91av

Despite the controversy surrounding animal experiments, we know very
little about how scientists who do research on animals view their work.
Quite simply, no one has asked them. To find out more about how they see
the issues, we interviewed some of them for 91av, in a project
also supported by the Cancer Research Campaign and the Universities Federation
for Animal Welfare. We wanted to find out what they thought about the new
act, about using animals in general, and about the impact of antivivisection
campaigns.

Science is no stranger to controversy. But, as sociologists of science
have pointed out, the controversy that is intrinsic to science has to do
with what it produces – how data are interpreted, for instance. By contrast,
the use of animals in scientific experiments is controversial because of
the way new scientific knowledge is produced. Perhaps this helps to explain
why it attracts public attention: nonscientists think they do not have to
be ‘experts’ to have an opinion on the ethical issues raised by using animals.
As a result, scientists’ work becomes seen as uncertain and open to public
debate.

The Animals (Scientific Procedures) Act of 1986 attempts to reduce the
uncertainties by setting up licensing and inspection procedures. The Home
Office shoulders at least some of the responsibility for facing the moral
dilemmas. At the heart of the act is the attempt to balance the potential
benefits of scientific research against the costs to animals in terms of
pain and suffering. But our investigation shows that even this balancing
act is problematic. The result, we argue, is that neither the scientists
nor the public feel reassured. The balancing of benefit versus suffering
rests on the belief that there are some areas of consensus: that some experiments
are so likely to lead to medical benefits or advances in basic knowledge
that most people would find them justified, while other experiments are
so cruel and of so little scientific worth that hardly anyone would want
to defend them. But between those extremes, the scientists felt it was extremely
difficult – if not impossible – to find a balance. On the one hand, as one
scientist put it, this was because ‘you can never see what the consequences
of a particular area of research or a particular set of experiments will
be in the future’. Another added: ‘It is very difficult to know what experiments
ought to be done because something that might seem unimportant today might
be of crucial importance tomorrow.’

On the other side of the balance, assessing the costs to the animals
is seen as equally difficult. Scientists must attempt to evaluate possible
pain when they apply for their licences. Under the 1986 act, project licences
specify the intensity of pain likely to be suffered by the animals undergoing
those experiments: thus, in 1990, 1789 were assessed as being ‘mild’, 2117
as being ‘moderate’ and 100 of ‘substantial severity’. The law requires
the holder of a licence to kill humanely any animal that is suffering, whether
or not it affects the experiment.

But few scientists have much, if any, training in animal husbandry or
behaviour, and most are not well equipped to assess if an animal is suffering:
‘Ninety-nine per cent of scientists don’t know anything about whether an
animal is feeling pain or not,’ said one interviewee. Assessing pain is
difficult even for skilled observers, but it is particularly difficult in
those species that humans are less familiar with. One scientist felt that,
while he would work with mice, he would draw the line at dogs or cats: partly,
he said, because ‘it’s harder for me to imagine mouse pain than dog pain’.
Everyone agreed that objective criteria by which to assess suffering are
elusive. So scientists must use other means of making decisions: ‘We don’t
actually have a way of measuring pain,’ said one. ‘If a certain procedure
needs to be carried out, all we can do is stick to the rules, and we do.’
‘Sticking to the rules’ was to be a common response to the dilemmas arising
when scientists tried to put the act into practice.

The 1986 act attempts to deal with this uncertainty surrounding the
trade-off between cost and benefit by creating tiers of responsibility.
The person in charge of the animal’s welfare from day to day is not the
scientist but the animal technician. A ‘named’ vet forms another layer of
responsibility. But scientists are responsible under particular project
licences when animals are involved in experiments. One scientist made this
problem clear: ‘When I start an experiment, that animal is my responsibility
but, theoretically, it is still the animal technician’s responsibility.
Where does the responsibility end? Where does it start? If we bring the
animals into our laboratory, does that mean that we are entirely responsible
for them? Or does someone else have the right to say, ‘that is wrong’? The
possibility for confusion under the act upsets people because they do not
know where they stand.’

Scientists also experience uncertainty in their relationships with the
Home Office inspectors – ‘a funny relationship because they are half police,
half advisers’, said one. Perhaps as a result of that ‘funny’ relationship,
different scientists emphasised different, and sometimes contradictory,
points about inspectors. So, for example, one scientist felt that ‘we have
a very good Home Office inspector . . . he certainly keeps us on our toes
. . . he’s on the ball, he knows what he’s doing, he knows what he’s looking
for’. Yet a colleague in the same unit felt that the inspector ‘applied
the letter of the law without actually considering the animals very much’.
Similarly, three scientists from another laboratory gave slightly divergent
views: ‘We’ve always had very good advisers. We’ve always had a very good
rapport,’ said one. Another said: ‘We have quite close contact with our
inspector. He always says that as long as we point out things to him and
ask questions he will be happy. He has quite a good understanding of the
science.’ But a third researcher in the group emphasised the lack of knowledge
of the inspectors, explaining that they had to train one about sheep husbandry.

Self-policing scientists?

Several interviewees stressed the importance of scientists policing
themselves, as opposed to being controlled by legislation: ‘I don’t think
that modifying the law would get rid of those people (doing bad experiments).
It would have to be done within an institute or a university department
or by peer review,’ said one. The head of one laboratory told us that he
regularly carried out spot checks; he was ‘very concerned that I personally
train everybody who gets a licence on the project and I don’t allow them
to do things on their own until I am absolutely satisfied that they are
competent to do so’. But one young researcher said: ‘There’s no measure
of competence really . . . it’s all done on trust. They (the Home Office)
trust the people who’ve had a licence for 20 years to know what they’re
doing and to supervise people like me who are new licensees. For a year
I had to be supervised, then I’m just sort of deemed to be competent.’

The issue of competence is not only relevant to young researchers: experienced
scientists often want to use new techniques. Complaining that the inspectors
had had little opportunity to see what they were doing, one scientist explained
that his licence covered procedures that he had never done before, yet he
could ‘wade in with a hangover on a Monday morning’ and carry them out.

Several scientists were clearly worried about the issue of postgraduate
training, feeling that using animals for research for a PhD was less justified
than research ‘for the definite benefit of mankind’. One researcher pointed
to the uncertainties that arise when policing is lacking: ‘I’ve had very
little contact with anyone coming and checking that my work is done well
or properly under the act,’ said one: ‘This tends to breed complacency;
you don’t know where you stand.’

Change for the better?

So despite the best intentions, the act seems to have done little to
reduce the uncertainty surrounding decision making in animal experimentation.
Has it made any difference to the experimental procedures that scientists
use on animals? Nearly all thought that the act had increased awareness
of the ethical issues among researchers, and that this was a good thing.
But while some scientists felt that a great deal had changed for the animals
as a result of the new act, others felt nothing had changed. One said, for
example, that under the old act people used to ‘do very cruel things (for
the sake of it). Nowadays, the focus is on theoretical experimentation’.
Against this, others argued that there has been no change to procedures
following the new act, because everything was done properly before. ‘When
I say we haven’t changed our practice,’ said one scientist, ‘I jolly well
know we were doing things correctly before the new act. But I think it has
provided a degree of recognition that we are doing what we ought to be doing.
That wasn’t there before.’

Doing things correctly clearly meant adhering to the law (‘sticking
to the rules’). One researcher was particularly forthright: ‘I’m now scared
to death of doing anything because we’ve got inspectors coming round, but
I don’t think it’s improved animal welfare one iota.’

This clear concern among scientists to carry out the letter of the law
ironically highlights a deeper reason underlying public concern about animal
experiments. Sociologists interested in how the public view science argue
that people are often suspicious of scientific statements because of the
way they are presented. Various research projects funded by the Economic
and Social Research Council have found that nonscientists take for granted
uncertainty and unpredictability as part and parcel of ordinary social life.
They tend to respond sceptically to scientific knowledge that does not admit,
for example, that things could have turned out differently, that the assumptions
underlying particular experiments could be incorrect, or that there are
difficulties in putting theory into practice in the real, unpredictable
world. The public begins to smell a rat when scientists justify what they
do by taking refuge in the law – when, for instance, scientists working
with animals stick rigidly to legal or procedural definitions about what
constitutes pain and suffering, or the benefits of research, or the policing
of scientific practice. It is not simply that the public questions the provisions
of the act; nonscientists also question the way such measures are presented
– as legally and procedurally watertight, and so not a matter for public
debate. So it is not surprising that the public ‘consider scientists and
government to be in cahoots and to be trying to mislead them’, as one scientist
put it.

Our interviews show that scientists accept the idea of carrying out
the balancing act demanded by the law – the quantification of cost to animals
versus benefit to people. Yet our interviews also reflect the uncertainties
that scientists experience as they try to achieve this. Repeatedly scientists
noted the difficulties confronting them as they try to measure pain or benefits
or ensure effective self-policing and enforcement of regulations.

Studies such as ours suggest that if we wish to increase the possibility
of dialogue between scientists and the public, it is important that scientists
should openly discuss the uncertainties built into the research process.
Paradoxically, this might make what scientists say in defence of animal
experiments far more convincing. For it would show that, after all, scientists
are human too.

Lynda Birke is a biologist who lectures in the Department of Continuing
Education at the University of Warwick. Mike Michael is lecturer in the
Centre for Science Studies and Science Policy in the School of Independent
Studies at Lancaster University.

* * *

1: Ways of taking the scientific pulse

We chose to use interviews, rather than questionnaires, to allow us
to explore scientists’ ideas in depth, although with a relatively small
sample. Half of the research units approached by 91av agreed to
participate. We interviewed at least three people in each institution; no
one in the participating units refused to take part. The 43 scientists we
interviewed may not be representative of all scientists using animals: those
who did not reply may have different views, for example. Nevertheless, our
sample covered a wide range, from senior scientists to people just beginning
their research for a PhD as well as technicians. We restricted the interviews
to scientists working in basic biological or medical research (rather than
those working in commercial or industrial laboratories) but covering a range
of subjects, from immunology and biochemistry to animal behaviour and physiology.
All the interviews were confidential.

* * *

2: Animals in the laboratory: legislation in a nutshell

The animals (Scientific Procedures) Act became law in 1986. It requires
that premises are licensed and that all individuals using animals have personal
licences. In addition, scientists have to obtain a project licence specifying
in some detail what they intend to do, what the possible benefits of the
research might be, and the anticipated extent of any pain or suffering caused
to the animal. Previous legislation (the 1876 Cruelty to Animals Act) did
not require specific project licences.

The act is administered by the Home Office through its 21 inspectors,
who liaise with scientists when they apply for their project licences, and
who try to ensure that licencees comply with the law and with any conditions
imposed in their licences.

Another change wrought by the new act is that the conditions in which
the animals are kept are tightly controlled. Animal houses must maintain
specified levels of humidity and specified air changes per day, for example.
The act also sets up layers of responsibility, with a specific, named laboratory
technician and vet in charge of day-to-day care and welfare.

When the original act was passed in 1876, few animals were used in research;
the number grew considerably in this century, and new uses for animals in
experiments were developed. The Littlewood committee reviewed the act in
1963 – indicating, inevitably, some of the ways in which it needed updating.
But nothing more happened until 1979, when two private members’ bills came
before Parliament, both of which succeeded in getting through at least the
initial stages of parliamentary procedure. The first, presented by Lord
Halsbury, was backed by the scientific community; the second, proposed by
Peter Fry, was drafted in consultation with the RSPCA. Neither succeeded,
although both ensured that the subject was on the political agenda. Parliament
finally amended the law in 1986.

None of the scientists we interviewed men-tioned the earlier attempts
to change the law; most felt that the government had responded to public
pressure and to anti-vivisectionist campaigns in the early 1980s.

* * *

3: Where animal researchers draw the line

The scientists we interviewed were very aware of the difficulties of
weighing up whether a particular experiment or procedure was ethical. Nearly
all the scientists we interviewed felt that they would draw the line somewhere;
this may mean, for example, that there are techniques they would not be
happy to use, or that there are some species they would not readily use.

Several specifically mentioned primates, or dogs and cats. One researcher,
for instance, explained to us that it would ‘need a different set of justifications
to do a certain experiment on a primate than I would on a rat. I am not
saying that I would never have such a justification but the cost benefit
analysis would not be exactly the same. The cost to the animal would be
higher and therefore the benefit has to be greater.’

Several stressed that they ‘only’ used rats or mice in their laboratory
– as one researcher pointed out: ‘Everybody has this view of cuddly animals
– probably very few people would object to people experimenting on rats.’
At least one of the scientists emphasised that this stance was hypocritical,
not only in the public perceptions of rats and mice as being less ‘cuddly’,
but also in the scientists’ own preferences. One scientist said: ‘I don’t
think I could work on cats or dogs, but that is me being hypocritical –
I can work on rats, but not on cats or dogs.’

A few researchers mentioned their dislike of using strains of animals
that were genetically ‘sick’ – that is, bred to have some sort of defect,
such as an inefficient immune system, or partial paralysis. One scientist,
for example, felt that he would be ‘a bit unhappy about that’ unless there
was ‘a really good reason’ for maintaining such defective animals.

Others drew the line at certain techniques that they would prefer not
to do. One researcher, for example, felt unhappy about withdrawing fluid
from the brain or spinal cord (cerebrospinal fluid); it would, he said,
give him ‘the creeps’ and make him ‘cringe’. Others mentioned the practice
(used more extensively outside Britain) of giving injections into the orbital
vein, adjacent to the eye. Some scientists described how they read about
new techniques, and perhaps tried them once, but then took them no further
because they disapproved of the amount of suffering caused.

In drawing the line at particular kinds of techniques, these scientists
were acknowledging that some procedures are used – by others – that might
give cause for public disquiet. In this vein, one scientist condemned the
use of animals in research ‘just to satisfy curiosity’. Another was repelled
by ‘any drugs that prevent an animal from physically responding to whatever
is done with it, yet leave it conscious of its environment – they are horror
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One area of animal usage in research that concerned many of the scientists
was the testing of cosmetics. Happy to justify the use of animals in pure
or medical research, they singled out their use in cosmetics testing as
unjustifiable, or even ‘trivial’. For some, this was a personal issue: ‘I
am very against testing cosmetics and things on animals,’ said one. Others
talked about such tests as having little to do with medical research: ‘we’ve
got to safeguard against trivial experiments . . . the cosmetics industry
for instance gets experimentation a bad name.’ You have to ask, questioned
another researcher, ‘when enough is enough, when the only thing driving
the exercise is market forces and not the advancement of some medical need.
This is nothing to do with research’. One scientist went further: ‘I don’t
think this testing has a significant benefit to the human race.’