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In January 2008, the journal and knowledge environment Science 's STKE was renamed Science Signaling , and primary research papers were first published later that year. To mark this anniversary, Thorp and Yaffe reflect on the importance of basic research to scientific progress.

The new year 2023 arrives with promising developments in fusion research. In December, scientists at the US National Ignition Facility (NIF) focused 2.05 megajoules of laser light onto a capsule of fusion fuel and produced 3.15 megajoules of energy. This was the first laser-driven fusion demonstration in which the reaction produced more energy than the laser light used to start it—a goal set for NIF at its founding. Massachusetts Institute of Technology physicist Anne White, who was not involved in the work, described it to Science as “a major breakthrough.” After a year of ups and downs in science policy and research, this was the kind of exciting event needed to propel scientists into the promises of 2023.

In a speech at Rice University in September 1962, US President John F. Kennedy announced plans for human spaceflight to the Moon by saying, “We choose to go to the Moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard.” These words marked a time when trust in and respect for science were high, and when big questions about the workings of nature were both humbling and inspiring. And although the goals of NASA’s Apollo program were not principally to do science, it inspired a generation of scientists. The ensuing years have seen this enthusiasm decline because of failings within as well as outside the world of science, as science is often ridiculed whenever findings lead to political debates. But the successful launch of a remarkable new space telescope this year has rekindled a sense of awe and wonder at the magnificence of the Universe and the thrill of human achievement.

On 10 July, Science published the Report “Proton transport enabled by a field-induced metallic state in a semiconductor heterostructure” by Y. Wu et al. ([ 1 ][1]). After publication, we received emails from two independent sources alleging that figures S9B and S10 in this paper appeared to be manipulated copies of figures previously published by the same corresponding author, Bin Zhu, in two papers ([ 2 ][2], [ 3 ][3]) that reported different fuel cell compositions. The allegations were subsequently posted to PubPeer ([ 4 ][4]). While we await clarification from investigations by the authors' institutions, we are notifying readers of our concern about the paper's data integrity. 1. [↵][5]1. Y. Wu et al ., Science 369, 184 (2020). [OpenUrl][6][Abstract/FREE Full Text][7] 2. [↵][8]1. L. Liu et al ., Int. J. Hydrogen Energ. 43, 12739 (2018). [OpenUrl][9] 3. [↵][10]1. R. Xu et al ., Int. J. Hydrogen Energ. 42, 17495 (2017). [OpenUrl][11] 4. [↵][12]PubPeer, “Comments on ‘Proton transport enabled by a field-induced metallic state in a semiconductor heterostructure,’ Science (2020)”; . [1]: #ref-1 [2]: #ref-2 [3]: #ref-3 [4]: #ref-4 [5]: #xref-ref-1-1 "View reference 1 in text" [6]: {openurl}?query=rft.jtitle%253DScience%26rft.stitle%253DScience%26rft.aulast%253DWu%26rft.auinit1%253DY.%26rft.volume%253D369%26rft.issue%253D6500%26rft.spage%253D184%26rft.epage%253D188%26rft.atitle%253DProton%2Btransport%2Benabled%2Bby%2Ba%2Bfield-induced%2Bmetallic%2Bstate%2Bin%2Ba%2Bsemiconductor%2Bheterostructure%26rft_id%253Dinfo%253Adoi%252F10.1126%252Fscience.aaz9139%26rft_id%253Dinfo%253Apmid%252F32646999%26rft.genre%253Darticle%26rft_val_fmt%253Dinfo%253Aofi%252Ffmt%253Akev%253Amtx%253Ajournal%26ctx_ver%253DZ39.88-2004%26url_ver%253DZ39.88-2004%26url_ctx_fmt%253Dinfo%253Aofi%252Ffmt%253Akev%253Amtx%253Actx [7]: /lookup/ijlink/YTozOntzOjQ6InBhdGgiO3M6MTQ6Ii9sb29rdXAvaWpsaW5rIjtzOjU6InF1ZXJ5IjthOjQ6e3M6ODoibGlua1R5cGUiO3M6NDoiQUJTVCI7czoxMToiam91cm5hbENvZGUiO3M6Mzoic2NpIjtzOjU6InJlc2lkIjtzOjEyOiIzNjkvNjUwMC8xODQiO3M6NDoiYXRvbSI7czoyNToiL3NjaS8zNjkvNjUwOC8xMTcxLjEuYXRvbSI7fXM6ODoiZnJhZ21lbnQiO3M6MDoiIjt9 [8]: #xref-ref-2-1 "View reference 2 in text" [9]: {openurl}?query=rft.jtitle%253DInt.%2BJ.%2BHydrogen%2BEnerg.%26rft.volume%253D43%26rft.spage%253D12739%26rft.genre%253Darticle%26rft_val_fmt%253Dinfo%253Aofi%252Ffmt%253Akev%253Amtx%253Ajournal%26ctx_ver%253DZ39.88-2004%26url_ver%253DZ39.88-2004%26url_ctx_fmt%253Dinfo%253Aofi%252Ffmt%253Akev%253Amtx%253Actx [10]: #xref-ref-3-1 "View reference 3 in text" [11]: {openurl}?query=rft.jtitle%253DInt.%2BJ.%2BHydrogen%2BEnerg.%26rft.volume%253D42%26rft.spage%253D17495%26rft.genre%253Darticle%26rft_val_fmt%253Dinfo%253Aofi%252Ffmt%253Akev%253Amtx%253Ajournal%26ctx_ver%253DZ39.88-2004%26url_ver%253DZ39.88-2004%26url_ctx_fmt%253Dinfo%253Aofi%252Ffmt%253Akev%253Amtx%253Actx [12]: #xref-ref-4-1 "View reference 4 in text"

Anthony Fauci—“Tony” to friends, colleagues, and many journalists—has never backed down from controversy. During the worst of the AIDS crisis, when HIV infection was a death sentence, he was targeted by protestors frustrated by the US government’s sluggish response. Instead of ignoring their complaints, Fauci listened, acted, and eventually came to be seen as an ally to activists, all the while battling charlatans who tried to insist that HIV didn’t cause AIDS. When the COVID-19 pandemic came along, the long-time director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases was a natural choice to help lead the country’s response, and he soon became one of the most recognizable physician-scientists in the world. Fauci recently announced that he would end his time in the federal government in December 2022. He sat down with me to talk about the challenges facing science and his plans for the future. The full transcript of our interview, which is filled with valuable insights into science policy and communication, is posted on the Editor’s Blog, but I wanted to share a few highlights here.

The recent firing of Maitland Jones Jr. by New York University (NYU) has captured the attention of many quarters in higher education and science in the United States. Jones, a celebrated organic chemistry professor at Princeton University, who retired and became a contract professor at NYU, was dismissed after some of his students complained about their grades and the challenging level of the material in a large introductory class on organic chemistry. Even though the students never asked for Jones to be fired, NYU didn’t renew his 1-year contract and sent him on his way. This reaction is illustrative of the problem of intro science, particularly at highly selective colleges: Universities would rather wash their hands of such matters than deal with all of the thorny issues revealed by stories like this. Until they do, many students will leave the courses disappointed and mistrustful of science, just at the time that science needs their support.

High-profile examples of scientific fraud continue to plague research. Recently, Science published two news stories on alleged image manipulation in Alzheimer’s research and unreliable data in an ecology study, sadly showing that the problem persists. Each case involved back and forth among the journal, authors, and institutions to correct the scientific record. Journalists and advocates for research integrity (including courageous whistleblowers) are understandably frustrated about how long it takes to retract papers or at least to post editorial expressions of concern. It’s time to devise a more efficient solution.

In March, Science published a news story by Jeffrey Mervis that chronicled five cases of individuals, mostly Chinese or of Chinese descent, whose research careers were disrupted or ended by personnel actions taken by the US National Institutes of Health (NIH). As I wrote in an accompanying editorial, these moves have eroded trust in the NIH and chilled important collaborations with China. The failure of the NIH to adequately explain and document publicly the reasons behind these actions has allowed the scientific community to assume the worst.

An institution that has long influenced academia in the United States has lost credibility. The College Board—a nonprofit organization that oversees the development of Advanced Placement (AP) precollege courses and the administration of the SAT exam that is used in college admissions—has been caught in an outright lie about its practices, raising questions about its vulnerability to political pressures. With the integrity of the College Board now in question, academia must decide whether it can be trusted.

Increasingly hot topics in both science and journalism are diversifying the practitioners of these professions and examining what is meant by “objectivity” in this improved world. Bringing wider experiences and perspectives to the laboratory or the newsroom improves outputs, better serving the public. As both professions become more enriched with varied backgrounds and views, are the old ideas of objectivity outdated? I sat down with Amna Nawaz, the new co-anchor of Public Broadcasting Service’s NewsHour (in the United States), who shared how she brings her “whole self” to her work. We explored what this means and the parallels in science.

Science is a social process. Discoveries—even by supposed “lone” geniuses—do not become knowledge until the findings are shared with the scientific community, to be vetted, challenged, and expanded on. Since the birth of the digital age, this discourse has become much more apparent, as communication outlets such as social media, blogs, and websites such as PubPeer and Retraction Watch allow the scientific community to discuss new findings. Further, the availability of greater amounts of data that support findings allows peers to redo key analyses to confirm or report discrepancies. This week, Science is announcing two changes—one to accelerate the conversation about papers and another to ease deposition of supporting data—that will facilitate the evaluation of research findings across the wide scientific enterprise.

America is reeling from yet another devastating spate of mass shootings. Last month, in the span of 10 days, shooters targeted a Taiwanese church in California, a grocery store in a Black neighborhood in New York, and an elementary school in Texas. Although opponents of sensible gun control—the kind that prevails throughout most of the civilized world—continue to put the spotlight on the shooters’ motivations or unstable mental states, these are cynical diversions from the one obvious truth: The common thread in all of the country’s revolting mass shootings is the absurdly easy access to guns. The science is clear: Restrictions work, and it’s likely that even more limitations would save thousands of lives. So why not take the laws much further, as other countries have done? The alternative is painfully obvious—living with more and more senseless carnage, courtesy of the National Rifle Association and their well-funded political lackeys.

The Biden administration is sheepishly waving a checkered flag on the pandemic. If you look closely, you can see its members cringing as they do so. Chief Medical Advisor Anthony Fauci told the PBS Newshour that the United States was “out of the pandemic phase” and then walked it back, saying he meant that the “acute component” of the pandemic phase was over. President Biden attended the likely superspreading White House Correspondents’ Dinner last weekend but skipped cocktails and the meal, opting to just give his talk. Fauci avoided the whole affair. Meanwhile, Vice President Harris continued to isolate after her positive COVID-19 test, and many members of Congress and the administration announced positive test results as well. All of this happened while the White House allowed a renegade federal judge in Florida (where else?) to end the nationwide mask mandate without much of a fight. These mixed messages have been emanating from the administration for months now, and although those with resources have tools to manage COVID-19, care needs to be taken that those without such means are not forgotten.

It wasn’t that long ago when scientific collaboration between the United States and China was enthusiastically encouraged as a means to accomplish the best science. American universities established campuses in China, set up exchange programs for students and trainees, and hired highly productive Chinese researchers. That all changed in 2018, when then-President Trump launched the China Initiative to rid US academia of Chinese spies. As reporter Jeffrey Mervis describes in this issue of Science , the National Institutes of Health (NIH)—the largest federal funder of biomedical research—vigorously responded to this charge. The agency’s allegations and investigations have not only destroyed careers but also eroded trust in the agency and federal government across the scientific community.

Failure to diversify the United States scientific workforce has elicited statements and actions from federal funding agencies that are scrambling to correct inequities. Only last week, a new study showed that Black scientists are underrepresented among principal investigators who are funded by the National Institutes of Health (NIH) (at 1.8%). This is unacceptable. Science is a social endeavor where research only becomes knowledge when validated by the scientific community. A more diverse scientific community can average out individual biases, leading to more robust consensus. Meanwhile, conservative states are passing laws prohibiting higher education programs in diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI). This is creating a collision course between state laws and federal funding policies and programs.

After 2 years in Washington, DC, Alondra Nelson is returning to Princeton. A highly decorated sociologist who has written and studied extensively on the intersection of genetics and race, she was appointed by President Joe Biden as deputy director for science and society in the Office of Science and Technology Policy (OSTP) in 2021. The following year, when Eric Lander was removed as the head of that office, Nelson stepped in as its interim director until Arati Prabhakar was named permanent director 8 months later. I recently spoke with Nelson, about a range of issues, from scientific publishing to artificial intelligence. She clearly leaves behind a legacy of science policy-making that encourages equity.

The ranking of universities and colleges at the national and global level is a well-known dubious practice. Flawed methodologies generate distorted and inaccurate profiles of these institutions. Yet, rankings have remained a popular and trusted measure of “the best” by the public. U.S. News & World Report has long had a stranglehold on US higher education. Using algorithms that process various measurements such as standardized test scores, alumni giving, and opinion surveys, it publishes annual ranked lists of undergraduate colleges as well as graduate, business, law, and medical schools. For too long, parents, politicians, and trustees have treated these lists with more importance than they deserve. That may be ending, as prestigious law and medical schools have started to walk away from this “evaluation.”

A pair of historians explain how market fundamentalism leads to science denial

In less than 2 months, the artificial intelligence (AI) program ChatGPT has become a cultural sensation. It is freely accessible through a web portal created by the tool’s developer, OpenAI. The program—which automatically creates text based on written prompts—is so popular that it’s likely to be “at capacity right now” if you attempt to use it. When you do get through, ChatGPT provides endless entertainment. I asked it to rewrite the first scene of the classic American play Death of a Salesman , but to feature Princess Elsa from the animated movie Frozen as the main character instead of Willy Loman. The output was an amusing conversation in which Elsa—who has come home from a tough day of selling—is told by her son Happy, “Come on, Mom. You’re Elsa from Frozen . You have ice powers and you’re a queen. You’re unstoppable.” Mash-ups like this are certainly fun, but there are serious implications for generative AI programs like ChatGPT in science and academia.

The horrific invasion of Ukraine by Russia has many devastating effects. The most immediate are on the people of Ukraine, but the long-term implications for the entire planet are enormous. For science, the disruption to international collaboration must be addressed and we must give our strongest support to Ukrainian scientists, as outlined by Marcia McNutt and John Hildebrand in a recent Science editorial. But for climate change, the effects may be the greatest. If we want a positive energy future for a healthier climate, the West must start by recasting foreign policy with climate and energy issues at the forefront. That can only succeed if nations strengthen the commitment to settle differences with diplomacy, not war. The only truly life-sustaining climate will be one accompanied by international peace.

Long before the pandemic, scientists began flocking to social media, sharing ideas, thoughts, and information. But it is undeniable that the pandemic has boosted the visibility and engagement of scientists on many platforms, especially Twitter. Has this been good or bad for science? The answer is both.

The first editorial of the year is generally an invitation to look forward. Often, we announce new initiatives at the Science family of journals or changes to our policies. This year, I want to look forward in a different way—by looking back. Science has a history that includes shame in addition to accomplishment. In 2021, we began to explore and acknowledge some of that regretful past, and we’ll continue this examination in 2022.

The first protein structures were determined by x-ray crystallography in 1957 by John C. Kendrew and Max F. Perutz. As a bioinorganic chemist, I was delighted that the structures were myoglobin and hemoglobin, both heme proteins with big, beautiful iron atoms. It must have been an extraordinary experience to stare at a physical model of the structures and see something that had previously only been imagined. Not long afterward, Christian B. Anfinsen Jr. proposed that the structure of a protein was thermodynamically stable. It seemed possible that the three-dimensional structure of a protein could be predicted based on the sequence of its amino acids. This “protein-folding problem,” as it came to be known, baffled scientists until this year, when the papers we’ve deemed the 2021 Breakthrough of the Year were published.

Why has President Biden’s administration been staggering when it comes to key scientific appointments? Most noticeably, there has been a failure to confirm a new director of the National Institutes of Health (NIH) since Francis Collins stepped down a year ago. It took nearly a year to nominate the Commissioner of the Food and Drug Administration (FDA), Robert Califf. And regrettably, Biden began his presidency with the nomination of geneticist Eric Lander as the first science adviser to the president and director of the White House Office of Science and Technology Policy (OSTP). A year later, Lander resigned in disgrace because of abusive behavior toward staff. Although recent appointments provide some confidence [including Monica Bertagnolli as director of the National Cancer Institute (NCI), Joni Rutter as director of the National Center for Advancing Translational Sciences, and Arati Prabhakar as the new director of OSTP], the most high-profile biomedical job in the United States—NIH director—remains unfilled.

This week’s issue on the 75th anniversary of the transistor describes a triumph of both basic and applied science. What started out as studies on the fundamental physics of silicon led to the device that makes it possible to read this article online. The coinventor of the transistor, William Shockley, who along with John Bardeen and Walter Brattain won the 1956 Nobel Prize in Physics, is correctly recognized as a primary architect of the computer age. Gordon Moore (cofounder of Intel Corporation) famously said that Shockley put the silicon in “Silicon Valley.” Appallingly, Shockley devoted the latter part of his life to promoting racist views, arguing that higher IQs among Blacks were correlated with higher extents of Caucasian ancestry, and advocating for voluntary sterilization of Black women. At the time, Science did not condemn Shockley for what he was: a charlatan who used his scientific credentials to advance racist ideology.

When the advocacy group America’s Frontline Doctors appeared on the steps of the United States Supreme Court in 2020, falsely stating that hydroxychloroquine was a cure for COVID-19, their pronouncement was virally shared by right-wing media and soundly debunked by medical academicians. A year later, one of these frontliners, Joseph Ladapo, became the surgeon general of Florida and a faculty member at the University of Florida College of Medicine. He has continued to spread dangerous misinformation about COVID-19 while his academic colleagues are shamefully silent.

For the past 18 months, communicating the findings of science to the world has hit what sometimes seems like an all-time low. Nevermind the years of failure in convincing much of the public about climate change; the pandemic has revealed shocking ineptness by the scientific establishment at conveying messages about masks, vaccination, or the dangers of consuming horse drugs and aquarium cleaners—even in the face of a rising death toll from COVID-19. One puzzling element of this crisis is how social media has been skillfully exploited by antiscience forces. Given all of this, what is the right move for science communication as it relates to social media? Unfriend Facebook or beat it at its own game?

The United States has an insatiable desire for technological advancement but is governed by founding documents that are completely unsuited for science and technology. This incongruity has manifested in recent disastrous actions by the US Supreme Court on guns, abortion, and climate. The decisions suggest that the battle is being won by the portion of America who—while lionizing the past and clinging to the infallibility of words written in the late 18th century—can’t put down their cell phones. Reactionary posts on social media wouldn’t get very far without a hundred years of technical advances—and massive amounts of power to recharge mobile device batteries and run the server farms that support the digital world. Because the disconnect between aspects of modern life and the framing of the country’s governance appears inconsequential to the conservative majority of justices in the US Supreme Court, it is vital that the scientific community advocate a political and societal landscape in which compassion and adaptability attend technological progress.

The cultural wars raging across the United States have sadly found their way into the world of science. Some university science faculty and administrators are resistant to making changes that would allow more students from underrepresented groups to participate and thrive in the sciences. The rationale for this opposition is often that “accommodating” legitimate social and pedagogical needs of marginalized groups will lower the standards of mastery and excellence in these fields. But this concern is just a crutch that protects faculty and institutions from having to do the work of correcting social injustices in higher education.

Recent weeks have seen numerous calls for more investment in research and development (R&D) in the United States. This is understandable with a new administration that is friendlier to science and with The Endless Frontier Act—a measure that could double the budget of the National Science Foundation in 5 years—under consideration in Congress. Proponents of the bill are heralding its potential to enhance America's competitiveness: A large part of the new money would go for “use-inspired” basic research aimed at economic growth. Although the new money for science would be long overdue, and there are provisions in the bill to try to extend its geographical benefit, care must be taken to ensure that funds are distributed more equitably than in the past. If science in the United States is truly to be an endless frontier, the benefits must extend equitably to all. No one has had a better front row seat for efforts in the United States to boost competitiveness than Deborah Wince-Smith, the president and chief executive officer of the Council on Competitiveness, an eclectic group of leaders from business, academia, organized labor, and national laboratories. The council is one of a very small number of bodies that bring together a wide political spectrum on common interests. It has succeeded for 35 years because of the passion and deep knowledge that Wince-Smith brings to her leadership. I asked her how things had changed in the past 35 years. “When the council was formed, people thought what corporate America does is good for America,” she said, “But we've learned during this period with the demise of many of our manufacturing centers, that individual Americans in regions throughout our country have not been part of the prosperity game that's at the heart of who we are as a nation.” We know that simply getting more research funding to these regions is not the whole answer. Of the top 30 universities in R&D spending, 11 are responsible for $11.3 billion in funding in the thriving coastal cities of New York, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Boston, Seattle, and San Diego. But the other 19 members of this group, which account for $20 billion in spending, include cities and states in regions that have not benefited from the economic resurgence of the coastal hubs. There are plenty of great and well-funded scientists in these areas, but nowhere near an equal share of fast-growing and innovative companies. In addition to poor geographic distribution, the number of women and people of color who are participating in the American innovation economy is dismal. In another editorial in this issue, Sangeeta Bhatia, Nancy Hopkins, and Susan Hockfield note that only 2.7% of venture capital goes to women-founded companies—and the statistics for people of color are even worse. Over the years, American science policy has been shaped by two canonical reports: Science: The Endless Frontier (1945) and Rising Above the Gathering Storm (2005). Both were patriotic jeremiads proclaiming that American leadership in science and technology would lead to American strength in economic and foreign policy. Neither dealt explicitly with systemic sexism and racism in science or the poor geographic distribution of opportunity. Rising Above the Gathering Storm addressed failures in science education. But it did not address how the prevention of women and people of color from earning science degrees and advancing in their fields affected American competitiveness. And that is what sets apart a recent report by the Council on Competitiveness, Competing in the Next Economy , which explicitly calls for widening the innovation economy in the United States to include more people and places. “We need to think of this in a new way and not be crippled by the old language of industrial policy that is really hurting us,” Wince-Smith said. “We can't say we are a great nation when we have so many parts of our country and so many citizens that are not participating in the opportunities.” In other words, although China and Europe are formidable scientific competitors of the United States, achieving true competitiveness as a nation starts at home. As the United States plans for another welcome surge of research funding, it must work ever harder to expand the reach of this investment.

COVID-19 will be remembered for many things, including the pandemic that changed science communication. Much of the effect was positive. Outstanding epidemiologists, virologists, and public health experts became household names as they talked about the pandemic through mainstream media and social platforms. In the rapidly evolving situation, hearing directly from the scientific community was more important than ever. But former president Donald Trump and former vice president Mike Pence did enormous damage in the United States by appointing themselves scientists, logisticians, and chief economists and taking control of the information flow. The vaccine arrived, despite all the bungling, but in the meantime, many lives could have been saved had messages about dangers, challenges, and solutions come through more clearly. We still seem to be learning. Although the Biden administration appears to have a firmer grip on the crisis, it now faces a new surge of infections brought on by the variants and an increase in the number of states loosening restrictions. How can science be better communicated in the future, given what we have seen during the pandemic? Viewers of cable news will easily recognize Juliette Kayyem, a fixture on CNN who also appears occasionally on other networks as a national security analyst. She was assistant secretary of Homeland Security in the Obama administration and is now the Belfer Senior Lecturer in International Security at Harvard's Kennedy School of Government (I was a consultant for a company run by her brother many years ago, but that business relationship has long since ended). Early in the pandemic, Kayyem was one of the first voices assuring the public that the supply chain would hold up and that there was no reason to raid the grocery stores for toilet paper and hand sanitizer. [I asked her what scientists could do better in the future][1]. The main message: Stay in their lane. Kayyem consumes health intelligence the same way she consumes foreign intelligence or climate intelligence and then uses it to create a message for politicians and the public. She thinks scientists did not do enough to acknowledge the economic devastation that was ushered in by shutting down the economy, which left an opening for the anti-lockdown voices to fight back. She believes scientists could have offered more hope along with the warnings. And she believes that the extreme voices on cable news and social media distracted scientists from seeing that most of the American public could understand the nuances of the situation better than they gave them credit for. As for the early garbling of the mask message, she feels that some science experts ventured too far into logistics, rather than sticking to what they know. “They all say they didn't want to promote masks initially because there wasn't sufficient supply,” she said. “That's not their call.” She was also critical of what she saw as a panic over vaccine supply. “Make us the vaccine,” she said, “but once you start getting into logistics and supply chain and the use of the Defense Production Act and all that, that's not your lane.” As we approach 200 million shots in 100 days, Kayyem's admonition rings true. In other words, just as we were lamenting the rise of armchair epidemiologists, some scientists inadvertently became armchair logisticians. Though the public discussions on Twitter were sometimes exploited by malicious forces, Kayyem believes that overall, it is good for scientists to join the debate on social media, [a point I made in an editorial earlier this year][2]. She was also very complimentary of the scientists who became household names on social media and cable news, but she cautioned that “rockstar status can make you think that everyone wants your opinion on everything.” One of those scientists who became well known in the pandemic, Georgetown University virologist Angela Rasmussen, agrees that some ventured too far afield. “While I can understand the temptation to be thought of as a leading pandemic Public Thinker,” she says, “I remind myself that this isn't the Renaissance and none of us are Leonardo da Vinci.” These are important admonitions, but it is also salient to remember that the headwinds caused by President Trump were intense. We can only hope that in the next pandemic, the messages will have smoother sailing. [1]: https://blogs.sciencemag.org/editors-blog/2021/04/15/a-conversation-with-juliette-kayyem/ [2]: https://science.sciencemag.org/content/371/6526/213

A new federal agency—approved last month by the United States Congress—is already off to a rocky start. The Advanced Research Projects Agency for Health (ARPA-H), proposed by President Biden in 2021, aims to tackle the most intractable biomedical problems by funding innovative, high-risk, high-reward research and swiftly turning discoveries into treatments and cures. But Congress gave the agency a much smaller budget than sought by the administration—$ 1 billion over 3 years, a fraction of the $6.5 billion requested. And as happens whenever there is new money and a new federal agency, a political scrum has erupted over who should control ARPA-H. It is now expected to answer to both the National Institutes of Health (NIH) and the Department of Health and Human Services (HHS). If it is to deliver on its mission, ARPA-H needs to be an autonomous entity that approaches biomedical research in a way never done before by the federal government. The stakes are high: If ARPA-H fails to produce new clinical advances relatively quickly, it will erode trust in US science. It’s time for clear thinking and action about what it will take to make ARPA-H successful.

Oxidation of guanine by the outer-sphere metal complex oxidant Ru(bpy)33+ (bpy is 2,2′-bipyridine) has been explored in deoxyguanosine-5′-monophosphate with the added buffers succinic acid/succinat...

The buildup to announcing the Breakthrough of the Year is generally a suspenseful time at Science . Long meetings are held, spreadsheets are made, and much coffee is consumed. This year, we knew that the breakthrough would involve COVID-19, but it was only in the past few weeks that the highly effective new vaccines would take the crown. For a while, it seemed too much to hope for, but vaccinations are underway at last. In January, at the prompting of the Wellcome Trust, Science and other journals agreed to a set of principles related to the pandemic. Under these terms, we have made all COVID-19 research papers free without an embargo, have strongly encouraged the posting of preprints, and have expedited publication as much as possible. The agreement has for the most part worked well. In particular, the wider availability of preprints and their data has given scientists a head start, and the expediting of research output has been astonishing. On 10 February, Science received its first COVID-19 paper—the structure of the viral spike protein—which was published 9 days later. At the time, we didn't realize that the world would soon be in the midst of a global pandemic or that the solution would involve a newfangled messenger RNA (mRNA) vaccine based on this very protein. The achievement of COVID-19 vaccines is a testament to the work of so many dedicated scientists today and in the past. The story begins with the fundamentals of immunology and vaccines: the ability of antibody and cellular immunity to form in response to the presence of the antigenic protein. Then comes the packaging of the mRNA that encodes the viral spike protein into a lipid nanoparticle that can be delivered and expressed in a manner that triggers the immune response. And then the manufacturing of the vaccine and the clinical trials ensue, financed by multiple governments and companies. There are other technologies that don't involve mRNA and that appear to provide protection from COVID-19 as well. All of these achievements span large sections of the scientific community and decades of research. But it's not just immunologists, vaccinologists, epidemiologists, clinicians, and public health scholars who should celebrate. This breakthrough is a triumph for all of science. The dedication to finding the truth, improving the human condition, and documenting it all for posterity is common to every area of science, and these principles enabled this moment. So, although astrophysicists may not have contributed directly to the development of the vaccine, they are part of the ecosystem that allowed it to happen. Was the whole story perfect? Of course not. There were missteps with data that slipped past journals and reviewers. There were early statements about masks and airborne transmission that had to be revised. There were experts on television questioning the efficacy of the vaccine because of animal studies that turned out to be unimportant. There were news stories that seized on caveats about reinfections and the details of testing that created confusion. There were preprints that got premature attention, only to be withdrawn for weaknesses. There were unjustified attacks from politicians who sought to exploit the pandemic and scientists. There was a failure to get some of the public to trust public health guidance, which may lead to difficult days ahead even as the life-saving vaccine is rolled out. There will be plenty of time for an exegesis of what went wrong. But for now, what went right is far more important. What went right is that scientists cared and rearranged their lives to get the world to a better place. What went right is that the scientific community had invested in, and created a foundation of, basic and applied knowledge that prepared it to tackle COVID-19. What went right is that scientists around the world often confronted and endured political opposition and personal threats to make sure that progress was made. As hard as the next few months will be, for right now, let's enjoy the moment. It is truly a breakthrough for everyone.

The rapid development of COVID-19 vaccines is the outcome of Big Pharma's R&D prowess, billions of dollars in federal investment, and the dedication and ingenuity of scores of scientists. But it also illustrates the logic of the Bayh-Dole Act, passed 40 years ago in the United States, which governs how universities can work with industry to reap the benefits of federally funded research. The act permits universities to collaborate with private companies to license and commercialize these technologies under the rationale that the payoff for the government's investment is increased economic activity for the country. It is unlikely that the act will ever be brought back to the floor of Congress for revision, and its staying power suggests that it is a permanent fixture of the U.S. innovation ecosystem. Nevertheless, there are legitimate philosophical and logistical objections that the incoming administration should work to address. Over the years, the federal government has funded most of the basic research that underlies the COVID-19 vaccines. But the government itself lacks the capacity to carry out massive clinical trials or to manufacture and distribute the vaccines on its own. The Moderna vaccine, for example, relies on patents that are licensed under Bayh-Dole to the biotechnology company. The fact that vaccines could be available to health care workers as soon as this week is a testament to the effectiveness of the arrangement. When Bayh-Dole first came along, there were notable concerns among university faculties about the conflicts that would arise. Would scientists be objective about their published research if they also stood to gain financially? Would students and postdocs see their careers stalled out because results were held back while patents were filed or—even worse—results were kept secret to protect financial interests? Universities set up ways to monitor and correct such conflicts, and though there have been problems, the system has held up well and contributed to important innovation. Still, the maintenance of technology transfer offices and conflict monitoring have introduced costs to conducting research that are not fully compensated for by the federal government—costs that have taken resources away from other important university priorities. When a faculty member holds equity in a startup company, their interests are not completely aligned with those of the university, which can make negotiating licenses cumbersome and strained. When I was a university administrator, we addressed this problem by creating a boilerplate license with standardized terms that could be automatically agreed to when a company was formed. At the University of North Carolina, we called this the “Carolina Express License” and at Washington University, we called it the “Quick-Start License.” A few other universities have such policies—notably, Carnegie Mellon and the University of California, San Diego—but unfortunately, this idea has not been widely adopted. The rationale against the boiler-plate license is that every deal is different and needs to be separately negotiated, but that leaves the problem of those additional administrative costs, as well as the risk of damaging the university's relationship with the faculty entrepreneur. A number of faculty departures over the years have resulted from sour relations caused by these negotiations. Although Bayh-Dole has produced much economic success and progress on important fronts, there are major drawbacks to depending on the marketplace to spur the kind of research that benefits society—a stated rationale for passing the act. This disconnect provides the strongest argument to create a more public system that doesn't rely on the financial short-sightedness of industry collaboration; however, most attempts at public solutions to this problem have not led to innovations applied outside the public-private model. Thus, the current system does not address what to do when there is insufficient financial interest to attract solutions to problems like antibiotic resistance or unrealized pandemics. As the new Biden administration forms in the United States, a productive effort might be seeking a means of working within the framework of Bayh-Dole to address compelling needs that are not market-driven.

Racism, climate denial, and coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) are major crises standing in the way of a prosperous future for the United States, and resolution of all three could be enabled by science that is persistently ignored. In Ernest Hemingway's novel The Sun Also Rises , a character named Mike is asked how he went bankrupt. “Two ways,” he answers. “Gradually, then suddenly.” The resistance of U.S. policy to science has followed a similar path: It gradually built up over 40 years, beginning with the election of Ronald Reagan, but suddenly reached a tipping point in the chaos of 2020. Will the path to resolution also be gradual and then sudden, and if so, at what cost? A saying incorrectly attributed to Winston Churchill holds that Americans always do the right thing but only after all other possibilities have been exhausted. Whatever the source, the idea lives on because it resonates and is no more apparent than in the failure of the United States to aggressively deal with 400 years of racial injustice. Slavery ended, but only after a civil war and decades of delay. The civil rights movement created important positive change, but only after civil rights leaders Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and John Lewis boxed in President Lyndon Johnson so that he had little choice but to champion legislation or be associated by history with staunch segregationist George Wallace. Will people of color in the United States have to endure yet more violence from white supremacists before the next inflection toward racial justice? As for confronting climate change, the prospects seem distant. Support for climate science has been steadily undermined by politicians catering to businesses dependent on fossil fuels and by religious conservatives suspicious of science because it argues for evolution. When California's Secretary for Natural Resources Wade Crowfoot challenged President Donald Trump on climate change, the president laughed and said, “I don't think science knows, actually.” Perhaps Trump knew he was saying something untrue but that many Americans agree with. Will wholesale environmental destruction have to occur before the United States does something about climate change? When it comes to COVID-19, White House Chief of Staff Mark Meadows admitted, “We're not going to control the pandemic,” making clear that Trump's only strategy is to wait for therapeutics and vaccines to soften the blow. Although prospects for both look promising, we are months, if not a year, away from reasonable supplies of either. In the same interview, Meadows said that we would defeat the virus “because we're Americans.” Such nationalistic exceptionalism is embarrassing. The virus doesn't “know” who is an American. Must hundreds of thousands more people die before the United States recognizes that humility in the face of challenge is the way to save lives? Now that so many possibilities have been tried and exhausted, can science help push the country toward resolving these issues? Science must deal with the systemic racism that persists in our enterprise. There are scientifically sound measures that could promote greater racial justice in America, but the scientific community is in no position to advocate for racial justice if its own house is not in order, and that requires difficult soul-searching about the underrepresentation of racial and ethnic groups as well as norms and practices of science that are not inclusive. Scientists must continue to speak out. Skepticism of the peril of COVID-19 has brought forth the response of science in ways never before seen. Scientists must hold on to that voice once the world gets past the pandemic. The old ideal of keeping politics out of science has not served the United States well. And scientists must continue to do the best science. Eventually, society will ask for help. Let's make sure science has the goods when they do.

As if there were any doubt that U.S. President Donald Trump has no respect for scientists, he now refers to public health scholars as “Fauci and all these idiots.” That's how he's describing experts in virology, immunology, epidemiology, and infectious disease. Never mind that after recovering from coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19), Trump suddenly became excited about future vaccines and “Regeneron,” which is what he calls monoclonal antibodies in general. (Regeneron Pharmaceuticals, Inc. is probably thrilled to have achieved the product-brand status of Xerox and Kleenex, but Eli Lilly also has developed promising monoclonals, and more are in clinical trials.) Apparently, no one told the president that scientists from these same fields—many of whom live in “Democrat-run cities” or college towns and are immigrants who wouldn't be here under his policies—created these drugs and carried out the decades of science that made them possible. This paradox of loving the drug but hating the science is nothing new. It's just louder this time. Republican presidents were not always rhetorically hostile to science. As described earlier this year on this page, on the 50th anniversary of Earth Day, James Morton Turner and Andrew Isenberg carefully traced how the United States got to this point. In the 1970s, President Richard Nixon worked hard to pass important pieces of public health and environmental legislation that were approved with large bipartisan majorities in Congress. Then, when Ronald Reagan arrived as a candidate in the 1980 election, he advocated teaching creationism in public schools and mocked environmental science and regulation. In his brand of conservatism, the free market and American exceptionalism could not coexist with a shared responsibility for caring for the planet or its inhabitants. Vice President Mike Pence is carrying on Reagan's tradition. In a widely viewed speech on the House floor when he was a member of Congress, Pence extolled “intelligent design.” He cited a then-recent study of new fossils, which enhanced our understanding of how human life unfolded on Earth, as evidence that evolution was invalid because scientists were always changing theories when new data were obtained. He was criticizing scientists for doing science, as my colleague Jon Cohen recently tweeted. If Pence thinks we can't change our understanding with new data, then we'd have to go back to breathing phlogiston and being orbited by the Sun. The paradox has played out for years. Many Republicans in Congress have been strong advocates for science funding, especially for the National Institutes of Health, although some simultaneously espouse antiscience views and embrace creationism. Biology is the study of evolution, and biomedicine is applied evolution. Why would creationists spend money to study and apply this heresy? Because they want their new medicines. They want to tell their constituents that they are fighting diseases that are harming their families. Arguing for science funding by promising new cures has been a winning political strategy for the 75 years that the United States has had federally funded science. A recent survey from the Pew Research Center found that only 20% of the political right has “a lot” of confidence in scientists. Yet when folks at this end of the political spectrum get sick, they want the best treatments that secular academic medicine can provide. The consequences of this are profound and especially apparent in the COVID-19 crisis. The same politicians who are criticizing public health guidance are praising vaccines and antibodies without acknowledging that they come from the same principles and researchers as masks and social distancing. When the presidential election is over, science will face an important choice. Should the scientific community try to get the missing 80% of the ideological right to understand its people and its methods? Or should science write it off as a lost cause and continue to take the funding while providing the outstanding new medicines?

Over the past few weeks, prominent scientific publications have condemned President Donald Trump's record on science. This is unprecedented. Although my predecessors at Science have always held elected U.S. officials accountable (but could not make a formal political endorsement because of the nonprofit status of the American Association for the Advancement of Science, the publisher of Science ), many of these publications are now clearly denouncing the U.S. president, administration, and federal agency leaders as the nation approaches a highly consequential presidential election. To paraphrase lyrics by Lin-Manuel Miranda in “Hamilton” about another set of political essays, why do we write like we're running out of time? Because recent events show that the voice of the scientific community can lead to positive change. I have been supportive and then critical of Stephen Hahn, commissioner of the U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA). When he granted the emergency use authorization (EUA) for hydroxychloroquine to treat coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19), much of the biomedical community lost trust in him, but I maintained that if he stuck to the science on the COVID-19 vaccine, the nation should support him. When he botched the announcement of the EUA for convalescent plasma to treat the disease, I lost confidence in him again and wrote that society was on its own to tackle COVID-19 without help from the FDA. At the same time, Eric Topol, editor-in-chief of Medscape and a prominent scientist and public health advocate, called for Hahn to resign. Topol got Hahn's attention. After Topol's editorial appeared, the commissioner reached out to him, which, as Topol told me, started a series of conversations about their differences. Hahn confirmed to Topol that he had been instructed by the White House to extoll the benefits of convalescent plasma beyond his scientific judgment. Subsequently, the FDA proposed to the White House a more stringent protocol for approving a COVID-19 vaccine. In the case of the two leading vaccine candidates (Moderna and Pfizer), a 2-month delay would be required for half of the volunteers that received a second shot, which must be delivered 3 to 4 weeks after the first immunization. This meant that an EUA for a vaccine would not be approved before the election. Trump attacked Hahn and criticized this logical move for patient safety as being politically motivated. Surprisingly, a few days later, the White House agreed to the FDA guidelines. Hahn had stood up for science and stood up to Trump. In an interview with Topol, Hahn pledged to stand up for sound scientific judgement. The pressure put on Hahn by the scientific community played a big role in stiffening his spine. Topol told me that Hahn said he was “profoundly dejected” after the convalescent plasma debacle and realized that the subsequent vaccine drama posed an “existential crisis”—either he would be fired by Trump or permanently lose his standing in the scientific community. Ultimately, he decided that doing what was right for the success of the COVID-19 vaccine trials and the safety of the public—while also repairing his reputation in medical science—was more important than keeping his job at the FDA. We can hope that it's too much trouble for Trump to fire him this close to the election. I'm now back to supporting Hahn knowing that scientists will decide whether to approve the COVID-19 vaccines and provided he continues to support science. With his apparent recovery from COVID-19 due perhaps in part to receiving an experimental monoclonal antibody cocktail from Regeneron, Trump's attention has turned to touting this treatment as a “cure” and promising its availability to all Americans. An antibody-based treatment does deserve more scientific attention, but a therapeutic is not a cure. If an EUA for this treatment is announced, the scientific community needs Hahn to resist Trump's pressure to exaggerate and declare the pandemic over. These antibodies are helpful but currently in very limited supply and not something that will “get everybody out of the hospitals,” as Trump said recently. The scientific community must keep the pressure on Hahn to state the science clearly. Readers who don't think Science and its publishing peers should write about politics often tell us to “stick to science.” We are sticking to science, but more importantly, we're sticking up for science.

For more than 200 years, U.S. presidents have strived to deliver words of inspiration and humility that will stand the test of time. Even in a contentious debate in which the Oval Office is at stake, we expect a standing president to inspire and unite the country. Not surprisingly, President Donald Trump used the occasion of the first presidential “debate” of 2020 to deny realities, insult his opponent, and praise himself—all with his customary lean vocabulary. Over the ages, U.S. presidents have pored over parchment, legal pads, and laptops to create the scripture of the nation: “…the only thing we have to fear is…fear itself,” “a date which will live in infamy,” “ask not what your country can do for you…,” and “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall” resonate ever stronger over time. There are no such inspiring words today. President Trump has no interest in lifting up Americans or the rest of the world. He only wants to bring society down with his rhetorical carnage. During the past 4 years we’ve heard “very fine people, on both sides,” “I need loyalty,” “shithole countries,” and “the concept of global warming was created by and for the Chinese.” And from the debate stage, he told one group of militant right-wing thugs to “stand back and stand by,” as if he was asking them to cool it for now while awaiting further orders. When it comes to the crisis of coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19), Trump’s words could not be more destructive. When scientists tried to tell him a crisis was coming, he called it “their new hoax.” About the extraordinary number of lives lost he says, “it is what it is.” His plan for conquering the virus is simply that “like a miracle, it will disappear.” His communications strategy is “I always wanted to play it down.” And as for his role as the leader of a country in crisis, he says, “No, I don’t take responsibility at all.” It’s safe to say that Presidents Roosevelt, Kennedy, and Reagan would have said something more comforting and profound. His words are particularly painful for science. Long days and nights have been spent by scientists standing at the bench, fighting to understand the causative virus and methods to defeat it. Epidemiologists have been analyzing their models trying to devise mitigations. Physician-scientists and their colleagues in academic hospitals have developed new approaches to bring down the death rate substantially. And through all this, these researchers have never heard one word of acknowledgment from their president. It’s no wonder that the braggard who said, “I alone can fix it” can’t bring himself to admit that he is not the person who will get us through the pandemic. Even with the vaccine that so many have worked toward, Trump has manufactured a rationale by which he is the one who deserves the credit. Those of us who live in Washington, DC, are surrounded by the words that define America. We can go on long walks to the World War II Memorial, along the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool, and up the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. We can stand where Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. said, “I have a dream.” And we can see chiseled into marble the words of Abraham Lincoln: “Let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation's wounds; to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow, and his orphan —to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace, among ourselves, and with all nations.” By now, we know that we will not get such uplifting rhetoric from Donald Trump. For the scientists and many others who have made sacrifices to fight this pandemic, we’d settle for just two words. Two words that are simply not in his vocabulary. Two words that he can’t say to the vaccine scientists who have worked 18-hour days, their kids out of school and family members affected by the pandemic. Two words that he can’t say to the health care workers, their faces raw from their protective masks and their souls crushed because they are living in self-isolation to protect their families, who have labored in the wards to bring down the death rate. Two words for those who have borne the battle of COVID-19. Two words Donald Trump simply can’t say: “Thank you.”

It has been a rough 2 weeks for the US science community. After 4 years of bludgeoning by the Trump administration, hope resurged a year ago as a new White House promised to value science. But there have been missteps, the most recent taking place on the heels of another blunder that many saw coming. Eric Lander, who just stepped down as President Biden’s science adviser and director of the Office of Science and Technology Policy (OSTP), was a prominent research figure with a well-known record of bullying and callous actions. With the notable exception of the 500 Women Scientists organization, the scientific community was embarrassingly silent about Lander’s nomination. Not surprisingly, he is out of the White House because of the same behavioral issues. And yet, in another tone deaf move, the administration just named Francis Collins, the recently retired director of the National Institutes of Health (NIH), as Lander’s interim replacement as science adviser while asking Alondra Nelson, the OSTP’s deputy director for science and society and an experienced administrator and scholar, to temporarily direct OSTP. Apparently, Biden doesn’t think Nelson is capable of doing both jobs. I disagree and am not staying silent this time.

As science struggles to correct systemic racism in the laboratory and throughout academia in the United States, external forces press on, making it even more difficult to achieve equity on all fronts—including among scientists. The latest example is the decision by the US Supreme Court to hear cases brought against Harvard University and the University of North Carolina (UNC) at Chapel Hill challenging their right to use race as a factor in undergraduate admissions. It is sometimes easy for scientists to let colleagues in other disciplines engage in a debate like this, but the dismantling of race-conscious admissions would deal another blow to equity in science. The Supreme Court has protected affirmative action in the past, but the Court’s current majority of conservative justices could mean the end of the program. This is no time for the scientific community to stay silent. It is a crucial moment for science to mobilize against this latest assault on diversity.

I had the good fortune of spending a lot of time with E. O. Wilson, who recently passed away at the age of 92. Wilson was a towering figure who proposed grand ideas about biology and conservation, not just in scientific papers but in numerous books, some winning Pulitzer Prizes, that stood out for their outstanding writing. I began interacting with Ed Wilson when I was running the Morehead Planetarium and Science Center at the University of North Carolina (UNC) at Chapel Hill, and we worked together on a number of education projects. I had the privilege when I was the UNC chancellor of awarding an honorary degree to Wilson when he spoke at a commencement. Wilson’s life is worth examining not just for his extraordinary accomplishments, but also for how debates about his ideas drove science forward.

The failure of U.S. government scientists in the Trump administration to follow the science around COVID-19 has left the medical community to fend for itself.

The chasm between science and politics continues to grow, with Russian President Putin announcing this week that a fast-tracked vaccine for coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) is ready for use, and President Trump indicating days earlier that a vaccine could be ready in the United States before the 3 November presidential election. There's been a dangerous rush to get to the vaccine finish line first. In a race of “Sputnik” proportions (as Putin puts it), quick approval by regulatory agencies is needed to “win.” This is dangerous thinking, driven by political goals and instant gratification: Shortcuts in testing for vaccine safety and efficacy endanger millions of lives in the short term and will damage public confidence in vaccines and in science for a long time to come. The Russian vaccine remains shrouded in mystery—there is no published information about it, and what has been touted comes from the mouths of politicians. In the United States, the pressure applied to government scientists by the administration on any aspect of the pandemic is becoming increasingly palpable, as they have been criticized or quieted in plain sight by the administration and Trump. Anthony Fauci, the nation's foremost leader on infectious diseases and a member of the White House Coronavirus Task Force, has been the most willing to state things clearly, but he has had to deal with muzzling and outright abuse from Trump and White House adviser Peter Navarro (not to mention shameful threats of violence against him and his family). The majority of epidemiologists worldwide who work on infectious diseases are firmly committed to randomized controlled trials (“phase 3”) for all interventions, but especially for vaccines to be given to healthy people. This method allows comparison to a control group that receives a placebo. The phase 3 studies now under way on promising COVID-19 vaccine candidates involve approximately 30,000 patients. A randomized controlled trial is particularly important for determining the effectiveness of the vaccine, and the trial must continue until individuals in the control group become infected. It is impossible to predict how long that will take. Physicians who seek to advise healthy patients on taking the vaccine will rightfully require these data. The U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA) has a Vaccines and Related Biological Products Advisory Committee to consult on the approval of vaccines and any associated emergency use authorizations. There are calls for assurances that there will not be any such authorization for COVID-19; the only emergency use authorization ever granted for a vaccine was for one against anthrax because of the purported threat of biological warfare involving this agent. In any event, the scientific community in the United States must insist that approvals of an emergency use authorization or for a COVID-19 vaccine itself should be made in consultation with the FDA's Committee—and actions around the world should involve similar scientific oversight. Premature approval of a vaccine in the United States (or anywhere) could be a disastrous replay of the hydroxychloroquine fiasco but with much higher stakes. Approval of a vaccine that is harmful or isn't effective could be leveraged by political forces that already propagate vaccine fears. So far, U.S. government scientists are holding strong. Francis Collins, director of the National Institutes of Health, emphatically called for phase 3 trials of vaccines, and FDA director Stephen Hahn also has stated that he will follow the science. There's a lot riding on Hahn, and as long as he holds firm with the science, the scientific community should support him. He made a mistake in granting an emergency use authorization for hydroxychloroquine but withdrew it once he saw the data—randomized clinical trials showing that the drug was useless against COVID-19. Now the other faces of the U.S. government's science apparatus—Robert Redfield (director of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention), Deborah Birx (response coordinator of the White House Coronavirus Task Force), and Brett Giroir (assistant secretary for Health)—need to push all their chips onto the table in favor of a phase 3 randomized controlled trial on any COVID-19 vaccine. [Despite their periodic squirming and equivocation, these leaders all deserve and need the nation's support as long as they continue to respect the science on this issue.][1] Countless lives are at stake—no compromises on the vaccine. [1]: https://blogs.sciencemag.org/editors-blog/2020/08/18/atlas-shrugs/