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Research misconduct (, or research, also known as FFP), has become an object of concern, not only for scientists and scholars, but also for managers, funders and publishers of research (Fanelli 2009; European Science Foundation 2010; Drenth 2010; Horbach and Halffman 2016). FFP and other “questionable research practices” (QRP) are discussed in various types of discourse, such as reports, guidelines and codes of conduct, but also in a plethora of scholarly publications, ranging from empirical studies (often from a sociology of science or scientometrics perspective) via normative and/or conceptual analyses (often from a science ethics or philosophy of science perspective) up to editorials. This monograph proposes to study research misconduct from a somewhat different, perspective, namely by analysing , i.e. novels about contemporary research practices, focussing on FFP, but against the backdrop of a more extended research integrity landscape. Such novels, I will argue, help us to understand, but also to open-up and broaden the issues involved. They often entail a multidimensional approach, focussing on individual experiences, but sensitive to the wider systemic context, allowing us to study research misconduct from multiple viewpoints and to see the current wave of scientific misconduct deliberations as symptomatic for fundamental transformations in the ways in which knowledge is currently produced and valued. As Lex Bouter (former Rector and now professor of methodology and integrity at the ) phrases it, “Scientists are exposed to temptations and … it would make a wonderful theme for an exciting movie or a compelling book. The novel is perhaps the best form for investigating the essence of what scientists do, and why they do it” (Bouter 2015, p. 148).

Before addressing Lacan’s views on scientific integrity and research misconduct, I will first outline his views on science as such. For Lacan, science basically entails a process of symbolisation which proceeds via instruments and gadgets (1972–1973/1975, p. 104), producing discursive “emissions” on a massive scale. Modern science eliminates (“decomposes”) the world as we know it from naïve lifeworld experience, replacing it with a completely different kind of universe, composed of symbols (signifiers) referring to concepts (molecules, electrons, quarks, etc.) that represent enigmatic entities whose ontological status (whose materiality or realness) poses a challenge to human imagination (1972–1973/1975, p. 49). The progress of science is the progress of the symbolic order, consuming, incorporating, transforming and obliterating nature as described by Aristotle (1980), namely as φύσις: that which emerges, comes forward on its own accord, having its own inherent principles of change, that which is simply , without our doing. Nature becomes obliterated and dissolved in the course of the ongoing symbolisation or hominisation of the planet (Lacan 1953–1954/1975, p. 291).

In the previous chapter I introduced the conceptual framework. , and the represent three axes or dimensions of the scientific landscape, while Lacan’s four discourses represent strategies for navigating this three-dimensional discursive space. Whereas university discourse centres on expert (S), the discourse of the Master builds on an authoritarian dimension (S), while the discourse of the hysteric places the divided () in a frontal position, but all strategies are eventually forced to face the other two dimensions as well. The discourse of the Master, for instance, is subverted by the power inherent in expert knowledge and challenged by the subjectivity of the rebellious, insubordinate Self, represented by the discourse of the hysteric. The fourth discourse (the discourse of the analyst) opts for an oblique perspective, probing and analysing the other three discourses and their vicissitudes with evenly poised attention.

In 1935, philosopher Edmund Husserl argued that the European Sciences (notably physics) were facing a crisis, not in terms of scientific achievements, but in terms of their meaning for culture and society, for human existence. Science had always been a factor, Husserl argued, had decisively contributed to the humanisation and enlightenment of human culture, to the realisation of the idea of human beings as reasonable citizens of a humane society. But now, scientific research, precisely (in the era of quantum physics) it had become so astonishingly successful, represented a threat to civilisation. It was increasingly questionable whether human ethics and politics would be able to master the technological power unleashed by science. The ethical profile of science had become ambivalent. Science and technology had become neutral forces employable for multiple purposes, good and bad. From a benefactor of humanity and culture, science had turned into a substantial risk. Husserl also claimed that, in 1935, only a small number of individuals (true philosophers, acting as “functionaries of humanity”, p. 17) were aware of the critical nature of the situation, although the broader public (Stockmann’s “majority” as it were) would discover sooner or later what was at stake. In August 1945, when two nuclear bombs were dropped on Japanese cities, Husserl’s gloomy predictions seemed to be confirmed. The atomic bomb became a kind of historical end-point or dead-end. As Peter Sloterdijk, in his reply to Husserl’s pupil Martin Heidegger, later formulated it, the history of science is like the burning away of a conceptual fuse winding from Athens to Hiroshima.

(published in 1925) is an intriguing novel for various reasons, but first of all because this 500–page romance is often regarded as the first real , devoted to experimental laboratory research as a practice, a profession, an ideology, a worldview, a “prominent strand in modern culture” (Schorer 1961, p. 414), a way of life. Named after its key protagonist Martin Arrowsmith, it records an important event in the history of biomedicine: the discovery of the “bacterium–eating” virus: the bacteriophage. But it also addresses a moral ambivalence that runs through biomedicine as a research field, namely the tension between the exacting demands of “pure” research on the one hand and its various (more or less benevolent) applications in medical practice on the other. The novel stages a series of dramatic moral conflicts between the duties of Martin Arrowsmith as a physician (working for the benefit of his patients) and as a researcher (working for the benefit of future generations, of “humankind”), thereby practicing not one but “impossible professions”. Lewis’s lively descriptions of science communication, priority conflicts, funding strategies, research ethics and laboratory rivalries are still relevant today. First and foremost, however, the novel allows us to discern how, beneath biomedicine’s manifest aspiration to promote human well–being, there is a “deeper” impulse, a disconcerting obsession at work that may prove highly disruptive, not only for test animals, research subjects and patients, but also for scientists themselves. Biomedicine’s fuelling desire, its (its will to know) is not predominantly to safe, but rather to life, and the aim of my Lacanian rereading reading is to bring this subliminal dimension to the surface. Lacan’s quadruped will guide our reading:

Charles Percy Snow’s novel (1960) is the eighth volume in his novel sequence (“roman fleuve”) . The book concurs with the principle of unity of time, place and action in the sense that most of the action takes place at a Cambridge college, within a limited time frame (the period 1953–1954), and revolves around a delicate case of fraud. Lewis Eliot, a former college fellow and legal expert is invited to investigate the case and acts as first-person narrator. As a science novel, bridging the gap between literature and science, and other novels may be regarded (somewhat paradoxically perhaps) as a counterpart to Snow’s famous 1959 lecture lamenting the gulf that exists between scientists and “literary intellectuals”, de facto bridged by these novels. He earned a Ph.D. in physics (spectroscopy) in Cambridge and became a Fellow of Christ’s College in 1930 before taking up his sequence.

Prof. Isidore Cantor is a biochemist who became a cell biologist and works at a small university on tumorigenesis research. During a nightly visit to the toilet, he has a eureka-experience. His idea is that, because of some mutation affecting the production of arginine (an amino acid named after its bright, silvery-white colouring) certain proteins are suddenly able to move freely in and out of cells (cell membranes normally permit translocation only in one direction). To test the validity of his brain wave, he designs an innovative experiment with tagged proteins as radioactive labels and orders his post-doc Jeremiah (Jerry) Stafford to perform it. Cantor insists on Jerry’s complete availability for this research, for he believes it may bring them the Nobel Prize, but this commanding assignment puts substantial pressures on the latter’s relationship with girl-friend Celestine Price, a promising biologist, but also a muscular campus athlete who shares an apartment with Leah, a humanities scholar specialised in Bakhtin and dialogism. According to Cantor, to unravel the enigma of tumorigenesis would certainly be a Nobel-prize winning achievement, comparable to climbing Mount Everest or K-2 (p. 37). The analogy between scientific research and mountain climbing occurs several times in the novel and is a well-known trope (Collins 2011; Zwart 2011). Cantor sees his research field as a scientific Himalaya (83) and his project as a scientific Everest (p. 82), while Stafford is referred to as Cantor’s Sherpa (p. 37, p. 83). The Himalaya metaphor (with the Nobel Prize as the summit) reflects the dimension of verticality in academic research (Zwart 2014c).

As a novel addressing scientific misconduct, Pascal Mercier’s notably revolves around plagiarism (the P in FFP), but the broader normative and discursive ambiance of academic existence comes into view as well. Mercier’s novel will be read as a collision between various modes of discourse, mutually exposed to one another, challenging and questioning one another. Four modes of discourse will be distinguished, in accordance with Jacques Lacan’s theorem of the four discourses: the discourse of the Master, of the university, of the hysteric and of the analyst. Subsequently, it will be indicated how these four discourses navigate the discursive landscape determined by three “axes” or dimensions of inquiry, as distinguished by Lacan’s contemporary Michel Foucault, namely , and the (Foucault 1984; Zwart 2008c, 2016c). In university discourse, the focus is on knowledge (the dimension): on the ways in which plagiarism reflects transformations in the knowledge production process. The discourses of the Master and the hysteric revolve around inter-generational and global inequalities in academic research (the dimension). And the discourse of the analyst focusses on the dimension of the Self: the ways in which academics manage or fail to constitute themselves as responsible subjects vis-à-vis integrity challenges emerging in contemporary research practices.

Allegra Goodman’s novel (2006/2010) is set in the fictitious Philpott Institute in Boston, more precisely in a laboratory for biomedical research (run by Marion Mendelssohn and Sandy Glass) where a post-doc (Cliff Banneker) suddenly produces promising results, using a cancer-fighting virus named R-7. Preliminary outcomes lead to a publication in , generating a lot of media attention and opening up new options for funding. The entire laboratory will from now on focus on follow-up research, but one of the other post-docs (Robin Decker, Cliff’s former girlfriend) is unable to replicate the results and soon develops the “intuition” that the data may have been manipulated, although she does not have sufficient evidence to prove that she is right. The only evidence are some sloppy lab notes made by Cliff containing figures which seem to back up her suspicion that something is wrong. She opts for (or is manoeuvred into) the role of whistle-blower, however, and the (ORIS, an acronym/signifier which adds an S to ORI, the ) of the (NIH) concludes that there is indeed evidence of scientific misconduct, although this verdict is later annulled on procedural grounds. Meanwhile, a U.S. Senator uses the case to further his crusade against science, resulting in a media circus and a formal hearing. To make matters worse, the tumour recurs in some of the mice, while other labs also have problems replicating Cliff’s results. As Lex Bouter (2015, p. 149) phrases it: “even on the last page, the reader is still not able to get to the bottom of what really happened”, so that the novel “shows that there are many shades of grey along the spectrum that runs from complete integrity to research misconduct”. On the individual level, the result is a struggle for survival, but most of the people involved seem able to find a way out, while manager Sandy Glass even manages to significantly improve his position.

tells the story of Nobel laureate Michael Beard, a science celebrity who, as a young theoretical quantum physicist, building on the photovoltaic work of Albert Einstein and others, made his name with the so-called Beard-Einstein Conflation: a quantum explanation for the emission of electrons, suggesting new ways of harvesting energy from sunlight But all that is long ago and Beard has now entered the emerging field of big applied solar energy research, attracting large amounts of funding as the Scientific Director of the newly established . The idea is to use chaos theory and quantum photovoltaics for optimising the production of wind and solar energy, as a key contribution to mitigating the emerging global impact of climate change. But from the very beginning of the novel it is clear that Beard no longer is the devoted young researcher he once was. Rather, he has evolved into a spoiled, egocentric and obese opportunist who spends his time on public lectures, hedonism and invitational travels to privileged places (ranging from Italian lakes to Spitsbergen), realising that, due to laziness, boredom and ageing, he has utterly lost track of the physics and mathematics on which the advanced research activities (which he is supposed to lead) ultimately depend.