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By Cynthia Crossen
Wall Street Journal, January 3, 2001
Reprinted from the FEAT Daily Newsletter
When Erdem Cantekin
declared a war of ethics on the University of Pittsburgh Medical
Center, he was an ambitious 42-year-old biomedical engineer
with a future full of promise. He was a tenured professor,
he and his wife, who was pregnant, were preparing to buy their
first house, and he was director of research at a respected
institute at the university.
Fifteen years
later, Dr. Cantekin is broke, his career is in shambles, and
he is widely known in his field as a "troublemaking
whistle-blower," as he puts it. He is deep
in debt to his lawyers and unable to afford a car, let alone
the house he and his wife had once chosen for themselves.
When he walks around the Pittsburgh campus, people who recognize
him avert their eyes.
"I don't
have any life left in this town," Dr. Cantekin says.
"I am in the gulag."
Dr. Cantekin might
have been nothing more than a brief sideshow in the annals
of medical research, except that he is self-righteously persistent,
and more important, his cause is at the center of a
$3 billion-a-year industry:
antibiotics for children's ear infections.
Dr. Cantekin believes
that in 1986, a fellow researcher at Pittsburgh, Charles Bluestone,
manipulated the results of a study on children's antibiotics
to benefit drug companies whose grants and honoraria he had
accepted.
"It
was a fraudulent study," says Dr. Cantekin, who was Dr.
Bluestone's co-investigator on the project. "This isn't
a question of scientific interpretation. They made certain
changes to make the drugs look better."
Partly as a result
of this compromised research, he argues, millions
of children have been taking antibiotics unnecessarily,
spawning a population of antibiotic-resistant "superbugs"
that threaten everyone.
Dr. Bluestone,
a widely respected pediatric ear specialist, believed antibiotics
were useful for the condition called otitis media with effusion,
which is an accumulation of fluid in the middle ear. Lawyers
for Dr. Bluestone and officials of the University of Pittsburgh,
citing continuing litigation, declined to comment for this
article. But in legal documents, they have repeatedly denied
any impropriety in the research.
At the time, there
were no university or government regulations regarding private
funding for research. Dr. Bluestone's paper on his research
was peer-reviewed and accepted for publication by the New
England Journal of Medicine. Dr. Cantekin, university officials
have maintained, was making his allegations out of "malice"
because his point of view on the study had been overridden.
In the years since
the two doctors split over their research, Dr. Cantekin's
allegations against Dr. Bluestone have been weighed by three
University of Pittsburgh committees, three panels of the National
Institutes of Health, a congressional subcommittee, a federal
district court and the U.S. Court of Appeals. The government,
the university and Dr. Cantekin have spent thousands of hours
and millions of dollars trying to sort out what happened in
that Pittsburgh medical laboratory in the mid-1980s. And it
isn't over yet: Dr. Cantekin has brought a whistle-blower
lawsuit against his adversaries, and a trial looms.
Deadly
Consequences
But
as the dispute has moved slowly through these tribunals, medical
science has gradually come to its own conclusions about antibiotics
and ear infections -- and they
are in line with Dr. Cantekin's.
Although more antibiotics
are prescribed today for children's ear infections -- and
for longer periods of time -- in the U.S. than anywhere in
the world, several recent, independently financed studies
have found that for the vast majority of ear infections, antibiotics
are little more effective than no treatment at all.
Worse, physicians
are now seeing in their own practices the potentially deadly
consequences of too many children taking too many antibiotics
-- drug-resistant strains of bacteria. In the past few years,
some pediatricians have begun to prescribe shorter courses
of antibiotics, or even to take a different tack entirely:
so-called watchful waiting. If the infection doesn't clear
up in a few days, then antibiotics are used.
This approach would
have been anathema to the pediatricians of the 1960s and '70s,
for whom antibiotics were a miracle drug.
In
the 1940s and '50s, it was unusual for a child to see a doctor
for a simple earache -- there was little that could be done
for them, and they usually cleared up anyway.
But the consequences
of untreated ear infections were well-known and occasionally
dire. Some children suffered mastoiditis, meningitis, hearing
loss and even death. Doctors and researchers suspected that
antibiotics could help prevent some of these catastrophes,
but there was no scientific proof.
That was the issue
Dr. Cantekin and his then-mentor, Dr. Bluestone, decided to
tackle in the early 1980s. The two men had met in Boston several
years earlier. Dr. Bluestone, a graduate of the University
of Pittsburgh and its medical school, was fast making a name
for himself in pediatric otolaryngology. He has written more
than 300 articles on the subject, as well as serving on government
advisory boards.
Dr. Cantekin, who
was born and raised in Turkey, where his father was a middle-class
public servant, had come to the U.S. to study at the Carnegie
Institute of Technology in Pittsburgh, where he received a
doctorate in biomedical engineering. In 1973, he was introduced
to Dr. Bluestone, who was then working at Boston City Hospital.
Dr. Bluestone hired Dr. Cantekin to help design and carry
out research on children's ear infections.
In 1976, Dr. Bluestone
invited Dr. Cantekin to come to Pittsburgh with him to set
up the new Otitis Media Research Center. A few years later,
the two men designed a large, randomized, double-blinded clinical
trial -- the gold standard of biomedical research. Over five
years, they would compare antibiotic treatment -- specifically,
a generic drug called amoxicillin -- with no treatment at
all on ear infections. Their research received a hefty $17.4
million in grants from the National Institutes of Health.
The first sign
of trouble between the two investigators came in 1984, about
halfway through the trial.
The Otitis Media
Research Center, of which Dr. Bluestone was the overall director,
was then grappling with an accumulated deficit of about $300,000.
Dr. Bluestone wrote letters to three pharmaceutical companies
that made antibiotics for children, asking if they were interested
in having their products tested alongside amoxicillin.
Eventually, several
companies, including Eli Lilly & Co., Ross Laboratories
(now part of Abbott Laboratories) and Beecham Group (now part
of GlaxoSmithKline PLC), contributed about $3.4 million to
support trials of antibiotics for ear infections. "If
we didn't have the support of non-NIH funding, such as from
pharmaceutical companies, we would not be able to complete
our clinical trials," Dr. Bluestone said later in a letter
to the NIH.
In addition,
between 1983 and 1988, Dr. Bluestone received $262,000
in honoraria and travel expenses from pharmaceutical
companies whose drugs he was testing.
After adding new
sponsors, Dr. Bluestone made some changes to the original
study design. Looking at interim data, he concluded that amoxicillin
was effective, compared with a placebo, and he created new
arms of the study to compare two "boutique" antibiotics,
Lilly's Ceclor and Ross's Pediazole, to amoxicillin. The newer
antibiotics can cost between $30 and $70 for a course of treatment,
compared with about $6 for amoxicillin.
Points
of Disagreement
Dr.
Bluestone's changes disturbed Dr. Cantekin, who wasn't convinced
that amoxicillin had been proven superior to a placebo.
The two disagreed
on several items, including the study's primary end point
-- the time at which the drug's effect is assessed. Dr. Bluestone
thought it should be four weeks.
Dr. Cantekin, arguing
that ear infections often recur, decided on eight. The data
showed that after four weeks, a small percentage of children
taking antibiotics had healthier ears than those on a placebo.
But at eight weeks, the two groups had equal numbers of cures.
In terms of scientific protocol, both researchers' choices
were justifiable. Indeed, a panel of experts that reviewed
Dr. Bluestone's research for the federal Office of Scientific
Integrity found "no substantial evidence indicating willful
misrepresentation or a serious deviation from commonly accepted
practices."
Dr.
Cantekin, however, believed that amoxicillin's efficacy was
still open to question, and that the new arms of the study
were therefore useless.
"Every new
drug has been compared with amoxicillin," he says. "If
the benchmark is only as good as a placebo, the whole thing
is a house of cards." Although he himself had accepted
funding from drug companies in the past, Dr. Cantekin decided
to stop. He told the chairman of his department that he no
longer wished to work on privately funded research.
Even
then, Dr. Cantekin was one of only a handful of biomedical
researchers who shunned industry funds.
Since the early
1980s, connections in biomedicine between academics and drug
companies have become so pervasive that a recent footnote
to an article on antidepressants in the New England Journal
of Medicine disclosed more than 350 financial ties between
the authors of the article and pharmaceutical companies that
sell antidepressants.
Many members of
the medical establishment say cooperation between universities
and industry is crucial, given rising research costs and the
desire to attack disease swiftly and systematically. "Not
to have a [public-private partnership] to study and bring
to market new drugs would be a terrible thing," says
Steve Berman, president of the American Academy of Pediatrics.
"The industry budget far outweighs the government budget
for some kinds of research. It's absolutely essential that
industry be involved."
But such connections
may have other, less visible consequences.
The interlocking
interests tend to protect the status quo by suppressing
dissent and give the false impression that there is
no doubt, disagreement or error in biomedical research.
"In an environment
where there seems to be a lot of uncertainty, you may not
get the level of funding you want," says Edward Dangel
of the Boston law firm of Dangel & Fine, one of Dr. Cantekin's
lawyers. "You don't want to look disorganized."
At Pittsburgh,
as at most other research universities, industry money has
helped to step up the pace and rewards of innovation. For
the fiscal year ended June 30, 1999, Pittsburgh received more
than $36.3 million in corporate grants, about 11% of overall
research funding.
While Pittsburgh
was encouraging private industry to fund biomedical research,
the National Institutes of Health was also unfazed by researchers
commingling government and industry money. In the early 1980s,
neither the NIH nor most research universities had formal
conflict-of-interest guidelines.
Scientists
were assumed to be impervious to financial temptations,
and while disclosure of private funding was required on grant
applications, it wasn't considered relevant to a project's
merit.
"It was common
knowledge that [Dr. Bluestone] was partially supported by
drug company money," said Ralph Naunton, a former official
of the National Institute on Deafness and Other Communication
Disorders, in a deposition. "We had Dr. Bluestone's verbal
assurance that there was no conflict." (Dr. Naunton has
since retired and couldn't be reached for comment.)
In 1985, with their
data complete, Dr. Cantekin and Dr. Bluestone found themselves
in an unusual position:
Using
the same statistics, Dr. Bluestone judged antibiotics useful
for ear infections, while Dr. Cantekin declared the opposite.
Dr. Cantekin tried
to persuade other members of the research team that he was
right and Dr. Bluestone wrong. Dr. Cantekin "was rigid,"
Dr. Bluestone told the Office of Scientific Integrity in 1989.
"He only wanted it presented his way. He did not listen
to anybody else. His co-authors had other opinions, and I
felt their opinion was the best." So Dr. Bluestone, the
study's senior investigator, wrote the official paper, and
in the summer of 1986 submitted it to the New England Journal
of Medicine.
Academia has conventions
for scientific disagreements, but Dr. Cantekin, whose grandfathers
were revolutionaries who helped overthrow the Ottoman empire,
isn't a conventional man. Rather than writing a dissenting
letter to the editor, he took the step that would destroy
his career: He drafted a separate report of the study with
his own conclusions and submitted it to the New England Journal
of Medicine. Now holding two reports on the same study, the
medical journal asked officials at Pittsburgh to choose one
paper for publication. University officials responded by saying
that only Dr. Bluestone was authorized to publish the data.
For the next five
years, Dr. Cantekin's accusations were considered -- and mostly
rejected -- by several panels. All three university committees
exonerated Dr. Bluestone. One NIH inquiry found that while
Dr. Bluestone should have been more forthright about his acceptance
of private-sector funds when applying for NIH grants, his
conduct was excusable.
Another NIH
report, however, recommended that Dr. Bluestone be placed
on five years of administrative oversight
for "having analyzed the data from NIH-funded
research in a manner biased toward the effectiveness of the
antibiotics he had evaluated with public monies."
Meanwhile, in 1989,
the NIH issued its first draft of conflict-of-interest guidelines
for researchers, which would have been voluntary. The proposal
resulted in a storm of protest from universities and industry.
Officials predicted that the requirement for scientists to
divulge their financial holdings and divest themselves of
stock in companies whose products they tested would cause
"the U.S. biomedical industry to languish in a second-rate
position," as one chief executive of a biotech company
wrote to the NIH. It took six more years before the NIH produced
a final draft.
In 1990, the congressional
subcommittee on Human Resources and Intergovernmental Relations,
which was holding hearings on misconduct in scientific research
that posed public risks, excoriated both the university and
the NIH for their handling of Dr. Cantekin's claims. Most
troubling, the subcommittee reported, was that Dr. Cantekin's
dissenting report had been, for all practical purposes, censored.
"Evidence
of the ineffectiveness of antibiotics would have been available
to physicians and the public several years ago, if the medical
school had not prevented Dr. Cantekin from publishing them,"
the panel noted.
But not even a
congressional endorsement could rescue Dr. Cantekin from his
exile in Pittsburgh, where he was still officially a member
of the faculty, though his salary remained frozen at its 1986
level. He had no research projects, and he hasn't spoken to
an official of the medical school for 15 years. Five times
since 1986, Dr. Cantekin has arrived at his office to find
a note on his door saying that his belongings had been moved
somewhere else.
Now he doesn't
even bother to unpack his few boxes of books and papers. Nor
will he turn on his office computer, which appeared mysteriously
on his desk several months ago, in case his activities are
being monitored. He brings his frustration home to his wife,
a psychologist, and daughter, who has come to hate hearing
her father talk about earaches.
"My
potential has been stolen from me," Dr. Cantekin says.
"No one's going to hire me unless there's a revolution
in the medical profession."
In April 1991,
five years after the war had begun, two big events in the
long-running dispute coincided. One was the publication by
Dr. Bluestone's research team of another paper based on data
collected during the clinical trials of 1981 to 1985. Again
the team concluded that children with ear infections -- in
this case, acute otitis media, or painful and inflamed ears
-- "should routinely be treated with amoxicillin (or
an equivalent antimicrobial drug)."
A close reading
of the data showed that children who hadn't received medication
had a cure rate of 92.5%, compared
with 96% of those who were treated.
Published in the
journal of the American Academy of Pediatrics, the study became
one piece of evidence for a federal panel then drawing up
recommendations for the treatment of otitis media. The panel's
Clinical Practice Guideline for parents stated that antibiotics
"may increase chance (by about 14%) and speed of middle
ear fluid going away." The panel cited the Bluestone
group's study in six of eight footnotes to a chart illustrating
the efficacy of antibiotic treatment.
"If a government
agency advises you that antibiotics are good for children's
ear infections, you don't think, 'Drug companies are behind
that.' But in this case, they were,"
says Danielle Brian, executive director of the Project
on Government Oversight in Washington, D.C.
The second big
event of April 1991 was that Dr. Cantekin filed a lawsuit
against Dr. Bluestone and Pittsburgh in U.S. District Court
in Pittsburgh.
Until then, Dr.
Cantekin had avoided the legal system or any consideration
of a financial settlement with the university. "The first
thing Pittsburgh did when they found out [Dr. Cantekin] had
retained me was to dispatch a lawyer to my office with a checkbook,"
says Robert Potter, a partner in the Pittsburgh law firm of
Strassburger, McKenna, Gutnick & Potter in Pittsburgh.
"The lawyer
closed the door and asked, 'What does he want?'
But
for [Dr. Cantekin], it wasn't a question of money. You couldn't
settle with him because you couldn't settle the scientific
issue."
As his cause began
to fade from public view, and antibiotic prescriptions continued
to rise, Dr. Cantekin invoked the federal False Claims Act,
which allows an individual to sue on the government's behalf
for damages caused by another person's false claims.
Enacted in 1863,
the law has been used almost exclusively against defense contractors.
But recently, it has also become an appeals court for academicians
alleging scientific fraud against universities and scientists.
If the whistle-blower's case is proved, he or she may collect
as much as three times the amount of research grants that
involved fraudulent claims. In his suit, Dr. Cantekin charged
that Dr. Bluestone had fraudulently not disclosed his private
financing in grant applications to the NIH. If the NIH had
known of this drug company money, Dr. Cantekin asserted, Dr.
Bluestone wouldn't have received his federal funding.
Dr. Bluestone and
the university won the first legal round in 1998, when the
district court issued a summary judgment in their favor. The
judge, Donald E. Ziegler, noted that in June 1987, Dr. Bluestone
had sent a letter to the NIH disclosing his private funding
-- "a cost-sharing arrangement was implemented,"
Dr. Bluestone had written, adding, "but it was not explained
fully."
That letter nullified
the claim that Dr. Bluestone hadn't told the government about
his private funding, the court said. Even if Dr. Bluestone
had notified the NIH on his grant applications, as he was
supposed to do, there was no evidence that his NIH funding
would have been jeopardized, the judge decided.
Dr. Cantekin appealed
to the United States Court of Appeals for the Third Circuit,
and in September 1999, he won his first major victory in the
long war.
"One can
easily infer," the appeals court said, that Dr. Bluestone's
letter, which was sent after
Dr. Cantekin had lodged his complaint to the NIH, "was
not an expression of an honest oversight, but an
attempt to cover up prior misconduct and limit its
damage."
'Material
and Negative'
Furthermore, two
of the five members of the NIH panel that had approved Dr.
Bluestone's grants said in affidavits that they hadn't known
about his private funding.
That
information would have had a "material and negative"
impact on their funding decisions, both said.
Finally, the
appellate court found it unlikely that Dr. Bluestone may simply
have misread the instructions on the application, which asked
for a list of "all research support."
The court noted
that for a scientist, the best of both worlds is to enjoy
the munificence of private industry and a government imprimatur
on their studies.
"In investigating
treatments that have a disputed efficacy and a high aggregate
cost," the court said, "[Dr.] Bluestone can be reasonably
expected to know of the government's heightened interest in
avoiding bias." The appellate sent the suit back to the
district court for trial, which hasn't been scheduled yet.
Conflicts of interest
remain a contentious issue in biomedical research, particularly
after the 1999 death of a young man undergoing gene therapy
at an academic center whose director had a financial stake
in the outcome of the procedure. But no one suggests that
private industry, academia and the government should, or even
could, disentangle themselves. As the saying goes, the only
people without conflicts of interest are those who know nothing
at all about the subject.
Erdem
Cantekin wouldn't agree. But 15 years after having
blown the whistle on what he believed was biased medical research,
he has the whistle-blower's greatest regret. "If I had
known the consequences would be so abrupt and severe,"
he says, "I wouldn't have done it."
The Project
On Government Oversight (POGO) is a non-partisan non-profit government
watchdog. Our mission is to investigate, expose, and remedy abuses of
power, mismanagement, and government subservience to special interests
by the federal government.
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