on humans, many much worse than what occurred
at Tuskegee. Some of these -- like the crimes of Dr. Josef Mengele, the "Angel
of Death" who presided over prisoners at the Auschwitz concentration camp
-- are infamous; others, such as the CIA's experiments with LSD, the Defense
Department's Cold War-era radiological experiments on unsuspecting soldiers
or the Japanese government's germ-warfare program of World War II, have been
nearly forgotten by history.
Goliszek also documents a history of misconduct and coverups by scientists,
a history that gives the lie, he says, to the notion that scientists live monastic
lives of experimentation and verification, lives ruled by an objective desire
to discover the truth, to first do no harm. This is Goliszek's thesis; he wants
to knock science off its pedestal. Scientists, he tells us, are not above corruption,
and in a society like ours that looks to science as the ultimate arbiter of
truth, it's vital that we realize this. "Those unfamiliar with science
probably assume that the profession is filled with intellectuals doing honest
and worthwhile research and who would never compromise their principles,"
he writes. "In many cases, that's absolutely true; but in some cases, the
scientists doing research are bordering on insane." Goliszek believes that
these scientists have made the past century "one of the darkest in scientific
Unfortunately, Goliszek, whose previous works include a medical school admissions
guide and a stress-management self-help book, is an aggravatingly overheated
writer, and as an investigator he can be lazy, too often relying on dubious
sources and presenting only one side of the story. He is also a poor analyst
of the facts he presents: he fails to explore what it means for science, and
for the rest of us, that scientists so often fall from grace.
If it's true that researchers are easily influenced by their governments or
their corporate benefactors, should we trust them? And if we don't trust scientists,
what then? When your doctor prescribes a cholesterol-lowering statin drug, or
when your friend the climate researcher warns that your SUV will be the ruin
of the planet, do you heed their advice? Or do you ignore them, figuring they're
probably bought and paid for by special interests?
Goliszek addresses none of these questions. Instead, he skips from scientific
disgrace to scientific disgrace with the glee of a freak-show emcee, punctuating
his discoveries with satirical asides and a barrage of exclamation marks. The
dedicated reader will find refuge in Goliszek's bibliography, which is the most
thorough part of his book; there you'll find, for example, such gems as Bad
Blood, New York Times reporter James Jones' exhaustive history of
the Tuskegee experiments, which provides a far more nuanced picture of the program
than the half-dozen pages Goliszek devotes to the affair.
Goliszek's theatrics notwithstanding, In the Name of Science does provide
a useful map to the low points in the history of science, a map whose landmarks
ought to be better remembered by scientists and by a culture that dotes on science.
On Nov. 18, 1953, for instance, CIA doctors who believed that LSD would be
a handy drug for humiliating world leaders decided to test the substance on
unsuspecting guests at a social gathering of government scientists taking place
in Deep Creek Lane, Md. The doctors poured 70 micrograms of LSD into a bottle
of brandy set out at the party. "Twenty minutes later," Goliszek writes,
the group became "increasingly boisterous," and one guest, Frank Olson,
a U.S. Army civilian employee, "felt especially edgy." Olson, in other
words, had a bad trip, and over the next few days, his condition worsened. He
shuttled between doctors in New York and Washington, depressed and deathly afraid,
he told government doctors, to face his family. At 2:30 a.m. one morning, weeks
after the party, Olson leaped out of a 10th-floor window at the Statler Hotel
in Manhattan, "his secret dying with him until it was eventually uncovered
decades later," Goliszek writes.
In the Name of Science brims with such accounts of death by secret illness,
and lives lived in the grip of mysterious ailments caused by secret experimentation.
Soldiers are particularly vulnerable to the horrors of science; they are assaulted
not only by enemy forces, but also by their own governments. Goliszek tells
of the Army's postwar radiological experiments on its soldiers, including a
chilling account of men who were instructed to march into the plume of a nuclear
detonation in the Utah desert.
"Like a wave of green ants, the soldiers emerged slowly onto the hot desert
and moved in unison toward the cloud," he writes. "Those blinded or
dazed by the fireball were left behind. Others were selected for psychological
examination to determine the effects of stress and the emotional impact of a
nuclear detonation. The remaining troops conducted field exercises, maneuvering
across the desert and through what looked like a brown and gray dust storm.
Above them, a B-17 flew directly into the cloud, tracking its movement and analyzing
how much was diffusing and how much was actually falling to the ground."
What did the military expect to learn from these experiments, and what did
it learn? Goliszek doesn't say, which highlights another frustration the reader
encounters in his book. It would be revealing to see how the scientists who
conducted experiments on humans justified the research to themselves. Were they
indeed, as Goliszek's title implies, interested only in furthering scientific
knowledge, and willing to do whatever was required to sate their curiosity?
And did it turn out that, despite the grief their research produced, science
was well-served by their experiments? Did they feel that what they did was,
in other words, somehow worth it?
The answers to these remain, like much in this book, a mystery. One would like
to believe, however, that the scientists documented here harbored no illusions
that they were acting in the best tradition of their profession, and that most
scientists know the difference between working in the name of science and working,
as many here did, in the interest of some lesser goal -- the perceived national
interest, say, or the bottom line.
Goliszek would like us to believe otherwise. In the future, scientists will
have unprecedented powers to steer us wrong, and we would do well to be skeptical
about their claims, he says. We need to realize, he writes, "that we're
merely at the water's edge when it comes to scientific advances; and while there's
an entire ocean of new discoveries waiting to be uncovered, we're only now beginning
to feel the salt spray in the air." While Goliszek doesn't quite make the
case that we should indict the entire profession, the note of caution he strikes
is worth hearing.