Association of practice size and pay-for-performance incentives with the quality of diabetes management in primary care

Background:

Not enough is known about the association between practice size and clinical outcomes in primary care. We examined this association between 1997 and 2005, in addition to the impact of the Quality and Outcomes Framework, a pay-for-performance incentive scheme introduced in the United Kingdom in 2004, on diabetes management.

Methods:

We conducted a retrospective open-cohort study using data from the General Practice Research Database. We enrolled 422 general practices providing care for 154 945 patients with diabetes. Our primary outcome measures were the achievement of national treatment targets for blood pressure, glycated hemoglobin (HbA_1c) levels and total cholesterol.

Results:

We saw improvements in the recording of process of care measures, prescribing and achieving intermediate outcomes in all practice sizes during the study period. We saw improvement in reaching national targets after the introduction of the Quality and Outcomes Framework. These improvements significantly exceeded the underlying trends in all practice sizes for achieving targets for cholesterol level and blood pressure, but not for HbA_1c level. In 1997 and 2005, there were no significant differences between the smallest and largest practices in achieving targets for blood pressure (1997 odds ratio [OR] 0.98, 95% confidence interval [CI] 0.82 to 1.16; 2005 OR 0.92, 95% CI 0.80 to 1.06 in 2005), cholesterol level (1997 OR 0.94, 95% CI 0.76 to 1.16; 2005 OR 1.1, 95% CI 0.97 to 1.40) and glycated hemoglobin level (1997 OR 0.79, 95% CI 0.55 to 1.14; 2005 OR 1.05, 95% CI 0.93 to 1.19).

Interpretation:

We found no evidence that size of practice is associated with the quality of diabetes management in primary care. Pay-for-performance programs appear to benefit both large and small practices to a similar extent.There is a well-established body of literature showing positive associations between volume of patients and clinical outcomes in health care, which has been documented by a systematic review.¹ However, this association has usually been examined in a limited number of discrete procedures, and most studies have involved hospital-based services rather than primary care settings.^2–5Improving our understanding of the association between volume of patients and outcomes in primary care is important for several reasons. First, most contacts with health systems occur in primary care settings, and optimizing the delivery of these services has the potential to improve the health of the population.⁶ Second, over the past decade, primary care has assumed greater responsibility for managing the growing burden of chronic disease.^7,8 Larger providers may be better resourced, through the employment of additional support staff and greater use of information technology, to deliver the systematic, structured care necessary for the effective management of chronic disease.^6,9 Third, larger providers may have been more responsive to nonfinancial and financial incentives, including pay for performance, implemented by payers aimed at improving the quality of care.^7,10 Fourth, in many countries, primary care is based around a predominance of small practices.^6,11,12 In 2006, 53% of practices in England and Wales had three or fewer family physicians.¹¹ In the same year in the United States, 30.3% of family physicians were in solo practice; 9.4% were in two-physician practices.¹²Despite the limited data available, concerns have been raised about the standards of care delivered by smaller family practices.¹³ In the United Kingdom and Canada, this has resulted in an explicit policy objective of encouraging smaller practices to amalgamate.^13,14Our study examines the associations between the size of practice and the quality of diabetes management in UK primary care settings between 1997 and 2005. We tested the hypotheses that patients attending larger family practices receive better care for diabetes and that the quality gap between larger and smaller practices has increased over the past decade. We also hypothesized that larger practices derived more benefit from the Quality and Outcomes Framework, a major pay-for-performance program in primary care introduced in 2004.     

Scientific dissent and public policy

The temptation to silence dissenters whose non-mainstream views negatively affect public policies is powerful. However, silencing dissent, no matter how scientifically unsound it might be, can cause the public to mistrust science in general.Dissent is crucial for the advancement of science. Disagreement is at the heart of peer review and is important for uncovering unjustified assumptions, flawed methodologies and problematic reasoning. Enabling and encouraging dissent also helps to generate alternative hypotheses, models and explanations. Yet, despite the importance of dissent in science, there is growing concern that dissenting voices have a negative effect on the public perception of science, on policy-making and public health. In some cases, dissenting views are deliberately used to derail certain policies. For example, dissenting positions on climate change, environmental toxins or the hazards of tobacco smoke [1,2] seem to laypeople as equally valid conflicting opinions and thereby create or increase uncertainty. Critics often use legitimate scientific disagreements about narrow claims to reinforce the impression of uncertainty about general and widely accepted truths; for instance, that a given substance is harmful [3,4]. This impression of uncertainty about the evidence is then used to question particular policies [1,2,5,6].The negative effects of dissent on establishing public polices are present in cases in which the disagreements are scientifically well-grounded, but the significance of the dissent is misunderstood or blown out of proportion. A study showing that many factors affect the size of reef islands, to the effect that they will not necessarily be reduced in size as sea levels rise [7], was simplistically interpreted by the media as evidence that climate change will not have a negative impact on reef islands [8].In other instances, dissenting voices affect the public perception of and motivation to follow public-health policies or recommendations. For example, the publication of a now debunked link between the measles, mumps and rubella vaccine and autism [9], as well as the claim that the mercury preservative thimerosal, which was used in childhood vaccines, was a possible risk factor for autism [10,11], created public doubts about the safety of vaccinating children. Although later studies showed no evidence for these claims, doubts led many parents to reject vaccinations for their children, risking the herd immunity for diseases that had been largely eradicated from the industrialized world [12,13,14,15]. Many scientists have therefore come to regard dissent as problematic if it has the potential to affect public behaviour and policy-making. However, we argue that such concerns about dissent as an obstacle to public policy are both dangerous and misguided.Whether dissent is based on genuine scientific evidence or is unfounded, interested parties can use it to sow doubt, thwart public policies, promote problematic alternatives and lead the public to ignore sound advice. In response, scientists have adopted several strategies to limit these negative effects of dissent—masking dissent, silencing dissent and discrediting dissenters. The first strategy aims to present a united front to the public. Scientists mask existing disagreements among themselves by presenting only those claims or pieces of evidence about which they agree [16]. Although there is nearly universal agreement among scientists that average global temperatures are increasing, there are also legitimate disagreements about how much warming will occur, how quickly it will occur and the impact it might have [7,17,18,19]. As presenting these disagreements to the public probably creates more doubt and uncertainty than is warranted, scientists react by presenting only general claims [20].A second strategy is to silence dissenting views that might have negative consequences. This can take the form of self-censorship when scientists are reluctant to publish or publicly discuss research that might—incorrectly—be used to question existing scientific knowledge. For example, there are genuine disagreements about how best to model cloud formation, water vapour feedback and aerosols in general circulation paradigms, all of which have significant effects on the magnitude of global climate change predictions [17,19]. Yet, some scientists are hesitant to make these disagreements public, for fear that they will be accused of being denialists, faulted for confusing the public and policy-makers, censured for abating climate-change deniers, or criticized for undermining public policy [21,22,23,24].…there is growing concern that dissenting voices can have a negative effect on the public perception of science, on policy-making and public healthAnother strategy is to discredit dissenters, especially in cases in which the dissent seems to be ideologically motivated. This could involve publicizing the financial or political ties of the dissenters [2,6,25], which would call attention to their probable bias. In other cases, scientists might discredit the expertise of the dissenter. One such example concerns a 2007 study published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences USA, which claimed that cadis fly larvae consuming Bt maize pollen die at twice the rate of flies feeding on non-Bt maize pollen [26]. Immediately after publication, both the authors and the study itself became the target of relentless and sometimes scathing attacks from a group of scientists who were concerned that anti-GMO (genetically modified organism) interest groups would seize on the study to advance their agenda [27]. The article was criticized for its methodology and its conclusions, the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences USA was criticized for publishing the article and the US National Science Foundation was criticized for funding the study in the first place.Public policies, health advice and regulatory decisions should be based on the best available evidence and knowledge. As the public often lack the expertise to assess the quality of dissenting views, disagreements have the potential to cast doubt over the reliability of scientific knowledge and lead the public to question relevant policies. Strategies to block dissent therefore seem reasonable as a means to protect much needed or effective health policies, advice and regulations. However, even if the public were unable to evaluate the science appropriately, targeting dissent is not the most appropriate strategy to prevent negative side effects for several reasons. Chiefly, it contributes to the problems that the critics of dissent seek to address, namely increasing the cacophony of dissenting voices that only aim to create doubt. Focusing on dissent as a problematic activity sends the message to policy-makers and the public that any dissent undermines scientific knowledge. Reinforcing this false assumption further incentivizes those who seek merely to create doubt to thwart particular policies. Not surprisingly, think-tanks, industry and other organizations are willing to manufacture dissent simply to derail policies that they find economically or ideologically undesirable.Another danger of targeting dissent is that it probably stifles legitimate crucial voices that are needed for both advancing science and informing sound policy decisions. Attacking dissent makes scientists reluctant to voice genuine doubts, especially if they believe that doing so might harm their reputations, damage their careers and undermine prevailing theories or policies needed. For instance, a panel of scientists for the US National Academy of Sciences, when presenting a risk assessment of radiation in 1956, omitted wildly different predictions about the potential genetic harm of radiation [16]. They did not include this wide range of predictions in their final report precisely because they thought the differences would undermine confidence in their recommendations. Yet, this information could have been relevant to policy-makers. As such, targeting dissent as an obstacle to public policy might simply reinforce self-censorship and stifle legitimate and scientifically informed debate. If this happens, scientific progress is hindered.Second, even if the public has mistaken beliefs about science or the state of the knowledge of the science in question, focusing on dissent is not an effective way to protect public policy from false claims. It fails to address the presumed cause of the problem—the apparent lack of understanding of the science by the public. A better alternative would be to promote the public''s scientific literacy. If the public were educated to better assess the quality of the dissent and thus disregard instances of ideological, unsupported or unsound dissent, dissenting voices would not have such a negative effect. Of course, one might argue that educating the public would be costly and difficult, and that therefore, the public should simply listen to scientists about which dissent to ignore and which to consider. This is, however, a paternalistic attitude that requires the public to remain ignorant ‘for their own good''; a position that seems unjustified on many levels as there are better alternatives for addressing the problem.Moreover, silencing dissent, rather than promoting scientific literacy, risks undermining public trust in science even if the dissent is invalid. This was exemplified by the 2009 case of hacked e-mails from a computer server at the University of East Anglia''s Climate Research Unit (CRU). After the selective leaking of the e-mails, climate scientists at the CRU came under fire because some of the quotes, which were taken out of context, seemed to suggest that they were fudging data or suppressing dissenting views [28,29,30,31]. The stolen e-mails gave further ammunition to those opposing policies to reduce greenhouse emissions as they could use accusations of data ‘cover up'' as proof that climate scientists were not being honest with the public [29,30,31]. It also allowed critics to present climate scientists as conspirators who were trying to push a political agenda [32]. As a result, although there was nothing scientifically inappropriate revealed in the ‘climategate'' e-mails, it had the consequence of undermining the public''s trust in climate science [33,34,35,36].A significant amount of evidence shows that the ‘deficit model'' of public understanding of science, as described above, is too simplistic to account correctly for the public''s reluctance to accept particular policy decisions [37,38,39,40]. It ignores other important factors such as people''s attitudes towards science and technology, their social, political and ethical values, their past experiences and the public''s trust in governmental institutions [41,42,43,44]. The development of sound public policy depends not only on good science, but also on value judgements. One can agree with the scientific evidence for the safety of GMOs, for instance, but still disagree with the widespread use of GMOs because of social justice concerns about the developing world''s dependence on the interests of the global market. Similarly, one need not reject the scientific evidence about the harmful health effects of sugar to reject regulations on sugary drinks. One could rationally challenge such regulations on the grounds that informed citizens ought to be able to make free decisions about what they consume. Whether or not these value judgements are justified is an open question, but the focus on dissent hinders our ability to have that debate.Focusing on dissent as a problematic activity sends the message to policy-makers and the public that any dissent undermines scientific knowledgeAs such, targeting dissent completely fails to address the real issues. The focus on dissent, and the threat that it seems to pose to public policy, misdiagnoses the problem as one of the public misunderstanding science, its quality and its authority. It assumes that scientific or technological knowledge is the only relevant factor in the development of policy and it ignores the role of other factors, such as value judgements about social benefits and harms, and institutional trust and reliability [45,46]. The emphasis on dissent, and thus on scientific knowledge, as the only or main factor in public policy decisions does not give due attention to these legitimate considerations.Furthermore, by misdiagnosing the problem, targeting dissent also impedes more effective solutions and prevents an informed debate about the values that should guide public policy. By framing policy debates solely as debates over scientific facts, the normative aspects of public policy are hidden and neglected. Relevant ethical, social and political values fail to be publicly acknowledged and openly discussed.Controversies over GMOs and climate policies have called attention to the negative effects of dissent in the scientific community. Based on the assumption that the public''s reluctance to support particular policies is the result of their inability to properly understand scientific evidence, scientists have tried to limit dissenting views that create doubt. However, as outlined above, targeting dissent as an obstacle to public policy probably does more harm than good. It fails to focus on the real problem at stake—that science is not the only relevant factor in sound policy-making. Of course, we do not deny that scientific evidence is important to the develop.ment of public policy and behavioural decisions. Rather, our claim is that this role is misunderstood and often oversimplified in ways that actually contribute to problems in developing sound science-based policies.? Open in a separate windowInmaculada de Melo-MartínOpen in a separate windowKristen Intemann     

Improving the quality of care for infants: a cluster randomized controlled trial

Background

We developed and tested a new method, called the Evidence-based Practice for Improving Quality method, for continuous quality improvement.

Methods

We used cluster randomization to assign 6 neonatal intensive care units (ICUs) to reduce nosocomial infection (infection group) and 6 ICUs to reduce bronchopulmonary dysplasia (pulmonary group). We included all infants born at 32 or fewer weeks gestation. We collected baseline data for 1 year. Practice change interventions were implemented using rapid-change cycles for 2 years.

Results

The difference in incidence trends (slopes of trend lines) between the ICUs in the infection and pulmonary groups was − 0.0020 (95% confidence interval [CI] − 0.0007 to 0.0004) for nosocomial infection and − 0.0006 (95% CI − 0.0011 to − 0.0001) for bronchopulmonary dysplasia.

Interpretation

The results suggest that the Evidence-based Practice for Improving Quality method reduced bronchopulmonary dysplasia in the neonatal ICU and that it may reduce nosocomial infection.Although methods for continuous quality improvement have been used to improve outcomes,^1–3 some, such as the National Institutes of Child Health and Human Development Quality Collaborative,⁴ have reported little or no effect in neonatal intensive care units (ICUs). These methods have been criticized for being based on intuition and anecdotes rather than on evidence.⁵ To address these concerns, researchers have developed methods aimed at improving the use of evidence in quality improvement. Tarnow-Mordi and colleagues,⁶ Sankaran and colleagues⁷ and others^8–10 have used benchmarking instruments^6,8,11 to show risk-adjusted variations in outcomes in neonatal ICUs. Synnes and colleagues¹² reported that variations in the rates of intraventricular hemorrhage could be attributed to practice differences. MacNab and colleagues¹³ showed how multilevel modelling methods can be used to identify practice differences associated with variations in outcomes for targeted interventions and to quantify their attributable risks.Building on these results, we developed the Evidence-based Practice for Improving Quality method for continuous quality improvement. This method is based on 3 pillars: the use of evidence from published literature; the use of data from participating hospitals to identify hospital-specific practices for targeted intervention; and the use of a national network to share expertise. By selectively targeting hospital-specific practices for intervention, this method reduces the reliance on intuition and anecdotes that are associated with existing quality-improvement methods.Our objective was to evaluate the efficacy of the Evidence-based Practice for Improving Quality method by conducting a prospective cluster randomized controlled trial to reduce nosocomial infection and bronchopulmonary dysplasia among infants born at 32 or fewer weeks’ gestation and admitted to 12 Canadian Neonatal Network hospitals¹⁴ over a 36-month period. We hypothesized that the incidence of nosocomial infection would be reduced among infants in ICUs randomized to reduce infection but not among those in ICUs randomized to reduce bronchopulmonary dysplasia. We also hypothesized that the incidence of bronchopulmonary dysplasia would be reduced among infants in the ICUs randomized to reduce this outcome but not among those in ICUs randomized to reduce infections.     

Measuring the societal impact of research. Research is less and less assessed on scientific impact alone-we should aim to quantify the increasingly important contributions of science to society

The global financial crisis has changed how nations and agencies prioritize research investment. There has been a push towards science with expected benefits for society, yet devising reliable tools to predict and measure the social impact of research remains a major challenge.Even before the Second World War, governments had begun to invest public funds into scientific research with the expectation that military, economic, medical and other benefits would ensue. This trend continued during the war and throughout the Cold War period, with increasing levels of public money being invested in science. Nuclear physics was the main benefactor, but other fields were also supported as their military or commercial potential became apparent. Moreover, research came to be seen as a valuable enterprise in and of itself, given the value of the knowledge generated, even if advances in understanding could not be applied immediately. Vannevar Bush, science advisor to President Franklin D. Roosevelt during the Second World War, established the inherent value of basic research in his report to the President, Science, the endless frontier, and it has become the underlying rationale for public support and funding of science.However, the growth of scientific research during the past decades has outpaced the public resources available to fund it. This has led to a problem for funding agencies and politicians: how can limited resources be most efficiently and effectively distributed among researchers and research projects? This challenge—to identify promising research—spawned both the development of measures to assess the quality of scientific research itself, and to determine the societal impact of research. Although the first set of measures have been relatively successful and are widely used to determine the quality of journals, research projects and research groups, it has been much harder to develop reliable and meaningful measures to assess the societal impact of research. The impact of applied research, such as drug development, IT or engineering, is obvious but the benefits of basic research are less so, harder to assess and have been under increasing scrutiny since the 1990s [1]. In fact, there is no direct link between the scientific quality of a research project and its societal value. As Paul Nightingale and Alister Scott of the University of Sussex''s Science and Technology Policy Research centre have pointed out: “research that is highly cited or published in top journals may be good for the academic discipline but not for society” [2]. Moreover, it might take years, or even decades, until a particular body of knowledge yields new products or services that affect society. By way of example, in an editorial on the topic in the British Medical Journal, editor Richard Smith cites the original research into apoptosis as work that is of high quality, but that has had “no measurable impact on health” [3]. He contrasts this with, for example, research into “the cost effectiveness of different incontinence pads”, which is certainly not seen as high value by the scientific community, but which has had an immediate and important societal impact.…the growth of scientific research during the past decades has outpaced the public resources available to fund itThe problem actually begins with defining the ‘societal impact of research''. A series of different concepts has been introduced: ‘third-stream activities'' [4], ‘societal benefits'' or ‘societal quality'' [5], ‘usefulness'' [6], ‘public values'' [7], ‘knowledge transfer'' [8] and ‘societal relevance'' [9, 10]. Yet, each of these concepts is ultimately concerned with measuring the social, cultural, environmental and economic returns from publicly funded research, be they products or ideas.In this context, ‘societal benefits'' refers to the contribution of research to the social capital of a nation, in stimulating new approaches to social issues, or in informing public debate and policy-making. ‘Cultural benefits'' are those that add to the cultural capital of a nation, for example, by giving insight into how we relate to other societies and cultures, by providing a better understanding of our history and by contributing to cultural preservation and enrichment. ‘Environmental benefits'' benefit the natural capital of a nation, by reducing waste and pollution, and by increasing natural preserves or biodiversity. Finally, ‘economic benefits'' increase the economic capital of a nation by enhancing its skills base and by improving its productivity [11].Given the variability and the complexity of evaluating the societal impact of research, Barend van der Meulen at the Rathenau Institute for research and debate on science and technology in the Netherlands, and Arie Rip at the School of Management and Governance of the University of Twente, the Netherlands, have noted that “it is not clear how to evaluate societal quality, especially for basic and strategic research” [5]. There is no accepted framework with adequate datasets comparable to,for example, Thomson Reuters'' Web of Science, which enables the calculation of bibliometric values such as the h index [12] or journal impact factor [13]. There are also no criteria or methods that can be applied to the evaluation of societal impact, whilst conventional research and development (R&D) indicators have given little insight, with the exception of patent data. In fact, in many studies, the societal impact of research has been postulated rather than demonstrated [14]. For Benoît Godin at the Institut National de la Recherche Scientifique (INRS) in Quebec, Canada, and co-author Christian Doré, “systematic measurements and indicators [of the] impact on the social, cultural, political, and organizational dimensions are almost totally absent from the literature” [15]. Furthermore, they note, most research in this field is primarily concerned with economic impact.A presentation by Ben Martin from the Science and Technology Policy Research Unit at Sussex University, UK, cites four common problems that arise in the context of societal impact measurements [16]. The first is the causality problem—it is not clear which impact can be attributed to which cause. The second is the attribution problem, which arises because impact can be diffuse or complex and contingent, and it is not clear what should be attributed to research or to other inputs. The third is the internationality problem that arises as a result of the international nature of R&D and innovation, which makes attribution virtually impossible. Finally, the timescale problem arises because the premature measurement of impact might result in policies that emphasize research that yields only short-term benefits, ignoring potential long-term impact.…in many studies, the societal impact of research has been postulated rather than demonstratedIn addition, there are four other problems. First, it is hard to find experts to assess societal impact that is based on peer evaluation. As Robert Frodeman and James Britt Holbrook at the University of North Texas, USA, have noted, “[s]cientists generally dislike impacts considerations” and evaluating research in terms of its societal impact “takes scientists beyond the bounds of their disciplinary expertise” [10]. Second, given that the scientific work of an engineer has a different impact than the work of a sociologist or historian, it will hardly be possible to have a single assessment mechanism [4, 17]. Third, societal impact measurement should take into account that there is not just one model of a successful research institution. As such, assessment should be adapted to the institution''s specific strengths in teaching and research, the cultural context in which it exists and national standards. Finally, the societal impact of research is not always going to be desirable or positive. For example, Les Rymer, graduate education policy advisor to the Australian Group of Eight (Go8) network of university vice-chancellors, noted in a report for the Go8 that, “environmental research that leads to the closure of a fishery might have an immediate negative economic impact, even though in the much longer term it will preserve a resource that might again become available for use. The fishing industry and conservationists might have very different views as to the nature of the initial impact—some of which may depend on their view about the excellence of the research and its disinterested nature” [18].Unlike scientific impact measurement, for which there are numerous established methods that are continually refined, research into societal impact is still in the early stages: there is no distinct community with its own series of conferences, journals or awards for special accomplishments. Even so, governments already conduct budget-relevant measurements, or plan to do so. The best-known national evaluation system is the UK Research Assessment Exercise (RAE), which has evaluated research in the UK since the 1980s. Efforts are under way to set up the Research Excellence Framework (REF), which is set to replace the RAE in 2014 “to support the desire of modern research policy for promoting problem-solving research” [21]. In order to develop the new arrangements for the assessment and funding of research in the REF, the Higher Education Funding Council for England (HEFCE) commissioned RAND Europe to review approaches for evaluating the impact of research [20]. The recommendation from this consultation is that impact should be measured in a quantifiable way, and expert panels should review narrative evidence in case studies supported by appropriate indicators [19,21].…premature measurement of impact might result in policies that emphasize research that yields only short-term benefits, ignoring potential long-term impactMany of the studies that have carried out societal impact measurement chose to do so on the basis of case studies. Although this method is labour-intensive and a craft rather than a quantitative activity, it seems to be the best way of measuring the complex phenomenon that is societal impact. The HEFCE stipulates that “case studies may include any social, economic or cultural impact or benefit beyond academia that has taken place during the assessment period, and was underpinned by excellent research produced by the submitting institution within a given timeframe” [22]. Claire Donovan at Brunel University, London, UK, considers the preference for a case-study approach in the REF to be “the ‘state of the art'' [for providing] the necessary evidence-base for increased financial support of university research across all fields” [23]. According to Finn Hansson from the Department of Leadership, Policy and Philosophy at the Copenhagen Business School, Denmark, and co-author Erik Ernø-Kjølhede, the new REF is “a clear political signal that the traditional model for assessing research quality based on a discipline-oriented Mode 1 perception of research, first and foremost in the form of publication in international journals, was no longer considered sufficient by the policy-makers” [19]. ‘Mode 1'' describes research governed by the academic interests of a specific community, whereas ‘Mode 2'' is characterized by collaboration—both within the scientific realm and with other stakeholders—transdisciplinarity and basic research that is being conducted in the context of application [19].The new REF will also entail changes in budget allocations. The evaluation of a research unit for the purpose of allocations will determine 20% of the societal influence dimension [19]. The final REF guidance contains lists of examples for different types of societal impact [24].Societal impact is much harder to measure than scientific impact, and there are probably no indicators that can be used across all disciplines and institutions for collation in databases [17]. Societal impact often takes many years to become apparent, and “[t]he routes through which research can influence individual behaviour or inform social policy are often very diffuse” [18].Yet, the practitioners of societal impact measurement should not conduct this exercise alone; scientists should also take part. According to Steve Hanney at Brunel University, an expert in assessing payback or impacts from health research, and his co-authors, many scientists see societal impact measurement as a threat to their scientific freedom and often reject it [25]. If the allocation of funds is increasingly oriented towards societal impact issues, it challenges the long-standing reward system in science whereby scientists receive credits—not only citations and prizes but also funds—for their contributions to scientific advancement. However, given that societal impact measurement is already important for various national evaluations—and other countries will follow probably—scientists should become more concerned with this aspect of their research. In fact, scientists are often unaware that their research has a societal impact. “The case study at BRASS [Centre for Business Relationships, Accountability, Sustainability and Society] uncovered activities that were previously ‘under the radar'', that is, researchers have been involved in activities they realised now can be characterized as productive interactions” [26] between them and societal stakeholders. It is probable that research in many fields already has a direct societal impact, or induces productive interactions, but that it is not yet perceived as such by the scientists conducting the work.…research into societal impact is still in the early stages: there is no distinct community with its own series of conferences, journals or awards for special accomplishmentsThe involvement of scientists is also necessary in the development of mechanisms to collect accurate and comparable data [27]. Researchers in a particular discipline will be able to identify appropriate indicators to measure the impact of their kind of work. If the approach to establishing measurements is not sufficiently broad in scope, there is a danger that readily available indicators will be used for evaluations, even if they do not adequately measure societal impact [16]. There is also a risk that scientists might base their research projects and grant applications on readily available and ultimately misleading indicators. As Hansson and Ernø-Kjølhede point out, “the obvious danger is that researchers and universities intensify their efforts to participate in activities that can be directly documented rather than activities that are harder to document but in reality may be more useful to society” [19]. Numerous studies have documented that scientists already base their activities on the criteria and indicators that are applied in evaluations [19, 28, 29].Until reliable and robust methods to assess impact are developed, it makes sense to use expert panels to qualitatively assess the societal relevance of research in the first instance. Rymer has noted that, “just as peer review can be useful in assessing the quality of academic work in an academic context, expert panels with relevant experience in different areas of potential impact can be useful in assessing the difference that research has made” [18].Whether scientists like it or not, the societal impact of their research is an increasingly important factor in attracting the public funding and support of basic researchWhether scientists like it or not, the societal impact of their research is an increasingly important factor in attracting public funding and support of basic research. This has always been the case, but new research into measures that can assess the societal impact of research would provide better qualitative and quantitative data on which funding agencies and politicians could base decisions. At the same time, such measurement should not come at the expense of basic, blue-sky research, given that it is and will remain near-impossible to predict the impact of certain research projects years or decades down the line.     

Listening to public concerns about human life extension

The public view of life-extension technologies is more nuanced than expected and researchers must engage in discussions if they hope to promote awareness and acceptanceThere is increasing research and commercial interest in the development of novel interventions that might be able to extend human life expectancy by decelerating the ageing process. In this context, there is unabated interest in the life-extending effects of caloric restriction in mammals, and there are great hopes for drugs that could slow human ageing by mimicking its effects (Fontana et al, 2010). The multinational pharmaceutical company GlaxoSmithKline, for example, acquired Sirtris Pharmaceuticals in 2008, ostensibly for their portfolio of drugs targeting ‘diseases of ageing''. More recently, the immunosuppressant drug rapamycin has been shown to extend maximum lifespan in mice (Harrison et al, 2009). Such findings have stoked the kind of enthusiasm that has become common in media reports of life-extension and anti-ageing research, with claims that rapamycin might be “the cure for all that ails” (Hasty, 2009), or that it is an “anti-aging drug [that] could be used today” (Blagosklonny, 2007).Given the academic, commercial and media interest in prolonging human lifespan—a centuries-old dream of humanity—it is interesting to gauge what the public thinks about the possibility of living longer, healthier lives, and to ask whether they would be willing to buy and use drugs that slow the ageing process. Surveys that have addressed these questions, have given some rather surprising results, contrary to the expectations of many researchers in the field. They have also highlighted that although human life extension (HLE) and ageing are topics with enormous implications for society and individuals, scientists have not communicated efficiently with the public about their research and its possible applications.Given the academic, commercial and media interest in prolonging human lifespan […] it is interesting to gauge what the public thinks about the possibility of living longer, healthier lives…Proponents and opponents of HLE often assume that public attitudes towards ageing interventions will be strongly for or against, but until now, there has been little empirical evidence with which to test these assumptions (Lucke & Hall, 2005). We recently surveyed members of the public in Australia and found a variety of opinions, including some ambivalence towards the development and use of drugs that could slow ageing and increase lifespan. Our findings suggest that many members of the public anticipate both positive and negative outcomes from this work (Partridge 2009a, b, 2010; Underwood et al, 2009).In a community survey of public attitudes towards HLE we found that around two-thirds of a sample of 605 Australian adults supported research with the potential to increase the maximum human lifespan by slowing ageing (Partridge et al, 2010). However, only one-third expressed an interest in using an anti-ageing pill if it were developed. Half of the respondents were not interested in personally using such a pill and around one in ten were undecided.Some proponents of HLE anticipate their research being impeded by strong public antipathy (Miller, 2002, 2009). Richard Miller has claimed that opposition to the development of anti-ageing interventions often exists because of an “irrational public predisposition” to think that increased lifespans will only lead to elongation of infirmity. He has called this “gerontologiphobia”—a shared feeling among laypeople that while research to cure age-related diseases such as dementia is laudable, research that aims to intervene in ageing is a “public menace” (Miller, 2002).We found broad support for the amelioration of age-related diseases and for technologies that might preserve quality of life, but scepticism about a major promise of HLE—that it will delay the onset of age-related diseases and extend an individual''s healthy lifespan. From the people we interviewed, the most commonly cited potential negative personal outcome of HLE was that it would extend the number of years a person spent with chronic illnesses and poor quality of life (Partridge et al, 2009a). Although some members of the public envisioned more years spent in good health, almost 40% of participants were concerned that a drug to slow ageing would do more harm than good to them personally; another 13% were unsure about the benefits and costs (Partridge et al, 2010).…it might be that advocates of HLE have failed to persuade the public on this issueIt would be unwise to label such concerns as irrational, when it might be that advocates of HLE have failed to persuade the public on this issue. Have HLE researchers explained what they have discovered about ageing and what it means? Perhaps the public see the claims that have been made about HLE as ‘too good to be true‘.Results of surveys of biogerontologists suggest that they are either unaware or dismissive of public concerns about HLE. They often ignore them, dismiss them as “far-fetched”, or feel no responsibility “to respond” (Settersten Jr et al, 2008). Given this attitude, it is perhaps not surprising that the public are sceptical of their claims.Scientists are not always clear about the outcomes of their work, biogerontologists included. Although the life-extending effects of interventions in animal models are invoked as arguments for supporting anti-ageing research, it is not certain that these interventions will also extend healthy lifespans in humans. Miller (2009) reassuringly claims that the available evidence consistently suggests that quality of life is maintained in laboratory animals with extended lifespans, but he acknowledges that the evidence is “sparse” and urges more research on the topic (Miller, 2009). In the light of such ambiguity, researchers need to respond to public concerns in ways that reflect the available evidence and the potential of their work, without becoming apostles for technologies that have not yet been developed. An anti-ageing drug that extends lifespan without maintaining quality of life is clearly undesirable, but the public needs to be persuaded that such an outcome can be avoided.The public is also concerned about the possible adverse side effects of anti-ageing drugs. Many people were bemused when they discovered that members of the Caloric Restriction Society experienced a loss of libido and loss of muscle mass as a result of adhering to a low-calorie diet to extend their longevity—for many people, such side effects would not be worth the promise of some extra years of life. Adverse side effects are acknowledged as a considerable potential challenge to the development of an effective life-extending drug in humans (Fontana et al, 2010). If researchers do not discuss these possible effects, then a curious public might draw their own conclusions.Adverse side effects are acknowledged as a considerable potential challenge to the development of an effective life-extending drug in humansSome HLE advocates seem eager to tout potential anti-ageing drugs as being free from adverse side effects. For example, Blagosklonny (2007) has argued that rapamycin could be used to prevent age-related diseases in humans because it is “a non-toxic, well tolerated drug that is suitable for everyday oral administration” with its major “side-effects” being anti-tumour, bone-protecting, and mimicking caloric restriction effects. By contrast, Kaeberlein & Kennedy (2009) have advised the public against using the drug because of its immunosuppressive effects.Aubrey de Grey has called for scientists to provide more optimistic timescales for HLE on several occasions. He claims that public opposition to interventions in ageing is based on “extraordinarily transparently flawed opinions” that HLE would be unethical and unsustainable (de Grey, 2004). In his view, public opposition is driven by scepticism about whether HLE will be possible, and that concerns about extending infirmity, injustice or social harms are simply excuses to justify people''s belief that ageing is ‘not so bad'' (de Grey, 2007). He argues that this “pro-ageing trance” can only be broken by persuading the public that HLE technologies are just around the corner.Contrary to de Grey''s expectations of public pessimism, 75% of our survey participants thought that HLE technologies were likely to be developed in the near future. Furthermore, concerns about the personal, social and ethical implications of ageing interventions and HLE were not confined to those who believed that HLE is not feasible (Partridge et al, 2010).Juengst et al (2003) have rightly pointed out that any interventions that slow ageing and substantially increase human longevity might generate more social, economic, political, legal, ethical and public health issues than any other technological advance in biomedicine. Our survey supports this idea; the major ethical concerns raised by members of the public reflect the many and diverse issues that are discussed in the bioethics literature (Partridge et al, 2009b; Partridge & Hall, 2007).When pressed, even enthusiasts admit that a drastic extension of human life might be a mixed blessing. A recent review by researchers at the US National Institute on Aging pointed to several economic and social challenges that arise from longevity extension (Sierra et al, 2009). Perry (2004) suggests that the ability to slow ageing will cause “profound changes” and a “firestorm of controversy”. Even de Grey (2005) concedes that the development of an effective way to slow ageing will cause “mayhem” and “absolute pandemonium”. If even the advocates of anti-ageing and HLE anticipate widespread societal disruption, the public is right to express concerns about the prospect of these things becoming reality. It is accordingly unfair to dismiss public concerns about the social and ethical implications as “irrational”, “inane” or “breathtakingly stupid” (de Grey, 2004).The breadth of the possible implications of HLE reinforces the need for more discussion about the funding of such research and management of its outcomes ( Juengst et al, 2003). Biogerontologists need to take public concerns more seriously if they hope to foster support for their work. If there are misperceptions about the likely outcomes of intervention in ageing, then biogerontologists need to better explain their research to the public and discuss how their concerns will be addressed. It is not enough to hope that a breakthrough in human ageing research will automatically assuage public concerns about the effects of HLE on quality of life, overpopulation, economic sustainability, the environment and inequities in access to such technologies. The trajectories of other controversial research areas—such as human embryonic stem cell research and assisted reproductive technologies (Deech & Smajdor, 2007)—have shown that “listening to public concerns on research and responding appropriately” is a more effective way of fostering support than arrogant dismissal of public concerns (Anon, 2009).Biogerontologists need to take public concerns more seriously if they hope to foster support for their work? Open in a separate windowBrad PartridgeOpen in a separate windowJayne LuckeOpen in a separate windowWayne Hall     

Inappropriate use of clinical practices in Canada: a systematic review

Background:Inappropriate health care leads to negative patient experiences, poor health outcomes and inefficient use of resources. We aimed to conduct a systematic review of inappropriately used clinical practices in Canada.Methods:We searched multiple bibliometric databases and grey literature to identify inappropriately used clinical practices in Canada between 2007 and 2021. Two team members independently screened citations, extracted data and assessed methodological quality. Findings were synthesized in 2 categories: diagnostics and therapeutics. We reported ranges of proportions of inappropriate use for all practices. Medians and interquartile ranges (IQRs), based on the percentage of patients not receiving recommended practices (underuse) or receiving practices not recommended (overuse), were calculated. All statistics are at the study summary level.Results:We included 174 studies, representing 228 clinical practices and 28 900 762 patients. The median proportion of inappropriate care, as assessed in the studies, was 30.0% (IQR 12.0%–56.6%). Underuse (median 43.9%, IQR 23.8%–66.3%) was more frequent than overuse (median 13.6%, IQR 3.2%–30.7%). The most frequently investigated diagnostics were glycated hemoglobin (underused, range 18.0%–85.7%, n = 9) and thyroid-stimulating hormone (overused, range 3.0%–35.1%, n = 5). The most frequently investigated therapeutics were statin medications (underused, range 18.5%–71.0%, n = 6) and potentially inappropriate medications (overused, range 13.5%–97.3%, n = 9).Interpretation:We have provided a summary of inappropriately used clinical practices in Canadian health care systems. Our findings can be used to support health care professionals and quality agencies to improve patient care and safety in Canada.

As health care systems struggle with sustainability, there is increased recognition that a substantial percentage of the health care received is inappropriate.¹ Inappropriate health care occurs when effective clinical practices are underused, ineffective clinical practices are overused or other practices are misused. It can lead to negative patient experiences,² poor health outcomes^3,4 and inefficient use of scarce health care resources.⁵ In response, there is widespread professional and policy interest in reducing inappropriate health care in Canada and abroad. For example, in 2014, Choosing Wisely Canada,⁶ a physician-led campaign in partnership with the Canadian Medical Association, was established. This initiative encourages conversations between clinicians and patients about low-value or overused care in efforts to reduce inappropriate care. Choosing Wisely Canada is endorsed across Canada by all provincial and territorial medical associations (https://choosingwiselycanada.org/about/).Although reducing inappropriate health care is a high priority for health care professionals, agencies and governments in Canada, designing effective initiatives for quality improvement has been a difficult goal to achieve without knowledge of which clinical practices are inappropriately used. This is further challenged because Canada does not have a mandatory and comprehensive national tracking system for quality. The Canadian Institute for Health Information (CIHI) houses multiple Canadian health databases, but it does not collect information on all clinical practices. Therefore, a systematic synthesis is necessary to provide an overview of inappropriate health care in Canada.⁷ Summaries of inappropriately used clinical practices exist for several countries: United States,^8,9 United Kingdom¹⁰ and Australia.¹¹ Each of these syntheses found high levels (50% on average) of inappropriately used practices and laid the foundation for several quality improvement initiatives in these countries. We aimed to conduct a systematic review to estimate the nature and amount of inappropriately used clinical practices in Canada.     

Suicidality among sexual minority and transgender adolescents: a nationally representative population-based study of youth in Canada

Background:Very little research has described risk of suicidal ideation and suicide attempt among transgender youth using high-quality, nationally representative data. We aimed to assess risk of suicidality among transgender and sexual minority adolescents in Canada.Methods:We analyzed a subsample of adolescents aged 15–17 years from the 2019 Canadian Health Survey on Children and Youth, a nationally representative, cross-sectional survey. We defined participants’ transgender identity (self-reported gender different from sex assigned at birth) and sexual minority status (self-reported attraction to people of the same gender) as exposures, and their self-reported previous-year suicidal ideation and lifetime suicide attempt as outcomes.Results:We included 6800 adolescents aged 15–17 years, including 1130 (16.5%) who indicated some degree of same-gender attraction, 265 (4.3%) who were unsure of their attraction and 50 (0.6%) who reported a transgender identity. Compared with cisgender, heterosexual adolescents, transgender adolescents showed 5 times the risk of suicidal ideation (95% confidence interval [CI] 3.63 to 6.75; 58% v. 10%) and 7.6 times the risk of suicide attempt (95% CI 4.76 to 12.10; 40% v. 5%). Among cisgender adolescents, girls attracted to girls had 3.6 times the risk of previous-year suicidal ideation (95% CI 2.59 to 5.08) and 3.3 times the risk of having ever attempted suicide (95% CI 1.81 to 6.06), compared with their heterosexual peers. Adolescents attracted to multiple genders had 2.5 times the risk of suicidal ideation (95% CI 2.12 to 2.98) and 2.8 times the risk of suicide attempt (95% CI 2.18 to 3.68). Youth questioning their sexual orientation had twice the risk of having attempted suicide in their lifetime (95% CI 1.23 to 3.36).Interpretation:We observed that transgender and sexual minority adolescents were at increased risk of suicidal ideation and attempt compared with their cisgender and heterosexual peers. These findings highlight the need for inclusive prevention approaches to address suicidality among Canada’s diverse youth population.

Suicide is the second leading cause of death among adolescents and young adults aged 15–24 years in Canada.^1,2 Suicidal ideation and suicide attempt are common among adolescents³ and are risk factors for death by suicide.⁴ Sexual minority youth (i.e., youth who are attracted to the same gender or multiple genders, or who identify as lesbian, gay, bisexual or queer)⁵ are known to be at increased risk of poor mental health,^6–8 including suicidal ideation and attempt.^5–10 Over the previous 2 decades, stigma around identifying as a sexual minority has reduced;⁷ however, the risk of poor mental health and of suicidality remains high among sexual minority youth.^7,11 This population is still more likely to experience bullying and peer victimization,^9,12,13 which is associated with suicidality among sexual minority adolescents.⁵Transgender youth are those whose gender identity does not match their sex assigned at birth.¹⁴ Among other terms, gender-nonconforming, nonbinary, genderqueer and genderfluid are used to describe the gender identity of a subset of young people who identify outside the gender binary (i.e., as neither male nor female) or who experience fluidity between genders.⁹ Suicidality among transgender and gender-nonconforming adolescents is not as well studied. In a Canadian survey of transgender and gender-nonconforming youth aged 14–25 years, 64% of participants reported that they had seriously considered suicide in the previous 12 months.¹⁵ Transgender and gender-nonconforming youth seem to have a higher probability of many risk factors for suicidality, including peer victimization,^8,16 family dysfunction^7,17 and barriers to accessing mental health care.¹⁸ However, the epidemiology of suicidality among transgender and gender-nonconforming youth remains understudied in population-based samples; most research on the mental health of transgender youth comes from small community samples of help-seeking youth or targeted surveys of transgender adolescents.^5,19,20 Two population-based studies from California²¹ and New Zealand²² suggested that transgender youth are at increased risk of suicidal ideation and suicide attempt. However, only the New Zealand study²² used the gold-standard measure of gender identity, contrasting adolescents’ sex assigned at birth with their self-identified gender.²³Further epidemiological research employing large, representative samples and adequate measures of gender identity is needed to understand the burden of suicidality among lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer youth. We sought to build on existing evidence to assess risk of suicidal ideation and attempt among transgender and sexual minority adolescents in Canada, as compared with their cisgender and heterosexual peers, as well as to explore the relation between suicidality and experience of bullying.     

Effect of nasal balloon autoinflation in children with otitis media with effusion in primary care: an open randomized controlled trial

Background:Otitis media with effusion is a common problem that lacks an evidence-based nonsurgical treatment option. We assessed the clinical effectiveness of treatment with a nasal balloon device in a primary care setting.Methods:We conducted an open, pragmatic randomized controlled trial set in 43 family practices in the United Kingdom. Children aged 4–11 years with a recent history of ear symptoms and otitis media with effusion in 1 or both ears, confirmed by tympanometry, were allocated to receive either autoinflation 3 times daily for 1–3 months plus usual care or usual care alone. Clearance of middle-ear fluid at 1 and 3 months was assessed by experts masked to allocation.Results:Of 320 children enrolled, those receiving autoinflation were more likely than controls to have normal tympanograms at 1 month (47.3% [62/131] v. 35.6% [47/132]; adjusted relative risk [RR] 1.36, 95% confidence interval [CI] 0.99 to 1.88) and at 3 months (49.6% [62/125] v. 38.3% [46/120]; adjusted RR 1.37, 95% CI 1.03 to 1.83; number needed to treat = 9). Autoinflation produced greater improvements in ear-related quality of life (adjusted between-group difference in change from baseline in OMQ-14 [an ear-related measure of quality of life] score −0.42, 95% CI −0.63 to −0.22). Compliance was 89% at 1 month and 80% at 3 months. Adverse events were mild, infrequent and comparable between groups.Interpretation:Autoinflation in children aged 4–11 years with otitis media with effusion is feasible in primary care and effective both in clearing effusions and improving symptoms and ear-related child and parent quality of life. Trial registration: ISRCTN, No. 55208702.Otitis media with effusion, also known as glue ear, is an accumulation of fluid in the middle ear, without symptoms or signs of an acute ear infection. It is often associated with viral infection.^1–3 The prevalence rises to 46% in children aged 4–5 years,⁴ when hearing difficulty, other ear-related symptoms and broader developmental concerns often bring the condition to medical attention.^3,5,6 Middle-ear fluid is associated with conductive hearing losses of about 15–45 dB HL.⁷ Resolution is clinically unpredictable,^8–10 with about a third of cases showing recurrence.¹¹ In the United Kingdom, about 200 000 children with the condition are seen annually in primary care.^12,13 Research suggests some children seen in primary care are as badly affected as those seen in hospital.^7,9,14,15 In the United States, there were 2.2 million diagnosed episodes in 2004, costing an estimated $4.0 billion.¹⁶ Rates of ventilation tube surgery show variability between countries,^17–19 with a declining trend in the UK.²⁰Initial clinical management consists of reasonable temporizing or delay before considering surgery.¹³ Unfortunately, all available medical treatments for otitis media with effusion such as antibiotics, antihistamines, decongestants and intranasal steroids are ineffective and have unwanted effects, and therefore cannot be recommended.^21–23 Not only are antibiotics ineffective, but resistance to them poses a major threat to public health.^24,25 Although surgery is effective for a carefully selected minority,^13,26,27 a simple low-cost, nonsurgical treatment option could benefit a much larger group of symptomatic children, with the purpose of addressing legitimate clinical concerns without incurring excessive delays.Autoinflation using a nasal balloon device is a low-cost intervention with the potential to be used more widely in primary care, but current evidence of its effectiveness is limited to several small hospital-based trials²⁸ that found a higher rate of tympanometric resolution of ear fluid at 1 month.^29–31 Evidence of feasibility and effectiveness of autoinflation to inform wider clinical use is lacking.^13,28 Thus we report here the findings of a large pragmatic trial of the clinical effectiveness of nasal balloon autoinflation in a spectrum of children with clinically confirmed otitis media with effusion identified from primary care.     

Stem-cell tourism and scientific responsibility. Stem-cell researchers are in a unique position to curb the problem of stem-cell tourism

Stem-cell tourism exploits the hope of patients desperate for therapies and cures. Scientists have both a special responsibility and a unique role to play in addressing this problem.During the past decade, thousands of patients with a variety of diseases unresponsive to conventional treatment have gone abroad to receive stem-cell therapies. This phenomenon, commonly referred to as ‘stem-cell tourism'', raises significant ethical concerns, because patients often receive treatments that are not only unproven, but also unregulated, potentially dangerous or even fraudulent (Kiatpongsan & Sipp, 2009; Lindvall & Hyun, 2009). Stem-cell clinics have sprung up in recent years to take advantage of desperate patients who have exhausted other alternatives (Ryan et al, 2010). These clinics usually advertise their services directly to consumers through the Internet, make extravagant claims about the benefits, downplay the risks involved and charge hefty fees of US $20,000 or more for treatments (Lau et al, 2008; Regenberg et al, 2009).Stem-cell tourism is regarded as ethically problematic because patients receive unproven therapies from untrustworthy sourcesWith a few exceptions—such as the use of bone-marrow haematopoietic cells to treat leukaemia—novel stem-cell therapies are often unproven in clinical trials (Lindvall & Hyun, 2009). Even well-proven therapies can lead to tumour formation, tissue rejection, autoimmunity, permanent disability and death (Gallagher & Forrest, 2007; Murphy & Blazar, 1999). The risks of unproven and unregulated therapies are potentially much worse (Barclay, 2009).In this commentary, we argue that stem-cell scientists have a unique and important role to play in addressing the problem of stem-cell tourism. Stem-cell scientists should carefully examine all requests to provide cell lines and other materials, and share them only with responsible investigators or clinicians. They should require recipients of stem cells to sign material transfer agreements (MTAs) that describe how the cells may be used, and to provide documentation about their scientific or medical qualifications.In discussing these ethical and regulatory issues, it is important to distinguish between stem-cell tourism and other types of travel to receive medical treatment including stem-cell therapy. Stem-cell tourism is regarded as ethically problematic because patients receive unproven therapies from untrustworthy sources. Other forms of travel usually do not raise troubling ethical issues (Lindvall & Hyun, 2009). Many patients go to other countries to receive proven stem-cell therapies—such as haematopoietic cells to treat leukaemia—from responsible physicians. Other patients obtain unproven stem-cell treatments by participating in scientifically valid, legally sanctioned clinical trials, or by receiving ethically responsible, innovative medical care (Lindvall & Hyun, 2009). In some cases, patients need to travel because the therapy is approved in only some countries; by way of example, on 1 July, Korea was the first country that approved the clinical use of adult stem cells to treat heart attack victims (Heejung & Yi, 2011).…even when regulations are in place, unscrupulous individuals might still evade these rulesAny medical innovation is ethically responsible when it is based on animal studies or other research that guarantee evidence of safety and clinical efficacy. Adequate measures must also be taken to protect patients from harm, such as clinical monitoring, follow-up, exclusion of individuals who are likely to be harmed or are unlikely to benefit, use of only clinical-grade stem cells, careful attention to dosing strategies and informed consent (Lindvall & Hyun, 2009).Many of the articles examining the ethics of stem-cell tourism have focused on the need for more regulatory oversight and education to prevent harm (Lindvall & Hyun, 2009; Caplan & Levine, 2010; Cohen & Cohen, 2010; Zarzeczny & Caulfield, 2010). We agree that additional regulations are needed, as there is little oversight of stem-cell research or therapy at present. Although most countries have regulations for conducting research with human subjects, as well as medical malpractice and licensing laws, these provide general guidance and do not directly address stem-cell therapy.Regulations have significant limitations, however. First, regulations apply intra-nationally, not internationally. If a country passes laws designed to oversee therapy and research, these laws would not apply in another nation. Physicians and investigators who do not want to adhere to these rules can simply move to another country that has a permissive legal environment. International agreements can help to close this regulatory gap, but there will still be countries that do not accept or abide by these agreements. Second, even when regulations are in place, unscrupulous individuals might still evade these rules (Resnik, 1999).Educating patients about the risks of unproven therapies can also help to address the problem of stem-cell tourism. However, education too has significant limitations, since many people will remain ignorant of the dangers of unproven therapies, or they will simply ignore warnings and prudent advice. For many years, cancer patients have travelled to foreign countries to receive unconventional and unproven treatments, despite educational campaigns and media reports discussing the dangers of these therapies. Since the 1970s, thousands of patients have travelled to cancer clinics in Mexico to receive medical treatments not available in the USA (Moss, 2005).Education for physicians on the dangers of unproven stem-cell therapies can be helpful, but this strategy also has limitations, since many will not receive this education or will choose to ignore it. Additionally, responsible physicians might still find it difficult to persuade their patients not to receive an unproven therapy, especially when conventional treatments have failed. The history of cancer treatment offers important lessons here, since many oncologists have tried, unsuccessfully, to convince their patients not travel to foreign countries to receive questionable treatments (Moss, 2005).Since regulation and education have significant shortcomings, it is worth considering another strategy for dealing with the problem of stem-cell tourism, one that focuses on the social responsibilities of stem-cell scientists.Many codes of ethics adopted by scientific associations include provisions relating to social responsibilities (Shamoo & Resnik, 2009). For example, the Code of Ethics of the American Society for Biochemistry and Molecular Biology states that “investigators will promote and follow practices that enhance the public interest or well-being” (American Society of Microbiology, 2011). Social responsibilities in science include an obligation to avoid causing harm and an obligation to benefit the public (Shamoo & Resnik, 2009).…education too has significant limitations, since many people will remain ignorant of the dangers of unproven therapies, or they will simply ignore warnings and prudent adviceThere are two distinct rationales for social responsibility. First, scientists should be accountable to the public since the public provides scientists with funding, facilities and staff (Shamoo & Resnik, 2009). Second, stem-cell scientists are uniquely positioned to exercise their social responsibilities and take effective action pertaining to stem-cell tourism. They understand the science behind stem-cell research, including the potential for harm and the likely clinical efficacy. This knowledge can be used to evaluate the scientific validity of the different uses of stem cells, especially clinical uses. Stem-cell scientists also have control over cell lines and other materials that they may or may not choose to share with other researchers or physicians.Many of the private clinics that offer stem-cell treatments are relatively small and often depend on acquiring resources from scientists working in the field. The materials they might require could include adult, embryonic and fetal stem-cell lines; vectors that can be used to induce pluripotency in isolated adult cells; genes, DNA and RNA sequences; antibodies; purified protein products, such as growth factors; and special cocktails, media or extracellular matrices to culture specific stem-cell types.Social responsibilities in science include an obligation to avoid causing harm and an obligation to benefit the publicOne way in which stem-cell scientists can help to address the problem of stem-cell tourism is to refuse to share cell lines or other materials with physicians or investigators whom they believe might be behaving irresponsibly. To decide whether someone who requests materials is a responsible individual, stem-cell scientists should ask recipients to supply documentation, such as a CV, website, a research or clinical protocol, or clinical trial number, as evidence of their work and expertise in stem cells. This would ensure that the stem cells and other materials are going to be used in the course of responsible biomedical research, a legally sanctioned clinical trial, or in responsible medical innovation. If the recipients provide insufficient documentation, scientists should refuse to honour their requests for materials.Stem-cell scientists should also require recipients to sign MTAs that describe what will be done with the material supplied. MTAs are contracts governing the transfer of materials between organizations and typically include a variety of terms and conditions, such as the purposes for which the materials may be used—commercial or academic research, for example—modification of the materials, transfers to third parties, intellectual property rights, and compliance with legal, regulatory and other policies (Rodriguez, 2005).To help address the problem of stem-cell tourism, MTAs should state whether the materials will be used in humans, and under what conditions. If the stem cells are not clinical grade, the MTA should state that they will not be transplanted into humans, unless the recipients have a well-developed and legally sanctioned procedure—approved by the Food and Drug Administration or other relevant agency—for verifying the quality of the cells and performing the necessary changes to make them acceptable for human use. For example, the recipients could test the cells for viral and bacterial infections, mutations, chemical impurities or other factors that would compromise their clinical utility in an attempt to develop clinical grade cell lines.In addition, the MTA could stipulate that scientists must follow the ethical Guidelines for Clinical Translation of Stem Cells set forth by the International Society for Stem Cell Research (Hyun et al, 2008). These guidelines set forth various preclinical and clinical conditions for stem-cell interventions. Describing such conditions might help to deter unscrupulous individuals from using stem cells for scientifically and ethically questionable practices. By evaluating a recipient''s qualifications and intended uses of stem-cell lines and other reagents, scientists demonstrate social responsibility and uphold public trust when sharing materials.Stem-cell scientists also have control over cell lines and other materials that they may or may not choose to share with other researchers or physiciansSince an MTA is a type of contract between institutions, there is legal recourse if it is broken. A plaintiff could sue a defendant that violates an MTA for breach of contract. Also, if the aggrieved party is a funding agency, it could withhold research funding from the offending party. The onus is on the plaintiff—the scientist and scientific organization providing the materials—to file a lawsuit against the defendants for breach of contract and this requires the scientist or others in the organization to follow-up and ensure that the materials transferred are being used in compliance with the conditions set forth in the MTA.Some might object to our proposal because it violates the principle of scientific openness, which is an integral part of the ethos of science (Shamoo & Resnik, 2009). Scientists have an obligation to share data, reagents, cell lines, methods and other research tools because sharing is vital to the progress of science. Many granting agencies and journals also have policies that require scientists to make data and materials available to other scientists on request (Shamoo & Resnik, 2009).Although openness is vital to the ethical practice of science, it can be superseded by other important factors, such as protecting the privacy and confidentiality of human research subjects, safeguarding proprietary or classified research, securing intellectual property or scientific priority, or preventing bioterrorism (Shamoo & Resnik, 2009). We consider tackling the problem of stem-cell tourism to be a sufficiently important reason for refusing to share research materials in some situations.Although openness is vital to the ethical practice of science, it can be superseded by other important factors…Some might also object to our proposal on the grounds that it places unnecessary burdens on already overworked scientists, or that unscrupulous scientists and physicians will find alternative ways to obtain stem cells, even if investigators refuse to share them.We recognize the need to avoid burdening researchers unnecessarily with administrative work, but we think that verifying the qualifications of a recipient and reviewing a protocol is a reasonable burden. If principal investigators do not wish to shoulder this responsibility, they can ask a postdoctoral fellow or another senior member of the laboratory or faculty to help them. Far from being a waste of time and effort, taking some simple steps to determine whether requests for stem cells come from responsible physicians or investigators can be an important part of the scientific community''s response to stem-cell tourism.A month before his death in 1963, former US President John F. Kennedy (1917-1963) made an address at the Centennial Convocation of the National Academy of Sciences in which he said: “If scientific discovery has not been an unalloyed blessing, if it has conferred on mankind the power not only to create but also to annihilate, it has at the same time provided humanity with a supreme challenge and a supreme testing.” Stem-cell scientists can rise to this challenge and address the problem of stem-cell tourism by ensuring that the products of their research are controlled responsibly and shared wisely with genuine investigators or clinicians through the use of MTAs. Doing so should help to deter fraudulent scientists or physicians from exploiting patients who travel to foreign countries in their desperate search for cures.? Open in a separate windowZubin MasterOpen in a separate windowDavid B Resnik     

Erythropoietin Receptor (EpoR) Agonism Is Used to Treat a Wide Range of Disease

The erythropoietin receptor (EpoR) was discovered and described in red blood cells (RBCs), stimulating its proliferation and survival. The target in humans for EpoR agonists drugs appears clear—to treat anemia. However, there is evidence of the pleitropic actions of erythropoietin (Epo). For that reason, rhEpo therapy was suggested as a reliable approach for treating a broad range of pathologies, including heart and cardiovascular diseases, neurodegenerative disorders (Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s disease), spinal cord injury, stroke, diabetic retinopathy and rare diseases (Friedreich ataxia). Unfortunately, the side effects of rhEpo are also evident. A new generation of nonhematopoietic EpoR agonists drugs (asialoEpo, Cepo and ARA 290) have been investigated and further developed. These EpoR agonists, without the erythropoietic activity of Epo, while preserving its tissue-protective properties, will provide better outcomes in ongoing clinical trials. Nonhematopoietic EpoR agonists represent safer and more effective surrogates for the treatment of several diseases such as brain and peripheral nerve injury, diabetic complications, renal ischemia, rare diseases, myocardial infarction, chronic heart disease and others.In principle, the erythropoietin receptor (EpoR) was discovered and described in red blood cell (RBC) progenitors, stimulating its proliferation and survival. Erythropoietin (Epo) is mainly synthesized in fetal liver and adult kidneys (1–3). Therefore, it was hypothesized that Epo act exclusively on erythroid progenitor cells. Accordingly, the target in humans for EpoR agonists drugs (such as recombinant erythropoietin [rhEpo], in general, called erythropoiesis-simulating agents) appears clear (that is, to treat anemia). However, evidence of a kaleidoscope of pleitropic actions of Epo has been provided (4,5). The Epo/EpoR axis research involved an initial journey from laboratory basic research to clinical therapeutics. However, as a consequence of clinical observations, basic research on Epo/EpoR comes back to expand its clinical therapeutic applicability.Although kidney and liver have long been considered the major sources of synthesis, Epo mRNA expression has also been detected in the brain (neurons and glial cells), lung, heart, bone marrow, spleen, hair follicles, reproductive tract and osteoblasts (6–17). Accordingly, EpoR was detected in other cells, such as neurons, astrocytes, microglia, immune cells, cancer cell lines, endothelial cells, bone marrow stromal cells and cells of heart, reproductive system, gastrointestinal tract, kidney, pancreas and skeletal muscle (18–27). Conversely, Sinclair et al.(28) reported data questioning the presence or function of EpoR on nonhematopoietic cells (endothelial, neuronal and cardiac cells), suggesting that further studies are needed to confirm the diversity of EpoR. Elliott et al.(29) also showed that EpoR is virtually undetectable in human renal cells and other tissues with no detectable EpoR on cell surfaces. These results have raised doubts about the preclinical basis for studies exploring pleiotropic actions of rhEpo (30).For the above-mentioned data, a return to basic research studies has become necessary, and many studies in animal models have been initiated or have already been performed. The effect of rhEpo administration on angiogenesis, myogenesis, shift in muscle fiber types and oxidative enzyme activities in skeletal muscle (4,31), cardiac muscle mitochondrial biogenesis (32), cognitive effects (31), antiapoptotic and antiinflammatory actions (33–37) and plasma glucose concentrations (38) has been extensively studied. Neuro- and cardioprotection properties have been mainly described. Accordingly, rhEpo therapy was suggested as a reliable approach for treating a broad range of pathologies, including heart and cardiovascular diseases, neurodegenerative disorders (Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s disease), spinal cord injury, stroke, diabetic retinopathy and rare diseases (Friedreich ataxia).Unfortunately, the side effects of rhEpo are also evident. Epo is involved in regulating tumor angiogenesis (39) and probably in the survival and growth of tumor cells (25,40,41). rhEpo administration also induces serious side effects such as hypertension, polycythemia, myocardial infarction, stroke and seizures, platelet activation and increased thromboembolic risk, and immunogenicity (42–46), with the most common being hypertension (47,48). A new generation of nonhematopoietic EpoR agonists drugs have hence been investigated and further developed in animals models. These compounds, namely asialoerythropoietin (asialoEpo) and carbamylated Epo (Cepo), were developed for preserving tissue-protective properties but reducing the erythropoietic activity of native Epo (49,50). These drugs will provide better outcome in ongoing clinical trials. The advantage of using nonhematopoietic Epo analogs is to avoid the stimulation of hematopoiesis and thereby the prevention of an increased hematocrit with a subsequent procoagulant status or increased blood pressure. In this regard, a new study by van Rijt et al. has shed new light on this topic (51). A new nonhematopoietic EpoR agonist analog named ARA 290 has been developed, promising cytoprotective capacities to prevent renal ischemia/reperfusion injury (51). ARA 290 is a short peptide that has shown no safety concerns in preclinical and human studies. In addition, ARA 290 has proven efficacious in cardiac disorders (52,53), neuropathic pain (54) and sarcoidosis-induced chronic neuropathic pain (55). Thus, ARA 290 is a novel nonhematopoietic EpoR agonist with promising therapeutic options in treating a wide range of pathologies and without increased risks of cardiovascular events.Overall, this new generation of EpoR agonists without the erythropoietic activity of Epo while preserving tissue-protective properties of Epo will provide better outcomes in ongoing clinical trials (49,50). Nonhematopoietic EpoR agonists represent safer and more effective surrogates for the treatment of several diseases, such as brain and peripheral nerve injury, diabetic complications, renal ischemia, rare diseases, myocardial infarction, chronic heart disease and others.     

Of mice and men

Thomas Erren and colleagues point out that studies on light and circadian rhythmicity in humans have their own interesting pitfalls, of which all researchers should be mindful.We would like to compliment, and complement, the recent Opinion in EMBO reports by Stuart Peirson and Russell Foster (2011), which calls attention to the potential obstacles associated with linking observations on light and circadian rhythmicity made on nocturnal mice to diurnally active humans. Pitfalls to consider include that qualitative extrapolations from short-lived rodents to long-lived humans, quantitative extrapolations of very different doses (Gold et al, 1992), and the varying sensitivities of each species to experimental optical radiation as a circadian stimulus (Bullough et al, 2006) can all have a critical influence on an experiment. Thus, Peirson & Foster remind us that “humans are not big mice”. We certainly agree, but we also thought it worthwhile to point out that human studies have their own interesting pitfalls, of which all researchers should be mindful.Many investigations with humans—such as testing the effects of different light exposures on alertness, cognitive performance, well-being and depression—can suffer from what has been coined as the ‘Hawthorne effect''. The term is derived from a series of studies conducted at the Western Electric Company''s Hawthorne Works near Chicago, Illinois, between 1924 and 1932, to test whether the productivity of workers would change with changing illumination levels. One important punch line was that productivity increased with almost any change that was made at the workplaces. One prevailing interpretation of these findings is that humans who know that they are being studied—and in most investigations they cannot help but notice—might exhibit responses that have little or nothing to do with what was intended as the experiment. Those who conduct circadian biology studies in humans try hard to eliminate possible ‘Hawthorne effects'', but every so often, all they can do is to hope for the best and expect the Hawthorne effect to be insignificant.Even so, and despite the obstacles to circadian experiments with both mice and humans, the wealth of information from work in both species is indispensable. To exemplify, in the last handful of years alone, experimental research in mice has substantially contributed to our understanding of the retinal interface between visible light and circadian circuitry (Chen et al, 2011); has shown that disturbances of the circadian systems through manipulations of the light–dark cycles might accelerate carcinogenesis (Filipski et al, 2009); and has suggested that perinatal light exposure—through an imprinting of the stability of circadian systems (Ciarleglio et al, 2011)—might be related to a human''s susceptibility to mood disorders (Erren et al, 2011a) and internal cancer developments later in life (Erren et al, 2011b). Future studies in humans must now examine whether, and to what extent, what was found in mice is applicable to and relevant for humans.The bottom line is that we must be aware of, and first and foremost exploit, evolutionary legacies, such as the seemingly ubiquitous photoreceptive clockwork that marine and terrestrial vertebrates—including mammals such as mice and humans—share (Erren et al, 2008). Translating insights from studies in animals to humans (Erren et al, 2011a,b), and vice versa, into testable research can be a means to one end: to arrive at sensible answers to pressing questions about light and circadian clockworks that, no doubt, play key roles in human health and disease. Pitfalls, however, abound on either side, and we agree with Peirson & Foster that they have to be recognized and monitored.     

Involving patients in cardiovascular risk management with nurse-led clinics: a cluster randomized controlled trial

Background

Preventive guidelines on cardiovascular risk management recommend lifestyle changes. Support for lifestyle changes may be a useful task for practice nurses, but the effect of such interventions in primary prevention is not clear. We examined the effect of involving patients in nurse-led cardiovascular risk management on lifestyle adherence and cardiovascular risk.

Methods

We performed a cluster randomized controlled trial in 25 practices that included 615 patients. The intervention consisted of nurse-led cardiovascular risk management, including risk assessment, risk communication, a decision aid and adapted motivational interviewing. The control group received a minimal nurse-led intervention. The self-reported outcome measures at one year were smoking, alcohol use, diet and physical activity. Nurses assessed 10-year cardiovascular mortality risk after one year.

Results

There were no significant differences between the intervention groups. The effect of the intervention on the consumption of vegetables and physical activity was small, and some differences were only significant for subgroups. The effects of the intervention on the intake of fat, fruit and alcohol and smoking were not significant. We found no effect between the groups for cardiovascular 10-year risk.

Interpretation

Nurse-led risk communication, use of a decision aid and adapted motivational interviewing did not lead to relevant differences between the groups in terms of lifestyle changes or cardiovascular risk, despite significant within-group differences.It is not clear if programs for lifestyle change are effective in the primary prevention of cardiovascular diseases. Some studies have shown lifestyle improvements with cardiovascular rehabilitation programs,^1–3 and studies in primary prevention have suggested small, but potentially important, reductions in the risk of cardiovascular disease. However, these studies have had limitations and have recommended further research.^4,5 According to national and international guidelines for cardiovascular risk management, measures to prevent cardiovascular disease, such as patient education and support for lifestyle change, can be delegated to practice nurses in primary care.^6–8 However, we do not know whether the delivery of primary prevention programs by practice nurses is effective. We also do no know the effect of nurse-led prevention, including shared decision-making and risk communication, on cardiovascular risk.Because an unhealthy lifestyle plays an important role in the development of cardiovascular disease,^9,10 preventive guidelines on cardiovascular disease and diabetes recommend education and counselling about smoking, diet, physical exercise and alcohol consumption for patients with moderately and highly increased risk.^6,11 These patients are usually monitored in primary care practices. The adherence to lifestyle advice ranges from 20% to 90%,^12–15 and improving adherence requires effective interventions, comprising cognitive, behavioural and affective components (strategies to influence adherence to lifestyle advice via feelings and emotions or social relationships and social supports).¹⁶ Shared treatment decisions are highly preferred. Informed and shared decision-making requires that all information about the cardiovascular risk and the pros and cons of the risk-reduction options be shared with the patient, and that the patients’ individual values, personal resources and capacity for self-determination be respected.^17–19 In our cardiovascular risk reduction study,²⁰ we developed an innovative implementation strategy that included a central role for practice nurses. Key elements of our intervention included risk assessment, risk communication, use of a decision aid and adapted motivational interviewing (Box 1).^19,21,22

Box 1.?Key features of the nurse-led intervention

• Risk assessment (intervention and control): The absolute 10-year mortality risk from cardiovascular diseases was assessed with use of a risk table from the Dutch guidelines (for patients without diabetes) or the UK Prospective Diabetes Study risk engine (for patients with diabetes).^6,23 Nurses in the control group continued to provide usual care after this step.
• Risk communication (intervention only): Nurses informed the patients of their absolute 10-year cardiovascular mortality risk using a risk communication tool developed for this study.^24–37
• Decision support (intervention only): Nurses provied support to the patients using an updated decision aid.²⁸ This tool facilitated the nurses’ interaction with the patients to arrive at informed, value-based choices for risk reduction. The tool provided information about the options and their associated relevant outcomes.
• Adapted motivational interviewing (intervention only): Nurses discussed the options for risk reduction. The patient’s personal values were elicited using adapted motivational interviewing.

In the present study, we investigated whether a nurse-led intervention in primary care had a positive effect on lifestyle and 10-year cardiovascular risk. We hypothesized that involving patients in decision-making would increase adherence to lifestyle changes and decrease the absolute risk of 10-year cardiovascular mortality.     

The academic birth rate. Production and reproduction of the research work force, and its effect on innovation and research misconduct

Universities have been churning out PhD students to reap financial and other rewards for training biomedical scientists. This deluge of cheap labour has created unhealthy competition, which encourages scientific misconduct.Most developed nations invest a considerable amount of public money in scientific research for a variety of reasons: most importantly because research is regarded as a motor for economic progress and development, and to train a research workforce for both academia and industry. Not surprisingly, governments are occasionally confronted with questions about whether the money invested in research is appropriate and whether taxpayers are getting the maximum value for their investments.…questions about the size and composition of the research workforce have historically been driven by concerns that the system produces an insufficient number of scientistsThe training and maintenance of the research workforce is a large component of these investments. Yet discussions in the USA about the appropriate size of this workforce have typically been contentious, owing to an apparent lack of reliable data to tell us whether the system yields academic ‘reproduction rates'' that are above, below or at replacement levels. In the USA, questions about the size and composition of the research workforce have historically been driven by concerns that the system produces an insufficient number of scientists. As Donald Kennedy, then Editor-in-Chief of Science, noted several years ago, leaders in prestigious academic institutions have repeatedly rung alarm bells about shortages in the science workforce. Less often does one see questions raised about whether too many scientists are being produced or concerns about unintended consequences that may result from such overproduction. Yet recognizing that resources are finite, it seems reasonable to ask what level of competition for resources is productive, and at what level does competition become counter-productive.Finding a proper balance between the size of the research workforce and the resources available to sustain it has other important implications. Unhealthy competition—too many people clamouring for too little money and too few desirable positions—creates its own problems, most notably research misconduct and lower-quality, less innovative research. If an increasing number of scientists are scrambling for jobs and resources, some might begin to cut corners in order to gain a competitive edge. Moreover, many in the science community worry that every publicized case of research misconduct could jeopardize those resources, if politicians and taxpayers become unwilling to invest in a research system that seems to be riddled with fraud and misconduct.The biomedical research enterprise in the USA provides a useful context in which to examine the level of competition for resources among academic scientists. My thesis is that the system of publicly funded research in the USA as it is currently configured supports a feedback system of institutional incentives that generate excessive competition for resources in biomedical research. These institutional incentives encourage universities to overproduce graduate students and postdoctoral scientists, who are both trainees and a cheap source of skilled labour for research while in training. However, once they have completed their training, they become competitors for money and positions, thereby exacerbating competitive pressures.Questions raised about whether too many scientists are being produced or concerns about the unintended consequences of such overproduction are less commonThe resulting scarcity of resources, partly through its effect on peer review, leads to a shunting of resources away from both younger researchers and the most innovative ideas, which undermines the effectiveness of the research enterprise as a whole. Faced with an increasing number of grant applications and the consequent decrease in the percentage of projects that can be funded, reviewers tend to ‘play it safe'' and favour projects that have a higher likelihood of yielding results, even if the research is conservative in the sense that it does not explore new questions. Resource scarcity can also introduce unwanted randomness to the process of determining which research gets funded. A large group of scientists, led by a cancer biologist, has recently mounted a campaign against a change in a policy of the National Institutes of Health (NIH) to allow only one resubmission of an unfunded grant proposal (Wadman, 2011). The core of their argument is that peer reviewers are likely able to distinguish the top 20% of research applications from the rest, but that within that top 20%, distinguishing the top 5% or 10% means asking peer reviewers for a level of precision that is simply not possible. With funding levels in many NIH institutes now within that 5–10% range, the argument is that reviewers are being forced to choose at random which excellent applications do and do not get funding. In addition to the inefficiency of overproduction and excessive competition in terms of their costs to society and opportunity costs to individuals, these institutional incentives might undermine the integrity and quality of science, and reduce the likelihood of breakthroughs.My colleagues and I have expressed such concerns about workforce dynamics and related issues in several publications (Martinson, 2007; Martinson et al, 2005, 2006, 2009, 2010). Early on, we observed that, “missing from current analyses of scientific integrity is a consideration of the wider research environment, including institutional and systemic structures” (Martinson et al, 2005). Our more recent publications have been more specific about the institutional and systemic structures concerned. It seems that at least a few important leaders in science share these concerns.In April 2009, the NIH, through the National Institute of General Medical Sciences (NIGMS), issued a request for applications (RFA) calling for proposals to develop computational models of the research workforce (http://grants.nih.gov/grants/guide/rfa-files/RFA-GM-10-003.html). Although such an initiative might be premature given the current level of knowledge, the rationale behind the RFA seems irrefutable: “there is a need to […] pursue a systems-based approach to the study of scientific workforce dynamics.” Roughly four decades after the NIH appeared on the scene, this is, to my knowledge, the first official, public recognition that the biomedical workforce tends not to conform nicely to market forces of supply and demand, despite the fact that others have previously made such arguments.Early last year, Francis Collins, Director of the NIH, published a PolicyForum article in Science, voicing many of the concerns I have expressed about specific influences that have led to growth rates in the science workforce that are undermining the effectiveness of research in general, and biomedical research in particular. He notes the increasing stress in the biomedical research community after the end of the NIH “budget doubling” between 1998 and 2003, and the likelihood of further disruptions when the American Recovery and Reinvestment Act of 2009 (ARRA) funding ends in 2011. Arguing that innovation is crucial to the future success of biomedical research, he notes the tendency towards conservatism of the NIH peer-review process, and how this worsens in fiscally tight times. Collins further highlights the ageing of the NIH workforce—as grants increasingly go to older scientists—and the increasing time that researchers are spending in itinerant and low-paid postdoctoral positions as they stack up in a holding pattern, waiting for faculty positions that may or may not materialize. Having noted these challenging trends, and echoing the central concerns of a 2007 Nature commentary (Martinson, 2007), he concludes that “…it is time for NIH to develop better models to guide decisions about the optimum size and nature of the US workforce for biomedical research. A related issue that needs attention, though it will be controversial, is whether institutional incentives in the current system that encourage faculty to obtain up to 100% of their salary from grants are the best way to encourage productivity.”Similarly, Bruce Alberts, Editor-in-Chief of Science, writing about incentives for innovation, notes that the US biomedical research enterprise includes more than 100,000 graduate students and postdoctoral fellows. He observes that “only a select few will go on to become independent research scientists in academia”, and argues that “assuming that the system supporting this career path works well, these will be the individuals with the most talent and interest in such an endeavor” (Alberts, 2009).His editorial is not concerned with what happens to the remaining majority, but argues that even among the select few who manage to succeed, the funding process for biomedical research “forces them to avoid risk-taking and innovation”. The primary culprit, in his estimation, is the conservatism of the traditional peer-review system for federal grants, which values “research projects that are almost certain to ‘work''”. He continues, “the innovation that is essential for keeping science exciting and productive is replaced by […] research that has little chance of producing the breakthroughs needed to improve human health.”If an increasing number of scientists are scrambling for jobs and resources, some might begin to cut corners in order to gain a competitive edgeAlthough I believe his assessment of the symptoms is correct, I think he has misdiagnosed the cause, in part because he has failed to identify which influence he is concerned with from the network of influences in biomedical research. To contextualize the influences of concern to Alberts, we must consider the remaining majority of doctorally trained individuals so easily dismissed in his editorial, and further examine what drives the dynamics of the biomedical research workforce.Labour economists might argue that market forces will always balance the number of individuals with doctorates with the number of appropriate jobs for them in the long term. Such arguments would ignore, however, the typical information asymmetry between incoming graduate students, whose knowledge about their eventual job opportunities and career options is by definition far more limited than that of those who run the training programmes. They would also ignore the fact that universities are generally not confronted with the externalities resulting from overproduction of PhDs, and have positive financial incentives that encourage overproduction. During the past 40 years, NIH ‘extramural'' funding has become crucial for graduate student training, faculty salaries and university overheads. For their part, universities have embraced NIH extramural funding as a primary revenue source that, for a time, allowed them to implement a business model based on the interconnected assumptions that, as one of the primary ‘outputs'' or ‘products'' of the university, more doctorally trained individuals are always better than fewer, and because these individuals are an excellent source of cheap, skilled labour during their training, they help to contain the real costs of faculty research.“…the current system has succeeded in maximizing the amount of research […] it has also degraded the quality of graduate training and led to an overproduction of PhDs…”However, it has also made universities increasingly dependent on NIH funding. As recently documented by the economist Paula Stephan, most faculty growth in graduate school programmes during the past decade has occurred in medical colleges, with the majority—more than 70%—in non-tenure-track positions. Arguably, this represents a shift of risk away from universities and onto their faculty. Despite perennial cries of concern about shortages in the research workforce (Butz et al, 2003; Kennedy et al, 2004; National Academy of Sciences et al, 2005) a number of commentators have recently expressed concerns that the current system of academic research might be overbuilt (Cech, 2005; Heinig et al, 2007; Martinson, 2007; Stephan, 2007). Some explicitly connect this to structural arrangements between the universities and NIH funding (Cech, 2005; Collins, 2007; Martinson, 2007; Stephan, 2007).In 1995, David Korn pointed out what he saw as some problematic aspects of the business model employed by Academic Medical Centers (AMCs) in the USA during the past few decades (Korn, 1995). He noted the reliance of AMCs on the relatively low-cost, but highly skilled labour represented by postdoctoral fellows, graduate students and others—who quickly start to compete with their own professors and mentors for resources. Having identified the economic dependence of the AMCs on these inexpensive labour pools, he noted additional problems with the graduate training programmes themselves. “These programs are […] imbued with a value system that clearly indicates to all participants that true success is only marked by the attainment of a faculty position in a high-profile research institution and the coveted status of principal investigator on NIH grants.” Pointing to “more than 10 years of severe supply/demand imbalance in NIH funds”, Korn concluded that, “considering the generative nature of each faculty mentor, this enterprise could only sustain itself in an inflationary environment, in which the society''s investment in biomedical research and clinical care was continuously and sharply expanding.” From 1994 to 2003, total funding for biomedical research in the USA increased at an annual rate of 7.8%, after adjustment for inflation. The comparable rate of growth between 2003 and 2007 was 3.4% (Dorsey et al, 2010). These observations resonate with the now classic observation by Derek J. de Solla Price, from more than 30 years before, that growth in science frequently follows an exponential pattern that cannot continue indefinitely; the enterprise must eventually come to a plateau (de Solla Price, 1963).In May 2009, echoing some of Korn''s observations, Nobel laureate Roald Hoffmann caused a stir in the US science community when he argued for a “de-coupling” of the dual roles of graduate students as trainees and cheap labour (Hoffmann, 2009). His suggestion was to cease supporting graduate students with faculty research grants, and to use the money instead to create competitive awards for which graduate students could apply, making them more similar to free agents. During the ensuing discussion, Shirley Tilghman, president of Princeton University, argued that “although the current system has succeeded in maximizing the amount of research performed […] it has also degraded the quality of graduate training and led to an overproduction of PhDs in some areas. Unhitching training from research grants would be a much-needed form of professional ‘birth control''” (Mervis, 2009).The greying of the NIH research workforce is another important driver of workforce dynamics, and it is integrally linked to the fate of young scientistsAlthough the issue of what I will call the ‘academic birth rate'' is the central concern of this analysis, the ‘academic end-of-life'' also warrants some attention. The greying of the NIH research workforce is another important driver of workforce dynamics, and it is integrally linked to the fate of young scientists. A 2008 news item in Science quoted then 70-year-old Robert Wells, a molecular geneticist at Texas A&M University, “‘if I and other old birds continue to land the grants, the [young scientists] are not going to get them.” He worries that the budget will not be able to support “the 100 people ‘I''ve trained […] to replace me''” (Kaiser, 2008). While his claim of 100 trainees might be astonishing, it might be more astonishing that his was the outlying perspective. The majority of senior scientists interviewed for that article voiced intentions to keep doing science—and going after NIH grants—until someone forced them to stop or they died.Some have looked at the current situation with concern, primarily because of the threats it poses to the financial and academic viability of universities (Korn, 1995; Heinig et al, 2007; Korn & Heinig, 2007), although most of those who express such concerns have been distinctly reticent to acknowledge the role of universities in creating and maintaining the situation. Others have expressed concerns about the differential impact of extreme competition and meagre job prospects on the recruitment, development and career survival of young and aspiring scientists (Freeman et al, 2001; Kennedy et al, 2004; Martinson et al, 2006; Anderson et al, 2007a; Martinson, 2007; Stephan, 2007). There seems to be little disagreement, however, that the system has generated excessively high competition for federal research funding, and that this threatens to undermine the very innovation and production of knowledge that is its raison d''etre.The production of knowledge in science, particularly of the ‘revolutionary'' variety, is generally not a linear input–output process with predictable returns on investment, clear timelines and high levels of certainty (Lane, 2009). On the contrary, it is arguable that “revolutionary science is a high risk and long-term endeavour which usually fails” (Charlton & Andras, 2008). Predicting where, when and by whom breakthroughs in understanding will be produced has proven to be an extremely difficult task. In the face of such uncertainty, and denying the realities of finite resources, some have argued that the best bet is to maximize the number of scientists, using that logic to justify a steady-state production of new PhDs, regardless of whether the labour market is sending signals of increasing or decreasing demand for that supply. Only recently have we begun to explore the effects of the current arrangement on the process of knowledge production, and on innovation in particular (Charlton & Andras, 2008; Kolata, 2009).…most of those who express such concerns have been reticent to acknowledge the role of universities themselves in creating and maintaining the situationBruce Alberts, in the above-mentioned editorial, points to several initiatives launched by the NIH that aim to get a larger share of NIH funding into the hands of young scientists with particularly innovative ideas. These include the “New Innovator Award,” the “Pioneer Award” and the “Transformational R01 Awards”. The proportion of NIH funding dedicated to these awards, however, amounts to “only 0.27% of the NIH budget” (Alberts, 2009). Such a small proportion of the NIH budget does not seem likely to generate a large amount of more innovative science. Moreover, to the extent that such initiatives actually succeed in enticing more young investigators to become dependent on NIH funds, any benefit these efforts have in terms of innovation may be offset by further increases in competition for resources that will come when these new ‘innovators'' reach the end of this specialty funding and add to the rank and file of those scrapping for funds through the standard mechanisms.Our studies on research integrity have been mostly oriented towards understanding how the influences within which academic scientists work might affect their behaviour, and thus the quality of the science they produce (Anderson et al, 2007a, 2007b; Martinson et al, 2009, 2010). My colleagues and I have focused on whether biomedical researchers perceive fairness in the various exchange relationships within their work systems. I am persuaded by the argument that expectations of fairness in exchange relationships have been hard-wired into us through evolution (Crockett et al, 2008; Hsu et al, 2008; Izuma et al, 2008; Pennisi, 2009), with the advent of modern markets being a primary manifestation of this. Thus, violations of these expectations strike me as potentially corrupting influences. Such violations might be prime motivators for ill will, possibly engendering bad-faith behaviour among those who perceive themselves to have been slighted, and therefore increasing the risk of research misconduct. They might also corrupt the enterprise by signalling to talented young people that biomedical research is an inhospitable environment in which to develop a career, possibly chasing away some of the most talented individuals, and encouraging a selection of characteristics that might not lead to optimal effectiveness, in terms of scientific innovation and productivity (Charlton, 2009).To the extent that we have an ecology with steep competition that is fraught with high risks of career failure for young scientists after they incur large costs of time, effort and sometimes financial resources to obtain a doctoral degree, why would we expect them to take on the additional, substantial risks involved in doing truly innovative science and asking risky research questions? And why, in such a cut-throat setting, would we not anticipate an increase in corner-cutting, and a corrosion of good scientific practice, collegiality, mentoring and sociability? Would we not also expect a reduction in high-risk, innovative science, and a reversion to a more career-safe type of ‘normal'' science? Would this not reduce the effectiveness of the institution of biomedical research? I do not claim to know the conditions needed to maximize the production of research that is novel, innovative and conducted with integrity. I am fairly certain, however, that putting scientists in tenuous positions in which their careers and livelihoods would be put at risk by pursuing truly revolutionary research is one way to insure against it.