Medical ReportingDisputing the ‘Tale’This 1908 fraudulent newspaper ad led to a Supreme Court decision that the FDA couldnot crack down on therapeutic claims. In response, President William H. Taft askedCongress to override the decision. It did, but prosecuting such claims remains difficult.Courtesy of The Office of History at the Food and Drug Administration.drug company research and manufacturing.In fact, when British scientistshad the first batches of aworkable penicillin in hand in May1940, they took them to one drugcompany after another, offering thebrilliant discovery for free to anycompany that would do the developmentand marketing. British companiesturned them down, and thescientists flew to the United States,certain that the wealthy Americanswould jump at a chance to marketthe miracle drug. American companiesturned them down flat. Toorisky an investment, they said. Instead,the scientists turned to scientistsworking in government labs;they accepted the challenge the sameday it was offered, and during thenext year carried out the most crucialwork in the drug’s development.Then, after the United States enteredthe war, the U.S. governmentasked the companies to join in nowthat important progress had beenmade. The companies still balked.Finally, they were all but ordered towork on penicillin for the sake ofthe troops. The companies weregiven financial incentives as well and,finally, belatedly, agreed to work onpenicillin.• After the AIDS epidemic started andwas identified as a viral plague, scientistsand public health advocatesurged American companies to beginwork making anti-AIDS drugs. Butthe companies balked; the investmentwas too risky. Perhaps the epidemicwould go away, or not enoughpeople would get sick to make adrug profitable, analysts said. So itwas that the first three vital drugsagainst AIDS came not from industrybut from work in governmentlaboratories.Reading the record of regulationclosely, it appears that the tale of theterrible regulators is just that, a tale. Ithas sprung from a belief in a too-simpletheory of economics, the market ideal.But this belief holds great sway inAmerica in these times.Because of the conflict between thetales and the facts of food and drugregulation that I kept finding in myreporting, eventually I decided to documentit in a book. I found that the truestory of regulation and business hasbeen that modern medical science hasmoved forward by willing and unwillingcooperation between them. Modernmedicine could not have happenedwithout this synergy. The role of theregulator was not that of a barrier; itwas that of a goad. Regulation set highscientific standards that businessesnever would have set or met on theirown, and progress has depended onhigh research standards. Without them,the proof that an advance is really anadvance might never come.Of course, the tales of the terribleregulators go on. And young journalistsare faced with the same difficultchoices. They can quote those who aretelling the “tale” and move on, whiletrying to bring to bear skepticism theymight feel. Or they can take a risk—askfor extra time and try to dig up factsthat can put these “tales” in their propercontext. Take this route and they mightirritate editors, sources and the organizationsthey are questioning. And theymight mark themselves as problemcases, especially if they fail to documenttheir suspicions and end up witha weak story or no story.Chasing this second kind of story isa lot harder. But once in a while, settingthe record straight on one or twowhoppers can make the risk worth it. ■Philip J. Hilts, a 1985 <strong>Nieman</strong> Fellow,has covered health and sciencefor The New York Times and TheWashington Post. He is the author offive books. His most recent is “ProtectingAmerica’s Health: The FDA,Business and One Hundred Years ofRegulation” (Alfred A. Knopf, <strong>2003</strong>).philts@botsnet.bw34 <strong>Nieman</strong> Reports / Summer <strong>2003</strong>
WATCHDOGActing as Watchdog on Cancer ResearchA small newsletter can create big waves with its long and complicated stories.By Paul GoldbergMedical ReportingIn January 2002, soon after our littleweekly newsletter broke a big storyabout troubles at a biotechnologycompany called ImClone Systems Inc.,I got a call from a reporter from one ofthe major dailies. The reporter had aproblem: He had a copy of The CancerLetter in front of him, but was unableto find the material that was makingImClone’s stock drop precipitously.“Look at the confidence interval inthe middle of the first column on pagefour,” I suggested.“The middle of page four?” the reportersaid. “Why isn’t it in the lead?”On some level, I sympathize withthis reporter’s inadvertent criticism:Why wait until page four of a complicated,technical story before quotingan important document issued by theFood and Drug Administration (FDA)?This document turned out to be a “refusalto file” letter informing ImClonethat its application for approval of itsmuch-hyped colorectal cancer agentErbitux was so badly flawed that itdefied scientific evaluation.Ultimately, our publication of thisletter led to a congressional investigationand the continuation of a broadinquiry that came to involve the homedesign guru Martha Stewart, anImClone investor and a friend of thecompany founder, Samuel Waksal.Of course, I knew from the outsetthat this was a major story, which madeit all the more important to write it ina measured tone, with a one-sentencereference to the FDA letter in the lead,a bullet-format summary on page two,and the rest in due course. In settingthe stage for this revelation, I began bydescribing and analyzing the history ofthe controversy so that readers wouldbe able to compare the text of theFDA’s letter with its characterization bythe company. ImClone executivesclaimed that FDA was making a routine,bureaucratic request for a “trainof documentation.” In reality, theagency said the problems with the clinicaltrials were structural, and that meantnew trials would be required.The Cancer Letter’sApproachWe assume that our readers appreciatethe Talmudic complexity of cancer research,that they share our passion forfinding the truth, and that they arecapable of staying awake while readinga thoroughly reported, calmly pacednews story. Through the years, we haveearned a reputation as a watchdogpublication. Yet, many of our readersare in the mainstream of cancer research:They are physicians, scientists,pharmaceutical company executives,bureaucrats, Wall Street analysts, lawyers,patient advocates, and“oncopoliticians.” And, yes, journalistsread it, too.The politics of cancer can be blinding,in part because of the tradition ofpromising the impossible. Had PresidentRichard Nixon’s promises at theoutset of his War on Cancer pannedout, The Cancer Letter would havebecome historically irrelevant in 1976.Similarly, interferon, antiangiogenesisagents, and targeted drugs should havemade cancer a memory, or at least achronic disease.Of course, scientists, when givenenough adoration, are as prone as anyoneto start to believe in their greatness.Meanwhile, their skeptical colleaguesand onlookers have to picktheir battles carefully, which meansthat the majority can be expected tostand by in silence, or even superficiallysupport positions they privatelydisagree with. Yet, deep inside, theyknow that cancer is a multitude ofstubborn diseases that has largely resistedboth treatment and grandstanding.These people pay us $305 a year togive them the unvarnished news. Wehave about 1,200 individual subscribersand eight institutions—cancer centersand pharmaceutical companies—hold site licenses to distribute thenewsletter to employers. They don’tneed hype. They need rigorous, detailedcoverage.The Cancer Letter has been aroundfor three decades. It was started by myfather-in-law, Jerry Boyd, in 1974. Formerlya community newspaper publisher,Jerry saw a journalistic opportunity,as do my wife, Kirsten BoydGoldberg, and I. Every week, workingfrom the basement of our NorthwestWashington home, we produce aneight-page newsletter. Often, the entirenews hole is filled with just onestory: about 5,000 words. If eight pagesaren’t enough, we go up to 12 pages or16. Kirsten, who is the editor and publisher,covers the National Cancer Instituteand the National Institutes ofHealth. I cover the FDA and the pharmaceuticaland biotechnology industries.Some areas of coverage—CapitolHill and patient advocacy—bouncebetween us.As owners of The Cancer Letter, wehave no targets for growth of our business.If, during some years, our grossrevenues or profitability remain flat, orif we lose a subscriber or two as a resultof publishing a hard-hitting story, wedon’t panic. The majority of our storieswould be likely to put an average readerto sleep. Sometimes, when I try tointerest colleagues in picking up storiesI consider important, I hear unsuccessfullysuppressed yawns. Reporterswho call us for quick answers to complicatedquestions tend to be disappointed.Like it or not, the cancer fieldis built on nuance.We write about the gears of thesystem of research and drug development.How are scientific programs selectedto receive funds? How are drugs<strong>Nieman</strong> Reports / Summer <strong>2003</strong> 35