On April 12, 1955, the results of the largest human medical trial in history were announced to a standing-room-only press conference at the University of Michigan. 1.3 million American school children had been injected with an experimental polio vaccine developed by Dr. Jonas Salk.
The room erupted in cheers when the researchers declared the vaccine both safe and effective.
Today, polio is only a threat in the poorest nations, particularly India, Pakistan and Nigeria. But in 1954 there were 100,000 cases in the US alone — most striking children, killing many outright and leaving others paralyzed for life. Polio terrified parents. News of Dr. Salk’s vaccine electrified the world.
For his work, Jonas Salk was featured on the cover of Time magazine. He was honored by President Eisenhower in a Rose Garden ceremony. Congress gave him the Congressional Gold Medal. This medical researcher was treated by the press and the public like a rock star.
To his peers, however, Salk’s sudden fame was hard to swallow. He had failed to acknowledge the contributions of his lab staff, taking the credit alone for a vaccine that was born from a long and arduous team effort.
And Salk had a competitor, Dr. Albert Sabin, a brilliant virologist who was hard at work on his own polio vaccine. To Sabin, Salk was nothing more than a “kitchen chemist,” a hack, a man who had never had an original idea. Sabin had tried unsuccessfully to suppress Salk’s vaccine to give his own lab time to complete their work. Sabin went so far as to claim that Salk’s vaccine was unsafe, a lie that created confusion among parents.
Albert Sabin was a highly respected member of the National Academy of Sciences, an honor that was never given to Dr. Salk. The consensus among virologists was that despite Salk’s successful trials, the country would be better off waiting for Sabin to catch up. Parents, understandably, refused to wait.
The compelling story of the conquest of polio is told in David Oshinsky’s excellent book Polio: An American Story.
One of the things I found interesting was this clash of colossal egos. We might like to think that in a field like medical research where the object is to relieve human suffering, an atmosphere of harmony and collegiality could reign.
What we find instead is back-stabbing, character assassination, lying, abuse of power, unfair competition, and every other common human sin.
Today’s hottest area of medical research, embryonic stem cells, has been rocked by many such scandals including the falsifying of research to gain underserved credit — and research dollars.
The Church is supposed to be better than that. It struggles with sin, too. But it is called to be different. Paul’s famous illustration of Christian team unity and harmony is found in 1 Corinthians 12:12-31: “Now all of you together are Christ’s body, and each one of you is a separate and necessary part of it.” (v. 27)
And from Romans 12:9,10: “Don’t just pretend that you love others. Really love them. Hate what is wrong. Stand on the side of good. Love each other with genuine affection, and take delight in honoring each other.”
As Christians gathered together in the church we have many opportunities to work on this sort of unity.
As Christians scattered in the world of business, law, education and scientific research, we have many opportunities to “really love” others, to honor others, to stand on the side of good, to be an example.
How do we live Christ’s selfless love in the rough and cutthroat world where we earn our living? How do we stand against the pressures to lie, cheat and manipulate to gain a competitive advantage?
How can we be salt people, people of influence in the lives of our non-Christian friends and colleagues?
