Meltdown of a science-fiction hero

Few scientists have fallen from grace as spectacularly as Hwang Woo-suk, the South Korean geneticist who conceded this week that his stem cell research was based on fabricated data. Dr Hwang had been lionised in South Korea, a nation of compulsive achievers that reveres education and lusts after international respect. His deception has rattled the scientific world and raised questions as to how the fraud went undetected. It appears now that the truth was too harsh for many South Koreans to bear. Branded 'The Pride of Korea', throughout last year, Dr Hwang was a national hero for his work on stem cell research. He spoke on topics as diverse as bioengineering and the upgrading of South Korea's international image. Korean Air granted him free flights for life. The public gasped admiringly when he refused first-class air tickets for himself to save costs so junior researchers could travel with him in economy when he flew to collaborate with colleagues abroad. The government named him 'Supreme Scientist' and, seeking to promote the country's international position in biotechnology research, granted US$29 million in funding to Dr Hwang's team. A set of commemorative stamps was issued last year, juxtaposing his image with that of a man rising from a wheelchair and walking. He was even given bodyguards - although why a civilian scientist would require them was unclear. The man who was born in a poor hill town in Chungcheong province in 1952 had done well. He entered South Korea's top school, Seoul National University, on merit and rose through the academic ranks. A veterinarian by training, his work in the 1990s was based on cow genetics before he moved on to human cloning. He was, he said, 'driven to cure the incurable', and became a professor at the university's department of heriogenology and biotechnology. Dr Hwang claimed his first major achievement in February 2004, saying he had cloned human embryos to provide stem cells. Stem cells are master cells that have the potential to develop into any cell type in the body. Scientists say they could treat illnesses ranging from diabetes to Parkinson's. In May last year, Dr Hwang's team said it had produced a stem cell line of 11 cells, raising the possibility of producing cells tailored to individuals' DNA. The breakthrough was hailed worldwide. And it didn't stop there. In August, his team cloned an Afghan hound named Snuppy. With the credibility that came with having his work published in the US journal Science, Dr Hwang became the toast of the global scientific community. He received the plaudits of the likes of Edinburgh University's Ian Wilmut, who cloned Dolly the sheep. 'We have planted our national flag on the hill of world bioengineering,' Dr Hwang boasted. Then, late last year, things began to unravel. As early as May 2004, the British journal Nature alleged that female members of Hwang's team had donated their eggs for research, a practice at odds with globally accepted ethical standards. Dr Hwang denied the report. In November last year, a key Hwang collaborator, Roh Sung-il of Seoul's MizMedi Hospital, admitted it had supplied eggs used in the stem cell experiments. The University of Pittsburgh's Gerald Schatten, a colleague of Dr Hwang's, added to suspicions when he claimed that Dr Hwang had collected eggs unethically. An investigative documentary on national broadcaster MBC amplified the scandal, inflaming the public. Advertisers withdrew from MBC and producers received death threats for defiling the hero. So vitriolic was the abuse that President Roh Moo-hyun warned, in a public letter, of the dangers of 'misplaced nationalism'. Some critics suspect the president, through his scientific advisers, had an inkling of what was to come. When it was discovered that eggs had been procured unethically, Dr Hwang at last admitted deceit. 'I withheld the truth after the journal [Nature] requested my confirmation on this matter,' he said before resigning as head of a government-funded Stem Cell Hub. Thus far, only an obscure scientific ethical breach had taken place; Dr Hwang was still considered a genius. Supporters painted him as selfless, saying he had lied to protect over-enthusiastic juniors' privacy. He was admitted to hospital suffering from stress. Politicians competed for photo opportunities at his bedside. But the allegations continued. After Dr Schatten, in December, asked Science magazine to remove his name from a paper co-authored with Dr Hwang, alleging fabrication of data, the university formed a panel to investigate his work. Their findings, announced this week, were devastating. Dr Hwang knew all about the unethical sourcing of eggs. Most damningly, he had not produced any stem cells as claimed. The university accused him of fraud. 'I sincerely apologise for using erroneous data,' Dr Hwang said on Thursday, although he claimed that the data used in his stem cell papers, which he admitted not checking, was fabricated by MizMedi researchers. Still defiant - in his press conference, he was flanked by current and former students - he said his team could produce individually tailored stem cells in six months. But few believe him now, and the backlash has been vicious. Dr Hwang has been stripped of the title 'Supreme Scientist' - and the grants that went with it. On Thursday prosecutors raided his home; if found to have embezzled research funds, he faces criminal charges. News broadcasts this week featured film of middle-school children looking sadly at pictures of Dr Hwang in their textbooks on Korean heroes. In downtown Seoul's giant Kyobo Book Centre, the shelves in the children's section are bereft of biographies with titles such as I Want To Be Like Him and Children, Let's Learn of the Success of Professor Hwang. 'We used to carry 10-15 titles about him,' said sales assistant Kim Hee-jong. 'Now we have none. We pulled them when the scandal broke.' The cavernous book shop is a good place to get a handle on the crisis of self-confidence gripping Korea. In the entrances are posted pencil portraits of Nobel Prize winners. The only Korean winner, former president Kim Dae-jung, hangs among them: he won the Nobel Peace Price after engineering the 2000 summit with North Korean leader Kim Jong-il. Nearby is an empty space. On the wall next to it, a placard explains. 'We still have an empty space reserved for another Nobel Prize winner who glorifies the name of our country and our people throughout the world.' Many hoped Dr Hwang would be that man. However, though dwindling groups of hopeful supporters still hold vigils outside his lab, the 'Hwang-gate' scandal has caused South Koreans to question themselves, their systems and their values. 'Koreans have become so used to the compressed growth of the economy and other fields that they suffer a chronic illness of hastiness, approximation and the moral hazard of justifying the means with the purpose,' the leading Joongang Ilbo newspaper said in an editorial. Korea's cardinal to the Vatican, Cardinal Stephen Kim, in tears, told a Catholic newspaper: 'We Koreans cannot save face in front of the world.' 'There were procedural problems,' former health and welfare minister Kim Geun-tae told foreign reporters on Thursday, as he discussed Dr Hwang. 'We need a system to screen fraudulent manipulations.' Many members of the public are inflamed. 'He cunningly intercepted the extraordinary amount of money going to support him,' alleged one poster on the popular portal site Naver. 'This notorious conman has made suckers of the whole world.' What remains unclear is how Dr Hwang thought he could get away with it. One fact overlooked in the furore is that the university panel found that the cloning of Snuppy - a significant scientific achievement - was legitimate. Some commentators suggest that Dr Hwang, believing himself on the verge of a real breakthrough, lied in the hope that when he achieved that, his transgressions would be forgiven. Others feel that he got swept up on a wave of nationalistic adulation. 'Hwang was no longer researching stem cells, he was leading the hopes of a nation - which for a scientist is absurd,' said Mike Breen, Seoul-based author of The Koreans. 'You don't conduct science the way the Eastern Europeans used to conduct sports.' Perhaps not - but South Korean scientists do have a history of overlooking rules and regulations. In 2004, scientists at state-run laboratories were found to have engaged in officially unsanctioned nuclear experiments without reporting them to international bodies, so contravening global treaties. The country faced International Atomic Energy Agency probes, but escaped without penalties. Moral hazard is nothing new in South Korea. One of the highest profile scandals went to the very top. The achievement of Kim Dae-jung, the nation's only Nobel Prize winner, was tainted when it was discovered, subsequent to the award, that Seoul had paid Pyongyang a secret bribe of US$500 million to agree to the summit. The Nobel committee decided to let him keep the prize, given his long struggle for democracy. The management of Kyobo Book Centre is certainly not quibbling over the Kim controversy, but the empty space on the shop's wall is unlikely ever to be filled with a portrait of Hwang Woo-suk. 'Hwang was no longer researching stem cells, he was leading the hopes of a nation'