THE HASTY PUDDING produced A Thousand Clones each night for two months to mixed reviews, but when author David Rorvik announced in February that a child had been cloned in a laboratory, the response was immediate and deafening, raising questions involving scientific, journalistic, and human ethics. Scientists called the claim a hoax and demanded documentation, but none was forthcoming as Rorvik fell back, using a journalist's privilege to protect his sources. The publisher was criticized for publishing his book as non-fiction without being sure of its accuracy, and it responded by speeding up the printing of the book.

The newly-released book, In His Image: The Cloning of a Man, is worth reading if only to consider some of the issues and ethical questions which cloning and current scientific research thrust on a largely unsuspecting populace.

Indeed, Lippincott has apparently seized this purpose as an alibi in the continuing controversy over the legitimacy of Rorvik's story. A publisher's note falls short of backing up the author and concludes that the book "will stimulate interest and debate on issues of the utmost significance for our immediate future." And Rorvik added an afterword, saying that he hoped that people "benefit by this preview of an astonishing development whose time, at least in terms of some of the emotional and ethical issues it raises, has apparently not quite yet come." It is conceivable that Rorvik contrived his story, or at least fudged the end result in order to shock readers into dealing with the issues raised by genetic engineering, such as cloning and recombinant DNA work.

Nevertheless, the big question scientists and National Enquirer readers alike ask, of course, is "can humans be cloned?" Rorvik answers that with unlimited financing from a millionaire, limited red tape and several years of research on a Far East isle, as he describes in his scenario, cloning is indeed possible. And he makes a good case for his claim, describing the current state of cloning technology in clear terms for the layman with little science background. He goes through the three stages of the process (see box), listing recent advances made with animal cells and test tube fertilization studies for each step, and the directions his own scientist, named Darwin to protect his identity, had explored.

But scientists overwhelmingly reject the possibility, saying that the major barrier--inducing an egg fertilized with an implanted body cell nucleus to develop--could not yet be overcome. They say that since a frog was successfully cloned in the early '60s, researchers have been unable to clone a mouse, let alone a man. Jonathan Beckwith '57, professor of Microbiology and Molecular Genetics at the Medical School, voices a common objection to Rorvik's claim: "I'm sort of surprise that the barriers could have been overcome so quickly and without hearing about it."

Beckwith goes on to say that recent developments "make Rorvik's claims not inconceivable." He adds that recent objections have "less to do with the state of the technology than with the entrenchment of biologists." Many researchers in genetics are apparently afraid of a public debate over cloning, alarmed by the controversy over recombinant DNA, and are trying to play down the issue. They fear that such debate may slow related research and put science in the hands of politicians.

Rorvik brings the issue into the public arena and asks the more important question: should cloning be done? He presents his thoughts, those of Darwin and other respected scientists in a haphazard fashion, reflecting the uncertainties in his mind as he formulates the decision to seek out a researcher and go ahead with the cloning.

ARE WE PROMETHEUS playing with fire, Rorvik asks, tampering with the forces of evolution, or is man, because of his ability to reason, meant to increase his chances of survival any way he can? Cloning could be used to duplicate Einsteins and Bruce Jenners. But it could also be used for less admirable purposes; entire armies could be cloned from some red-faced marine sergeant, or how about a television show called "Charlie's Clones" featuring 50 Farrah Fawcett-Majors?

Cloning has numerous implications which scientists must consider. Science ethicists generally ask two basic questions: 1) Does the end justify the means if the research undermines our values and 2) is there knowledge with which we should not be trusted? Rorvik considers the possibility of experimentation with fetuses, lying to patients, and the misuse of cloning but concludes that the process of scientific inquiry must not be hindered.

It must also proceed without secrecy.

It is at this point that Rorvik goes wrong, and he should therefore be criticized for helping to conduct this secret cloning of a human. The scientific method demands public disclosure, guaranteeing that experiments can be repeated and results duplicated. Rorvik realizes that he is "undermining the traditional scientific ethics" but overlooks the fact. But he cannot get away with this for he is subverting the very essence of science.

In a curious bit of double talk, Rorvik wrote,

Like a red flag, cloning could alert the world to the awesome possibilities that loomed ahead and thus serve as a catalyst for public participation in the life-and-death decisions that might otherwise be left by default to the scientists--men and women who labored for the most part in the interests of humanity but could not be expected to be all-knowing and all-wise.

But by proceeding with the cloning, Rorvik and his scientist cronies have made the decisions and they certainly have not been all-knowing nor all-wise. The very types of abuses and unethical procedure which Rorvik cites as dangers of cloning are prevalent in Darwin's work and are likely to happen again as long as methods are not open to scrutiny by the public and by colleagues. For example, Rorvik's claim in the book that a millionaire without an heir can be considered a suitable subject for cloning is, at the very least, questionable.

Experimenting in secrecy has been becoming an all-too-common problem as professional jealousies and competition for limited research funds compete with the hallowed scientific method. Take, for example, news reports last month that universities can now patent certain experimental techniques, and what this will do to the principle of reproducibility of results.

As another step in this disturbing trend, In His Image is a prime example of what must be avoided as scientists work on the frontiers of genetic engineering. In this sense, Rorvik accomplishes what he set out to do. So read the book, think about the issues, but for heaven's sake, don't buy it. The man does not deserve to make a penny on it.