Science and social responsibility: a case history.

The only way I can approach this problem is at the personal level. I used to think that one could avoid involvement in the antisocial consequences of science simply by not working on any project that might be turned to evil or destructive ends. I have learned that things are not all that simple, and that almost any scientific finding can be perverted or twisted under appropriate societal pressures. h my view, the only recourse for a scientist concerned about the social consequences of his work is to remain involved with it to the end. His responsibility to society does not cease with publication of a definitive scientific paper. Rather, if his discovery is translated into some impact on the world outside the laboratory, he will, in most instances, want to follow through to see that it is used for constructive rather than anti-human purposes. But I know of no moral imperative to invoke here; some individuals feel moved to respond to the social challenge, while others shun such activity, either through timidity, aversion to political argumentation or a feeling that others, better trained, should handle social problems. One approach to more responsible attitudes would be, of course, the substitution of group wisdom for the decision of the individual scientist. Although scientific societies have in the past avoided involvement in social problems, I believe the time has passed when such a laissez-faire attitude is acceptable. Science is now too potent in transforming our world to permit random fallout of the social consequences of scientific discoveries. Some scrutiny and regulation are required, and I believe that scientists must play an important role in any bodies devised to carry out such tasks. As a graduate student at the University of Illinois, I was fortunate enough to discover that a chemica1 known to be active in inhibiting certain aspects of vegetative growth in plants could be used to increase vastly the number of floral buds and ultimately the number of harvestable pods produced on soybean plants that were getting ready to flower. At somewhat higher concentrations, the compound could produce deleterious effects on the plant; among such effects were premature shedding (abscission) of leaves and buds. These observations were recorded in my Ph.D. thesis, completed in 1943, just before I went into military service for several years. After I emerged from service, I discovered two unexpected sequels to the story, one encouraging and one somewhat disturbing in its implications. On the positive side, the International Minerals and Chemical Company had developed the compound (2,3,5-triiodobenzoic acid, or TIBA) into a useful agricultural tool. In certain areas, especially the northerly reaches of the soybean-growing zone, it was sold in large quantities to increase the yield of soybean pods per acre. Under the best of conditions, it increased yield 30%, but because its effects were somewhat erratic and dependent on climatic variables, its use has diminished sharply in recent years as better chemicals were developed. Nonetheless, during the years of its active use, it did result in greater productivity for many farmers, a fact in which I took some satisfaction (although the financial rewards went not to me, of course, but to the company that patented, developed, and exploited the compound). Several years later, I became aware of the fact that workers at the Fort Detrick laboratory of the U. S. Army Chemical Corps had made extensive studies