Over at DrugMonkey, PhysioProf notes a recent retraction of an article from the Journal of Neuroscience. What’s interesting about this case is that the authors retract the whole article without any explanation for the retraction. As PhysioProf writes:
There is absolutely no mention of why the paper is being retracted. People who have relied on the retracted manuscript to develop their own research conceptually and/or methodologically have been given no guidance whatsoever on what aspects of the manuscript are considered unreliable, and/or why.
So, asks PhysioProf, have these authors behaved ethically?
I think in order to get clear on what obligations the authors have to the scientific community, it may be useful to start with the question of what this kind of retraction communicates to the scientific community.
Withdrawing an article that has already been published, obviously, communicates that there’s something wrong with the article. When there is something wrong with the article, sharing this information is a good thing — along the lines of identifying the wonky pH-meter for your labmates so they don’t waste their time using it and thinking they’ll get reliable data from it.
In this case, however, the retraction essentially says, something is wrong with what we reported initially, but we’re not going to tell you what.
Either the authors don’t know what’s wrong with the article they’re retracting, or they do know what’s wrong and have decided to keep that information to themselves. In the case that they don’t know what is wrong with the article, presumably there was something tangible that convinced them that something was wrong with it — and they have chosen not to share their clues that a problem exists with the article, even if they can’t precisely locate the problem.
There are lots of ways to goof when conducting (and accurately reporting) scientific research, so it’s easy to imagine what some of the problems that led to this retraction might be. Maybe after the article was published, the authors discovered that they could no longer reproduce their own results. Maybe they made an error in analyzing their data. Maybe they decided their interpretation of the results was wrong. Maybe they discovered a fundamental flaw in their experimental design or measurement technique.
Maybe they discovered that someone on the research team fabricated or falsified results, inappropriately manipulated an image, or really didn’t know what he or she was doing and screwed up the results.
All of these are possibilities that will occur pretty quickly to the scientists reading the retraction. And by not explaining the reason for the retraction, the authors are presenting a situation where readers can’t tell is the problem was an honest mistake or cheating, a result that shouldn’t have been reported in the first place or one that just looks problematic in the light of further knowledge gained since then. The authors are essentially letting their fellow scientists fill in the blank with an explanation for the retraction.
Letting your fellow scientists make up their own minds is usually a good thing. However, it’s customary to present them with enough information to provide the basis for making a judgment. Seeing as how science is an activity based on collecting and communicating (and scrutinizing) information about the objects of study, scientists have a duty to share information with each other. Asking a fellow scientist to render a reasonable judgment when you’re holding back the crucial details needed to render that judgment is not playing fair.
Some might argue that scientists hold back details from each other all the time — that this is how one avoids getting scooped in the battle for priority. However, publishing scientific claims makes what you’re reporting the property of the scientific community. Once it’s in the journal, your obligation to be forthcoming about the details (including answering questions raised by your fellow scientists) is turned on, full strength.
The original article put forward claims with the clear expectation that other scientists might make use of them — using them as a basis to evaluate their own results, or as a starting point for developing and conducting new research, or what have you. In the event that the original article is withdrawn, the obvious question another scientist would ask is, “How does this effect what I was using that knowledge for?”
Having made your claims public (to secure your priority for them), you’re on the hook to share the relevant information around them — even if that information ends up being why you are no longer willing to stand behind those claims. You’d have this obligation even if your fellow scientists hadn’t invested time and resources in trying to build on the results you’re now retracting.
Indeed, a retraction — and the details it includes or omits — does not just communicate a message about how to regard the results reported in the original paper. It also communicates a message about how the scientific community should regard the scientists who produced, reported, and ultimately retracted these results. Are they reliable producers of scientific knowledge or not? Careful or sloppy in their experimental work and data analysis? Honest or dishonest?
Once again, with a retraction so short on details, the scientists reading it have to fill in the blank with their own assessment of the authors as scientists. In the absence of relevant information, they may well err on the side of caution and decide that the authors are as reliable as a wonky pH-meter.
Here, I think there’s an important question about what obligations the authors of the paper (and its retraction) have to each other. If the paper is being retracted owing to mistakes the authors made together, standing together to take responsibility for those mistakes is fine. However, the low-content retraction is ambiguous enough that some readers might wonder if one of the authors in particular make the mistake (or worse, committed the fraud). Removing the ambiguity and taking that possible interpretation seems important, especially so a graduate student or post-doc on the project doesn’t get saddled with being the prime suspect.
On the other hand, if blame for the collapse of the original paper can be localized — especially if it resulted from fraud or gross incompetence — that information is relevant to other scientists, who want to know whose work is trustworthy and who might be a good collaborator in the future. It’s not the case that identifying the author at fault completely absolves the other authors of responsibility — after all, they were all supposed to sign off on and stand behind the results reported in the original article. However, it’s less problematic to trust someone’s skill (or integrity) and discover later you were wrong than it is to conceal this information from the rest of the scientific community.