The Art and Politics of Science (review)

In this autobiography and collection of essays, we learn how Harold Varmus created a life of consequence, enabled by his passions, a competitive streak, a certain quirky social deftness, a sixth sense for navigating political minefields, and a dose of chutzpah. Varmus readily admits that it was prizes (actually the Nobel Prize, although he also won the Lasker and many others) that opened doors for him to the halls of power. While the Nobel provides a public voice, it is the rare laureate who can parlay the media attention into a second career as the successful leader of a public institution and from there on to statesmanship. (Varmus was recently appointed co-chair of President Obama's Council of Advisors on Science and Technology.)

Arguably, ascending to positions of influence in science requires fluid communication skills and proficiency in the social realm as much as creativity in the laboratory. Varmus—who as an undergraduate at Amherst demonstrated a love for the novels of Shaw and Ibsen, served as editor-in-chief of the student newspaper and wrote a thesis on Dickens, and then spent a year in the Ph.D. program in English at Harvard—has easy facility with language. He enjoys lecturing and speaks widely on topics as varied as the genetic basis of cancer and global health. He has become one of the few public intellectuals of the 21st century to emerge from medical science, instead of from the ranks of social science, the arts, or literature.

Varmus also seems to thrive on community and collaboration. These personal qualities no doubt contributed to his success in the laboratory and his easy transition from cloistered University of California, San Francisco (UCSF) professor managing a small research group to visionary leader and public persona. His perspective on scientific teamwork is elaborated in a chapter on "Partnerships in Science," which we learn from the acknowledgment was included at the suggestion of David Kessler (former FDA Commissioner and UCSF dean), who was apparently moved by Varmus's comments at a birthday celebration for his long-time collaborator J. Michael Bishop. Indeed, the type of collaboration that Bishop and Varmus had is rare in science. The two were drawn together because of common backgrounds and personalities (including a mutual love of words and language) and a shared vision about science. However, the situation is complicated. Varmus admits that during the 14 years he and Bishop shared a laboratory, they seldom discussed science with each other; their interactions mainly occurred during sessions with trainees. Varmus is frank in his disclosure that it was a sense of not being considered Bishop's equal that eventually drove them apart. Of course, ego is a prime motivator in science, and there must be a mechanism for its gratification even in team science. In any case, it was not only the feeling of subordination to Bishop that led Varmus to seek greener pastures. He admits that UCSF had become too comfortable, and he was frustrated by his lack of administrative responsibility.

After being passed over as director of the Whitehead Institute at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Varmus jumped at the opportunity to apply for the position of director of the National Institutes of Health (NIH), which he must have known would throw him into a political cauldron. The job became available during the transition to the Clinton administration. The NIH director at the time was Bernadine Healy, who Varmus notes was unpopular because of her "lack of laboratory experience, her corporate approach to 'strategic planning' for the NIH, her allegiance to the Bush-Quayle administration, and her own political ambitions." But it was her skirmishes with members of Congress that led to her tenure being cut short by the incoming administration of President Bill Clinton, a little over two years after she had assumed the director position.

Having been an intramural scientist at the NIH during the Varmus era, I experienced what seemed like a fresh breeze wafting over the campus when Varmus replaced the contentious Healy...