Archive for the ‘NIH funding’ Category

By Jeannie Baumann

Many scientists now spend more time scrambling to raise money for their work than actually doing the research because of the erosion of NIH funding over the last decade, the president of a biomedical research university said during a June 18 congressional briefing.

Mark Tessier-Lavigne said the 25 percent decline in the National Institutes of Health’s purchasing power has led to grants being funded at historically low rates, causing promising young scientists to leave the field altogether and threatening the future of the biomedical research workforce.

“The financial squeeze has triggered a crisis in the biomedical research enterprise,” according to Tessier-Lavigne, who is president of the Rockefeller University in New York and investigates how neural circuits in the brain form during embryonic development. “Renewing NIH funding is an essential investment, not just for our health, but also for our economy.”

Tessier-Lavigne was the main speaker at the Capitol Hill briefing, “Paying Dividends: How Federally Funded Biomedical Research Fuels the Pharmaceutical Industry in the U.S.,” which was organized by the Coalition for the Life Sciences and theCongressional Biomedical Research Caucus as part of the 2014 caucus briefing series.

The key point of Tessier-Lavigne’s presentation—that scientific opportunity has never been greater while federal funding for basic research is at a low—has been echoed, especially by NIH Director Francis S. Collins when testifying before lawmakers in both the House and the Senate.

“We live in a golden age of biological research, of disease research, and of drug discovery that’s been enabled by a revolution in the biosciences that’s occurred over the past 40 years, thanks to the development of very powerful technologies,” said Tessier-Lavigne, citing as examples recombinant DNA, gene sequencing, human genetics and imaging. “We can now tackle disease systematically and that is enabling systematic drug discovery.”

The research ecosystem requires early investment through NIH funding to academia to yield the treatments and cures from the pharmaceutical industry, Tessier-Lavigne said.

“There’s a division of labor,” he said. “Most of the scientific discovery that leads to the insights that are built upon are made in academia, in research labs, in research institutes, in universities supported by the NIH. At the other end of the spectrum, industry—mostly large pharmaceutical companies and large biotech companies—are responsible for making the drugs and taking them through human clinical trials.”

Tessier-Lavigne has worked at both ends of the spectrum, serving as chief scientific officer at biotechnology company Genentech before taking over at Rockefeller. He rejected the idea that drug companies could take on funding the basic research. The cost and time lines of drug discovery and development are already too great, he said.

“To make a drug, to get a drug approved there’s huge attritions,” he said. The process starts with targeting 24 projects, and scientists try to make drugs to fight them that yields on average about nine drug candidates that make it into clinical trials.

“But of those nine, only a single one will make it over the finish line as an approved drug,” he said.

That drug-making process takes an average of 13 years, including five years to make the drug candidates and eight years to get to clinical approval. Including failures, he estimated those costs at anywhere between $2 billion to $4 billion per drug.

“So companies that do this are already struggling to succeed just at this. There are no more resources to fund the ferment back here that leads to the identification of new knowledge. The companies can’t do it and they won’t do it,” he said.

“Couldn’t we just rely on other nations to generate the basic knowledge and then industry here could continue to do the translational work?” Tessier-Lavigne asked rhetorically.

“Well, that’s not how it works. Industry wants its R&D [research and development] sites to be located next to the sites of innovation. It’s as simple as that,” he said.

Over the past 30 years, Tessier-Lavigne said, there has been a “massive” transfer of industry from Europe to the U.S. because of the prominence of the U.S. biomedical enterprise.

“If we don’t maintain, sustain our investment in our basic biomedical enterprise, industry will pick up and move to the other sites,” he said, adding that countries like China are where these companies will move, taking jobs with them.
Rep. Jackie Speier (D-Calif.), co-chairman of the Congressional Biomedical Research Caucus, also mentioned that the U.S. may lose its position as the leader in R&D.

“We still lead in terms of patents and overall research, but China is about to eat our lunch,” said Speier, whose district includes the Bay Area and Genentech’s headquarters. “In fact, China has just about eclipsed Japan now in terms of research and within the next 10 years, it is anticipated that they will indeed overcome us in terms of research and development. And that would indeed be a tragic set of circumstances.”
Action Plan

Tessier-Lavigne proposed an action plan that primarily involves gradually restoring NIH funding in absolute dollars to its 2003 level—the final year of a five-year doubling. Since the 2003 doubling, the NIH’s budget has remained flat at about $30 billion. Collins has said that his agency would have about a $40 billion annual budget if the NIH had continued to receive the steady, 3 percent increases it received from the 1970s onward.

Restoring funding to the 2003 levels would relieve the squeeze on existing programs so scientists can focus on their work as well as stimulate new initiatives to accelerate progress and open new areas of discovery, Tessier-Lavigne said.

At the same time, the academic sector has a responsibility to make sure it spends these dollars effectively while developing a pipeline of new talent. And all stakeholders—academia, the NIH, disease foundations and the private sector—must ensure research discoveries are effectively translated into new therapies and cures.

The next congressional briefing is scheduled for July 16 on the advances and potential of embryonic stem cell research, withLawrence Goldstein, director of the University of California, San Diego, Stem Cell Program.

Thanks to Pete Cuomo for bringing this to the attention of the It’s Interesting community.

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Recently the mainstream has come to embrace the fact that the job market for Ph.D. biomedical researchers is overcrowded. According to a new report from a working group of the National Institutes of Health (NIH) Advisory Committee to the Director (ACD), the job market looks very different for physician-scientists. In fact, “[t]here may not be enough [physician-scientists] to replace those preparing to retire,” Jocelyn Kaiser reports in a ScienceInsider.

The working group analyzed data on “M.D.-Ph.D.s, M.D.s, nurses, and other researchers with clinical training” collected from an American Medical Association (AMA) survey, finding—in stark contrast to trends in the number of biomedical Ph.D. graduates—that “[t]he number of physicians conducting research has declined 5.5% since 2003 to about 13,700 in 2012.” The working group also analyzed data from NIH and AMA and found that many NIH-funded principal investigators (PIs) are in their 60s and 70s, and that the number of PIs under 60 is declining.

The data have fueled concern for the future of the physician-scientist population. The need for younger physician-scientists is getting more attention because “we’re worried that they’re [physician-scientists are] going to dry up and this is going to be a serious problem,” said working group co-chair David Ginsburg of the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, in a call with reporters, as quoted by Kaiser.

Kaiser notes that some of the working group’s recommendations for fixing these problems echo those of the 2012 Biomedical Workforce Working Group of the ACD, led by Princeton University molecular biologist Shirley Tilghman: Enrich training programs, and give more weight to proposals from young researchers. “It also recommends creating a category for physician-scientists within the so-called kangaroo, or K99/R00, awards—two-stage awards that include a training grant and research support,” Kaiser writes.

Thanks to Dr. Lutter for bringing this to the attention of the It’s Interesting community.

http://sciencecareers.sciencemag.org/career_magazine/previous_issues/articles/2014_06_10/caredit.a1400145

Rothman

STOCKHOLM (AP) — Two Americans and a German-American won the Nobel Prize in medicine on Monday for discovering how key substances are transported within cells, a process involved in such important activities as brain cell communication and the release of insulin.

James Rothman, 62, of Yale University, Randy Schekman, 64, of the University of California, Berkeley, and Dr. Thomas Sudhof, 57, of Stanford University shared the $1.2 million prize for their research on how tiny bubbles called vesicles act as cargo carriers inside cells.

This traffic control system ensures that the cargo is delivered to the right place at the right time and keeps activities inside cells from descending into chaos, the committee said. Defects can be harmful, leading to neurological diseases, diabetes and disorders affecting the immune system.

“Imagine hundreds of thousands of people who are traveling around hundreds of miles of streets; how are they going to find the right way? Where will the bus stop and open its doors so that people can get out?” Nobel committee secretary Goran Hansson said. “There are similar problems in the cell.”

The winners’ discoveries in the 1970s, ’80s and ’90s have helped doctors diagnose a severe form of epilepsy and immune deficiency diseases in children, Hansson said. In the future, scientists hope the research could lead to medicines against more common types of epilepsy, diabetes and other metabolism deficiencies, he added.

Schekman said he was awakened at 1 a.m. at his home in California by the chairman of the prize committee, just as he was suffering from jetlag after returning from a trip to Germany the night before.

“I wasn’t thinking too straight. I didn’t have anything elegant to say,” he told The Associated Press. “All I could say was ‘Oh my God,’ and that was that.”

He called the prize a wonderful acknowledgment of the work he and his students had done and said he knew it would change his life.

“I called my lab manager and I told him to go buy a couple bottles of Champagne and expect to have a celebration with my lab,” he said.

In the 1970s, Schekman discovered a set of genes that were required for vesicle transport, while Rothman revealed in the 1980s and 1990s how vesicles delivered their cargo to the right places. Also in the ’90s, Sudhof identified the machinery that controls when vesicles release chemical messengers from one brain cell that let it communicate with another.

“This is not an overnight thing. Most of it has been accomplished and developed over many years, if not decades,” Rothman told the AP.

Rothman said he lost grant money for the work recognized by the Nobel committee, but he will now reapply, hoping the Nobel prize will make a difference in receiving funding.

Sudhof, who was born in Germany but moved to the U.S. in 1983 and also has U.S. citizenship, told the AP he received the call from the committee while driving toward the city of Baeza, in southern Spain, where he was due to give a talk.

“I got the call while I was driving and like a good citizen I pulled over and picked up the phone,” he said. “To be honest, I thought at first it was a joke. I have a lot of friends who might play these kinds of tricks.”

The medicine prize kicked off this year’s Nobel announcements. The awards in physics, chemistry, literature, peace and economics will be announced by other prize juries this week and next. Each prize is worth 8 million Swedish kronor ($1.2 million).

Rothman and Schekman won the Albert Lasker Basic Medical Research Award for their research in 2002 — an award often seen as a precursor of a Nobel Prize. Sudhof won the Lasker award this year.

“I might have been just as happy to have been a practicing primary-care doctor,” Sudhof said after winning that prize. “But as a medical student I had interacted with patients suffering from neurodegeneration or acute clinical schizophrenia. It left an indelible mark on my memory.”

Jeremy Berg, former director of the National Institute of General Medical Sciences in Bethesda, Maryland, said Monday’s announcement was “long overdue” and widely expected because the research was “so fundamental, and has driven so much other research.”

Berg, who now directs the Institute for Personalized Medicine at the University of Pittsburgh, said the work provided the intellectual framework that scientists use to study how brain cells communicate and how other cells release hormones. In both cases, vesicles play a key role by delivering their cargo to the cell surface and releasing it to the outside, he told the AP.

So the work has indirectly affected research into virtually all neurological disease as well as other diseases, he said.

Established by Swedish industrialist Alfred Nobel, the Nobel Prizes have been handed out by award committees in Stockholm and Oslo since 1901. The winners always receive their awards on Dec. 10, the anniversary of Nobel’s death in 1896.

Last year’s Nobel medicine award went to Britain’s John Gurdon and Japan’s Shinya Yamanaka for their contributions to stem cell science.

http://news.yahoo.com/americans-german-american-win-medicine-nobel-132221489.html

JN2_2846a1360362374

Daniel Yuan, pictured at his home in Laurel, raised doubts for years about the work of his colleagues in a Johns Hopkins medical research lab. “The denial that I am hearing from almost everyone in the group as a consensus is troubling to me,” he wrote in one e-mail. In December 2011, after 10 years at the lab, he was fired.

By Peter Whoriskey
The Washington Post Published: March 11
The numbers didn’t add up.

Over and over, Daniel Yuan, a medical doctor and statistician, couldn’t understand the results coming out of the lab, a prestigious facility at Johns Hopkins Medical School funded by millions from the National Institutes of Health.

He raised questions with the lab’s director. He reran the calculations on his own. He looked askance at the articles arising from the research, which were published in distinguished journals. He told his colleagues: This doesn’t make sense.

“At first, it was like, ‘Okay — but I don’t really see it,’ ” Yuan recalled. “Then it started to smell bad.”

His suspicions arose as reports of scientific misconduct have become more frequent and critics have questioned the willingness of universities, academic journals and the federal government, which pays for much of the work, to confront the problem.

Eventually, the Hopkins research, which focused on detecting interactions between genes, would win wide acclaim and, in a coup for the researchers, space in the pages of Nature, arguably the field’s most prestigious journal. The medical school even issued a news release when the article appeared last year: “Studies Linked To Better Understanding of Cancer Drugs.”

What very few readers of the Nature paper could know, however, was that behind the scenes, Yuan’s doubts seemed to be having profound effects.

In August, Yu-yi Lin, the lead author of the paper, was found dead in his new lab in Taiwan, a puncture mark in his left arm and empty vials of sedatives and muscle relaxants around him, according to local news accounts — an apparent suicide.

And within hours of this discovery, a note was sent from Lin’s e-mail account to Yuan. The e-mail, which Yuan saved, essentially blamed him for driving Lin to suicide. Yuan had written to Nature’s editors, saying that the paper’s results were overstated and that he found no evidence that the analyses described had actually been conducted. On the day of his death, Lin, 38, the father of three young daughters, was supposed to have finished writing a response to Yuan’s criticisms.

The subject line of the e-mail to Yuan, sent by an unknown person, said “your happy ending.”

“Yu-yi passed away this morning. Now you must be very satisfied with your success,” the e-mail said.

Yuan said he was shocked by the note, so much so that he began to shake.

But in the seven months since, he has wondered why no one — not the other investigators on the project, not the esteemed journal, not the federal government — has responded publicly to the problems he raised about the research.

The passions of scientific debate are probably not much different from those that drive achievement in other fields, so a tragic, even deadly dispute might not be surprising.

But science, creeping ahead experiment by experiment, paper by paper, depends also on institutions investigating errors and correcting them if need be, especially if they are made in its most respected journals.

If the apparent suicide and Yuan’s detailed complaints provoked second thoughts about the Nature paper, though, there were scant signs of it.

The journal initially showed interest in publishing Yuan’s criticism and told him that a correction was “probably” going to be written, according to e-mail rec­ords. That was almost six months ago. The paper has not been corrected.

The university had already fired Yuan in December 2011, after 10 years at the lab. He had been raising questions about the research for years. He was escorted from his desk by two security guards.

More recently, a few weeks after a Washington Post reporter began asking questions, a university spokeswoman said that a correction had been submitted to Nature and that it was under review.

“Your questions will be addressed with that publication,” a spokeswoman for the Hopkins medical school, Kim Hoppe, wrote in an e-mail.

Neither the journal nor the university would disclose the nature of the correction.

Hoppe declined an opportunity to have university personnel sit for interviews.

In the meantime, the paper has been cited 11 times by other published papers building on the findings.

It may be impossible for anyone from outside to know the extent of the problems in the Nature paper. But the incident comes amid a phenomenon that some call a “retraction epidemic.”

Last year, research published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences found that the percentage of scientific articles retracted because of fraud had increased tenfold since 1975.

The same analysis reviewed more than 2,000 retracted biomedical papers and found that 67 percent of the retractions were attributable to misconduct, mainly fraud or suspected fraud.

“You have a lot of people who want to do the right thing, but they get in a position where their job is on the line or their funding will get cut, and they need to get a paper published,” said Ferric C. Fang, one of the authors of the analysis and a medical professor at the University of Washington. “Then they have this tempting thought: If only the data points would line up . . . ”

Fang said retractions may be rising because it is simply easier to cheat in an era of digital images, which can be easily manipulated. But he said the increase is caused at least in part by the growing competition for publication and for NIH grant money.

He noted that in the 1960s, about two out of three NIH grant requests were funded; today, the success rate for applicants for research funding is about one in five. At the same time, getting work published in the most esteemed journals, such as Nature, has become a “fetish” for some scientists, Fang said.

In one sense, the rise in retractions may mean that the scientific enterprise is working — bad work is being discovered and tossed out. But many observers note that universities and journals, while sometimes agreeable to admitting small mistakes, are at times loath to reveal that the essence of published work was simply wrong.

“The reader of scientific information is at the mercy of the scientific institution to investigate or not,” said Adam Marcus, who with Ivan Oransky founded the blog Retraction Watch in 2010. In this case, Marcus said, “if Hopkins doesn’t want to move, we may not find out what is happening for two or three years.”

The trouble is that a delayed response — or none at all — leaves other scientists to build upon shaky work. Fang said he has talked to researchers who have lost months by relying on results that proved impossible to reproduce.

Moreover, as Marcus and Oransky have noted, much of the research is funded by taxpayers. Yet when retractions are done, they are done quietly and “live in obscurity,” meaning taxpayers are unlikely to find out that their money may have been wasted.

Johns Hopkins University typically receives more than $600 million a year from NIH, according to NIH figures.

For someone who has taken on a battle with Johns Hopkins and Nature, Yuan is strikingly soft-spoken.

He grew up in Gainesville, Fla., and attended MIT and then medical school at Johns Hopkins. He worked briefly as a pediatrician and an assistant professor of pediatrics before deciding that he preferred pure research. He has a wife and two kids and is an accomplished violinist.

In 2001, he joined the lab of Jef Boeke, a Hopkins professor of molecular biology and genetics. Boeke’s work on the yeast genome is, as academics put it, “highly cited” — that is, other papers have used some of his articles numerous times for support. Last year, he was named a member of the prestigious American Academy of Arts and Sci­ences.

The lab’s research focused on developing a methodology for finding evidence of genes interacting, primarily in the yeast genome and then in the human genome. Genetic interactions are prized because they yield insights into the traits of the genes involved.

During Yuan’s time there, the lab received millions in NIH funding, and according to internal e-mails, the people in the lab were under pressure to show results. Yuan felt the pressure, too, he says, but as the point person for analyzing the statistical data emerging from the experiments, he felt compelled to raise his concerns.

As far back as 2007, as the group was developing the methodology that would eventually form the basis of the Nature paper, Yuan wrote an anguished e-mail to another senior member of the lab, Pamela Meluh.

“I continue to be in a state of chronic alarm,” he wrote in August 2007. “The denial that I am hearing from almost everyone in the group as a consensus is troubling to me.”

Meluh quickly wrote back: “I have the same level of concern as you in terms of data quality, but I have less basis to think it can be better. . . . I’m always torn between addressing your and my own concerns and being ‘productive.’ ”

Then Boeke weighed in, telling Yuan that if he could improve the data analysis, he should, but that “the clock is ticking.”

“NIH has already given us way more time than we thought we needed and at some point we’ve got to suck it up and run with what we have,” Boeke wrote to Meluh and Yuan.

A few years later, another deadline was looming, and Elise Feingold, an NIH administrator, wanted to know what the lab had accomplished.

“I do need some kind of progress report on what you have been doing the past two years . . . and what you think you can accomplish with these funds,” she wrote to Boeke.

Citing Feingold’s message, ­Meluh wrote to Yuan, asking for help in explaining what the lab had produced. Its members had worked diligently, Yuan says, but hadn’t arrived at the kind of significant findings that generally produce scientific papers.

“I want to make it look like we’ve been busy despite lack of publications,” Meluh wrote.

Meluh did not respond to a request for an interview. Boeke referred questions to the university’s public relations team, which declined to comment further. An NIH official declined to comment.

While Yuan was growing increasingly skeptical of the lab’s methodology, Yu-yi Lin, who was also working at the lab, was trying to extend it. In the past, it had been applied to the yeast genome; Lin would extend it to the human genome — and this would become the basis of the Nature paper.

Lin, who was from Taiwan, was an up-and-comer. As a graduate student at Johns Hopkins just a few years before, he’d won an award for his work in cell metabolism and aging. He was also arranging for a prestigious spot at National Taiwan University.

At one point, when he was still at the Boeke lab at Hopkins, Lin asked Yuan to help analyze the data that would become the basis for the Nature paper, Yuan says. Yuan said he declined to get involved because he thought the methodology still had deep flaws.

Interactions between Lin and Yuan at the lab were few, Yuan said, and at any rate, Yuan had other things to worry about. He was slowly being forced out. He was demoted in 2011 from research associate to an entry-level position. A disagreement over whether Yuan should have asked Boeke if he wanted a byline on a paper erupted into further trouble, e-mail and other records show.

The Johns Hopkins spokeswoman, Hoppe, declined to discuss Yuan’s job termination.

On Dec. 15, 2011, Yuan was forced to leave the lab. He wasn’t allowed to make copies of his cell collection. He spent the next month trying to keep his mind busy. He read books about JavaScript and Photoshop, which he thought would enrich his research abilities. As he looked for other research jobs, he sensed that he had been blackballed.

Then, in February 2012, the Nature paper was published.

The research was a “profound achievement” that would “definitely be a great help to solve and to treat many severe diseases,” according to a news release from National Taiwan University, where Lin was now working.

Upon reading it, Yuan said, he was astonished that Lin had used what he considered a flawed method for finding genetic interactions. It had proved troublesome in the yeast genome, he thought. Could it have possibly been more reliable as it was extended to the human genome?

Lin, Boeke and their co-authors reported discovering 878 genetic interactions, or “hits.”

But Yuan, who was familiar with the data and the statistics, reanalyzed the data in the paper and concluded that there was essentially no evidence for any more than a handful of the 878 genetic interactions.

One of the key problems, Yuan wrote to the Nature editors, was that the numerical threshold the investigators used for determining when a hit had arisen was too low. This meant they would report far more hits than there actually were.

Yuan also calculated that, given the wide variability in the data and the relative precision required to find a true hit, it would have been impossible to arrive at any conclusions at all. By analogy, it would be like a pollster declaring a winner in an election when the margin of error was larger than the difference in the polling results.

“The overwhelming noise in the . . . data and the overstated strength of the genetic interactions together make it difficult to reconstruct any scientific process by which the authors could have inferred valid results from these data,” Yuan wrote to the editors of Nature in July.

His analysis attacks only the first portion of the paper; even if he is correct, the second part of the paper could be true.

Nevertheless, Yuan wanted Nature to publish his criticism, and following instructions from the journal, he forwarded his letter to Boeke and Lin, giving them two weeks to respond.

Just as the two weeks were to elapse, Boeke wrote to Nature asking for an extension of time — “a couple weeks or more” — to address Yuan’s criticism. Boeke explained that end-of-summer schedules and the multiple co-authors made it difficult to respond on time.

A day later, Lin was discovered dead in his office at National Taiwan University.

“Renowned scientist found dead, next to drug bottles,” the headline in the Taipei Times said.

Even in his death, the Nature paper was a kind of shorthand for Lin’s scientific success.

“A research team [Lin] led was featured in the scientific journal Nature in February for their discovery of the key mechanism for maintaining cell energy balance — believed to be linked to cellular aging and cancer,” the newspaper said.

If there was a suicide note, it has not been made public, and it is difficult to know what went through Lin’s mind at the end of his life. The apparent suicide and the e-mail to Yuan suggest only that Lin may have been distraught over the dispute; they do not prove that he acted improperly.

Shortly after the Nature paper appeared, Yuan hired lawyer Lynne Bernabei to challenge the way he was terminated at Hopkins.

In late August, Yuan asked the Nature editors again whether they would publish his criticism. Lin was dead, but Boeke and the others had had a month to respond, and Yuan hadn’t heard a thing.

On Sept. 28, a Nature editor informed Yuan by e-mail that the journal was still waiting on a fuller response from Boeke and that “experiments are being done and probably a Correction written.”

Such a correction has not appeared.

So as a last attempt, he figured he’d try the federal government, which paid for much of the research. But the government suggested that the threat to the federal research, if there was any, ended with Lin’s death.

“It is our understanding that these allegations are being investigated by Johns Hopkins University,” said the letter from the Office of Research Integrity.

Besides, it noted, the person responsible for the paper was Lin.

“Deceased respondents no longer pose a risk,” the letter said.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/business/economy/doubts-about-johns-hopkins-research-have-gone-unanswered-scientist-says/2013/03/11/52822cba-7c84-11e2-82e8-61a46c2cde3d_story_4.html

Thanks to Kebmodee for bringing this to the attention of the It’s Interesting community.

conform and be funded

 

John Ioannidis, a researcher at Stanford University has, along with graduate student Joshua Nicholson, published a commentary piece in the journal Nature, taking the National Institutes of Health (NIH) to task for maintaining a system that they say rewards conformity while ignoring innovation.

NIH is an agency within the US Department of Health and Human Services, and is the primary federal vehicle involved in offering money in the form of grants to researchers working to make in the biosciences. The agency reportedly has a budget of approximately $30 billion a year.

In their commentary piece, Ioannidis and Nicholson suggest that the process used by those in charge at NIH favors those who wish to work on incremental increases in current fields rather than rewarding those seeking funds for innovative, but more risky ventures. To back up their claims, they ran a search on research papers published in major journals over the past decade and found 700 papers that had been cited by authors in other papers at least 1,000 times. Of those papers, they say, just 40 percent of those listed as primary authors were working under an NIH grant.

To determine who to give grants to, NIH uses what are known as Study Sections. Their job is to read proposals sent to them by prospective researchers and then to decide whether to offer a grant to carry out the things discussed in the proposal. The Study Sections are in reality a group of people – a panel made up of scientists in the . And that’s part of a big problem at NIH, Ioannidis and Nicholson write, because people that serve on the panels tend to get more of the grant money. They note that just 0.8 percent of the 700 oft cited papers listed NIH panel members as a primary author. They contend that being highly cited is a credible measure of the degree of innovation of work.

The result the two say, is a system that systemically encourages incremental studies while discouraging those that are looking for big breakthroughs. And that they say, has led to both conformity and mediocrity. This they add goes against NIH’s mandate, which is to “fund the best science.” They recommend that NIH change its grant review process to encourage more innovation even if it means taking more risks.

More information: Research grants: Conform and be funded, Nature, 492, 34–36 (06 December 2012) doi:10.1038/492034a