In a year dominated by local politics and police conduct,
a story with long-term implications for biotechnology and the region's "new"
new economy largely escaped public scrutiny in 2000.
On Aug. 28, the Oregon Regional Primate Research Center--Oregon Health Sciences
University's most prominent basic research facility--was accused of violating
federal laws and ignoring signs of distress among its rhesus monkeys. A former
primate center staffer named Matt Rossell made the allegations at a downtown
press conference, complete with videotapes he'd shot during his two-plus years
as an animal care technician.
OHSU disputed the charges and, despite intermittent Saturday protests outside
the primate center's 200-acre Hillsboro campus, the story disappeared.
Last month, Michael Conn, the center's associate director, dismissed the episode
as "the cost of business." ORPRC officials note that the center has always drawn
criticism for using sentient creatures as proxies for human biology in its 39
years in operation.
An investigation by WW,
however, shows that within the
primate center, the reaction to Rossell's allegations has been far from casual.
A top ORPRC veterinarian has resigned, a key technician was transferred, scientists
have criticized their peers' work and a controversial procedure for collecting
rhesus semen samples, known as electro-ejaculation, has been modified.
The turmoil actually began in May, when Rossell resigned in protest.
In a show of support, 26 animal technicians signed a letter alleging a "crisis-oriented
environment"
and lax care of primates.
Of the center's 2,500 monkeys, 1,000 are housed indoors, according to Susan
Smith, the center's director. Many of them live in single cages, 4.3 square
feet in size.
Rossell's videos showed some
of the rhesus monkeys--a highly social species capable of performing complex
psychological thought problems--living in filth and displaying chronic behavioral
problems. Some of his footage, aired on local television stations, showed monkeys
huddling in fear and, during an electro-ejaculation session, howling in protest.
OHSU responded that Rossell's motives were suspect and his videotapes misleading.
It's true that Rossell came to the primate center in 1998 with experiences
different from those of other technicians. He had been convicted of disorderly
conduct stemming from a vegetarian protest at a December 1993 cattlemen's conference
in Des Moines, Iowa. In 1995, while working as a part-time security guard at
Boys Town in Omaha, Neb., he discovered a lab on campus using kittens for research.
He contacted People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, a group devoted to
ending all scientific research using animals and helped produce an exposé,
which shuttered the lab for two years while federal agencies investigated the
allegations. He went on to take a job with PETA as an animal-abuse investigator.
But Rossell says he broke with PETA in 1997, before moving to Oregon, out of
frustration that the group's publicity stunts undermined his investigative work.
A PETA official confirmed that Rossell has not worked for the organization for
almost four years.
Rossell sought a job at the primate center, he says, not to spy, but because
he missed working around animals and was fascinated by primates.
But, Rossell says, the conditions he found at OHSU's facility "blew me away."
He began taking notes, photographs and video images of the indoor housing and
resultant psychological conditions. Rossell insists his intent was to seek internal
changes.
In April 2000, he was appointed an alternate member of the center's Institutional
Animal Care and Use Committee. Composed almost entirely of scientists, the committee
oversees every aspect of how animals are used in research at the center, much
like a human studies committee at a research hospital. According to committee-meeting
minutes, Rossell was in fact recruited for the position because other technicians
looked to him as an expert on animal care and because of his intimate contact
with the monkeys.
In addition to attacking Rossell's motives, OHSU has said his videos are misleading
without proper context.
The footage that particularly upset primate center officials involves a monkey
named Jaws. It shows a procedure in which sperm is collected for various in
vitro fertilization studies by ORPRC researchers. Although electro-ejaculation
is a common research procedure, its imagery presents a public-relations nightmare.
In Rossell's video, Jaws is strapped into a rolling chair; two metal bands
are wrapped around his penis; an electrical charge is applied to the bands causing
him to ejaculate.
When applied to a far less sensitive human finger, the electrical charge is
momentarily painful.
The donor monkeys clearly don't enjoy the experience, which is why they are
often fitted with aluminum collars so that technicians may handle them without
injury. Although Jaws has experienced the procedure many times, according to
ORPRC records, on the tape he can be heard screeching in protest.
When the monkey is returned to his cage, he's offered a piece of fruit as a
reward.
"It sounds like some nightmare out of Planet of the Apes," says Martin
Stevens, vice president of research for the Humane Society of the United States.
"There's got to be a better way."
Reproduction biology, one of the center's specialties, depends on a consistent
supply of monkey sperm, and researchers say electro-ejaculation is the best
method to get it. Still, Carol Shively, a primate behavioral expert who inspected
the center's facilities in September at its request, told ORPRC that she "was
not impressed" with the procedure and said the monkeys looked "uncomfortable
and stressed," according to minutes of an Institutional Animal Care and Use
Committee meeting.
That view seems to have been shared by some even within the center.
In at least one instance, a monkey that provided quality sperm remained a donor
despite indications that he was a danger to himself and technicians. According
to documents obtained by WW, in November 1999, veterinarian Steven Kelley,
then in charge of animal resources, wrote Gwen Maginnis (now in charge of animal
resources) asking her to remove a monkey from "the electro-ejaculation pool"
because it continued attempting to attack technicians.
Instead, the monkey was kept in the program another three months and subjected
to eletro-ejaculation nine more times.
What's more, there are indications that ORPRC may have violated its own standards
for how much current is applied to a monkey, and records reviewed by WW show
at least one instance in which heat built up under the bands and burned a monkey's
penis.
The center recently purchased
a new machine to address these problems, and internal documents reveal that
the center is considering trying other methods, but is "prepared to take the
heat" on electro-ejaculation.
It's not clear whether concerns over electro-ejaculation were involved when
Kelley resigned as director of animal resources in July. Kelley was unavailable
for comment. In addition, Al Legasse, a primate colony manager, was transferred
to the center's business office.
In the immediate wake of Rossell's resignation and the internal complaint,
OHSU began a six-week investigation, which concluded that no violations of federal
laws existed and that charges leveled in the technicians' letter were groundless.
Still, at an Institutional Animal Care and Use Committee meeting last September,
ORPRC researchers Daniel Casey and Martha Neuringer both had their use of monkeys
criticized, according to meeting minutes. Concerning Casey's work, the committee
felt it was "inappropriate for additional long-term research to be done with
these animals."
The committee then ordered center veterinarians to examine monkeys in Neuringer's
long-term projects. In October, it learned of "four cases of self-injurious
behavior"--as Rossell had alleged--and tabled approving the study.
In the preceding 30 months, no such peer criticism was leveled at ORPRC scientists,
according to the committee's minutes.
The center also faces outside scrutiny. In September, Rossell filed a complaint
with the U.S. Department of Agriculture under the Animal Welfare Act--the Geneva
Convention for research animals. The next month, USDA veterinarians conducted
a "special investigation." No findings are yet public; according to a USDA spokesman,
such investigations can last as long as two years before a final report is issued.
