e d i to ri a l
Student Knowledge: Who Owns It? I
n a simpler world, long, long ago (a few decades, at least), science and technology were regarded as independent enterprises. The goal of science, practiced by the academics, was envisaged as advancing fundamental knowledge, which did not need to be immediately useful and which was openly published. Technology, on the other hand, was a private enterprise in which proprietary solutions to practical problems were sought, and the knowledge gained was protected by either secrecy or intellectual property vehicles, such as patents. These independent worlds were at the heart of a social theory of science espoused by Robert K. Merton of Columbia University in a set of essays published in the 1970s. Science and technology are no longer so sharply separated—if indeed they ever were. Academic and industrial researchers alike possess hybrid motivations for their research, namely basic enlightenment that is meant to solve practical problems immediately. This attitude has become strongly encouraged by governments. The biomedical, pharmaceutical, and information sciences have been especially obvious catalysts for the blurring of the distinction between science and technology; however, long before, even in the infancy of polymer science, there was little delay between new basic knowledge and application. Numerous legal devices exist to provide intellectual property protection. Under the Bayh– Dole Act, universities have taken on more of the trappings of industry by seeking patent protection for even the results of publicly funded research. We are in the midst of a continuing evolution in patent and copyright law, and lawsuits keep an army of attorneys employed. Anyone, it seems today, has recourse for claiming protection for his or her intellectual property. Scientific journals intersect with intellectual property issues at several levels; most are well defined, but troubling problem areas do exist, such as the ownership of the results of students’ research. The traditional relationship between a professor and a student is a collaboration of responsibilities. The professor has the responsibility to challenge and develop the student’s intellectual skills in both depth and breadth and educate the student in related matters like good writing and scientific ethics. The professor’s fund-raising efforts provide the means
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for doing the research and for supporting the student. The student has a responsibility to work hard to fully capture the learning opportunities provided by the professor and, at the end of it all, to turn an education into a successful career. The student and professor publish the results of their research collaboration together. Ideally, no issues of “I own this” and “You own that” exist. This happy partnership can fall victim to disagreements. For example, the professor might think that the student did not deserve coauthorship on a research paper because of an insufficiently profound contribution. The student might think this unfair. Another example: A student who has left the professor’s laboratory with unpublished results in hand may decide to independently submit the work for publication, including the professor as a coauthor or not at all. The professor might think that this unfair or that the work should not be published because it is of inadequate credibility. Manuscripts prepared under such circumstances can (and do) arrive on an editor’s desk, accompanied by complaints from one of the two parties. The editor faces tasks of being both a social and a scientific arbiter, deciding either to return the paper to the corresponding author, saying, “You sort it out first with your student or professor,” or to seek a publication decision on the basis of peer review and scientific merit. No standard, easy answers exist for these issues of intellectual property, short of legalism encroaching on and destroying the professor–student relationship. The best answer is to avoid such problems altogether, by professors having a greater sensitivity to the students’ feelings of intellectual ownership and by both parties agreeing to all aspects of manuscript preparation before the degree is finished. These are lessons well worth learning for professor and student. I do not like to contemplate where the alternatives lead. This Editorial, which was first published on September 1, 2002 (74, 445 A), is being reprinted because the issue keeps coming up.
© 2006 AMERICAN CHEMICAL SOCIETY
