Biotechnica International is coming to Cambridge this fall. The small, newly-established genetic engineering firm is still trying to locate office space and has yet to negotiate its first contract, but already at least four Harvard faculty members have agreed to play major roles in the company. Acting as senior research advisors and accepting equity as well as consulting fees, they will actively participate in corporate planning over an extended and indefinite period of time. In doing so, they will tie both their financial futures and professional reputations to an enterprise beyond the University walls.

The four scientists are not unique in their venture. All along Mass Ave and Mt. Auburn St. new companies are springing to life--Biogen and Biotechnica, Genetics Institute and Software Options, Inc. Most of the new companies deal in genetics, diagnostics and computer software--and they are luring topnotch Harvard scholars away from more traditional consulting roles and persuading them to take major, if part-time, responsibilities in as yet untested firms. So far, between 25 and 40 members of the Faculty of Arts and Sciences alone have joined the ranks. What do these Faculty members find so enticing? In almost all cases, the ingredients are the same: stock, consulting fees, and direct, continuous involvement in the direction of a company.

There are, of course, those who contend that the current consulting craze is no different from what has been going on in the physical sciences for decades. "What's new is for this to happen to biologists," Richard M. Losick, professor of Biology and one of the consultants to Biotechnica, says. But most professors, administrators and businessmen familiar with the situation disagree. The consulting arrangement now prevalent in the biological and applied sciences is qualitatively different. A new breed of consultant is emerging.

In the physical sciences, basic research, usually done in universities, often runs five, 10 and 15 years ahead of its practical applications in industry. Some fields are so new, however, that industrial uses can be found almost as soon as theoretical advances are made. "Recombinant DNA can go immediately from a theoretical flash in a scientist's mind to the bench," Richard G. Leahy, associate dean of the Faculty for research and the allied institutions, says

Because of this the new firms must rely heavily on the scientists who are on the cutting edge of technology--in universities--who are familiar with the most recent theoretical advances. And these scholars insist that merely describing their work is impossible.

When a field is very new, they contend, advances often have as much to do with a researcher's technique as with facts--and technique can be hard to describe to others. "The kind of technology I am involved in--computer software--is so complex and unstructured that no document provides the information necessary to do it," Thomas E. Cheatham, McKay Professor of Computer Science and a consultant for Software Options Inc., says. "It simply cannot be done unless you have someone involved in both practical and basic research. You have to be actually involved in the technology transfer rather than just pontificating about it."

Insisting upon that assertion, scientists have begun to work on their technological developments in the most lucrative, convenient and logical places possible: profit-making industries. They have been actively sought. Many of the newly emerging firms list top-university faculty members among their founders. At Harvard: Walter Gilbert, American Cancer Society Professor of Molecular Biology and chairman of Biogen, Inc.; Mark Ptashne, professor of Biochemistry and Molecular Biology and founder of Genetics Institute; and Thomas Roberts, assistant professor of pathology at the Medical School and one of the principal movers behind Biotechnica.

The companies have also become shelters for junior faculty members who have been denied tenure at their universities. And finally, nearly all of the corporations are trying to attract faculty consultants at the forefront of their fields, who will be able to set up labs and direct research activity on a long-term basis. As bonus bait they offer stocks--worth little now but potentially valued in the millions if the venture succeeds.

At first glance this new type of consulting appears attractive--allowing for the transfer of ideas and technology from the University to the marketplace without endangering the ideals of academic freedom. However, the new consulting arrangement is also rife with possibilities for conflicts of interest.

"If I put a lot of time into a company, I'd like it to be a successful company," Lewis C. Cantley, an assistant professor in Biochemistry, says. "I wouldn't want to carry the weight of making the company survive." Cantley is currently considering an offer from a drug manufacturer: He would serve on the firm's scientific board and receive 2 per cent of its equity.

Most faculty members engaged in long-term, high-involvement consulting probably share Cantley's sentiments, and concerned scholars envision numerous conflicts of commitment resulting from such corporate loyalties. A faculty consultant whose firm is sinking in a sea of competition might shirk his academic responsibilities in order to spend more time in his industrial lab. The professor might assign his seniors and graduate students theses relating to his business rather than University research. More likely, such consulting relationships would intensify competition between labs whose heads are affiliated with different firms.

No concern is more worrisome or pervasive than the fear that the new brand of consulting will impair communication within both the University and the larger scientific community. In industry researchers traditionally keep new developments secret long after they have been discovered, and many fear the firms may pressure their academic affiliates to do the same. "Entrepreneurs won't want someone to publish as soon as he's scooped his colleagues," Stephen H. Atkinson '67, executive director of the Committee on Patents and Copyrights, predicts. "[The businessman] is concerned about dollars; for the professor it could be his shot at tenure or the Nobel Prize." According to one Harvard administrator, this situation has already developed "a couple of times."

In most cases, industrial pressure would only result in a publishing delay of a few months, which would allow time for the discovery to be patented. However, more serious problems might arise when unpatentable advances are made. In an extreme case, faculty members might be reluctant to talk about basic research discoveries because they foresee practical applications within a company.

Those dilemmas are relatively new to academic science, and the University has no formal guidelines or mechanism to handle the problems. Some purists argue that Harvard should institute a strict policy prohibiting its faculty members from serving as operating officials in companies--a policy which Princeton University and MIT have followed for years. In 1946, the Business School faculty adopted a policy cautioning against "direct and continuous participation in routine administrative responsibilities as regular members of client organizations." But none of the University's other faculties have ever considered such a measure, and they show little indication of doing so now.

"The standard view in the Faculty of Arts and Sciences is that under most circumstances, faculty members should be able to judge for themselves what the problems are," Paul C. Martin, professor of Physics and chairman of the Committee on Research Policy, says.

The University is not ignoring the issue: This fall the Faculty will consider a proposal setting up a committee to advise Dean Rosovsky on such matters. However, Harvard trusts its faculty and is unlikely to take more stringent action unless faced with a flagrant violation of academic ethics. Until and unless this occurs, the University will rely on unwritten rules and the individual consciences of its professors. And the small companies will continue to thrive around Harvard Square.

Recombinant DNA can go immediately from a theoretical flash in a scientist's mind to the bench.  Richard G. Leahy, associate dean of the FacultyPhotoThe Harvard Crimson