"THE patent will definitely mean some money for us," Tun-Hou Lee, assistant professor of virology, said last week about a new chemical which diagnoses AIDS. Eloquently dubbed GP120, the new glycoprotein was discovered in May and June of 1984 by Lee and Myron E. Essex, professor of microbiology, both faculty members at Harvard's School of Public Health.

Because the discovery was made under Harvard's aegis, the patent for the new chemical belongs to the University, and the two professors will receive a huge cut of any future roylaties. And profits from the discovery will soon flow in, as Cambridge Bioscience, a biotechnology firm in Worcester, has already bought a license to develop and market GP120. This seems to have all gone according to the book--the redbook containing Harvard's research and patenting policies, that is.

But what went virtually unmentioned in press accounts of the licensing agreement--the terms of which were kept secret--is that Essex holds office on Cambridge Bioscience's scientific advisory board. It is unclear whether Essex possesses a financial stake in the biotech firm. Also unclear is what role Essex played in Cambridge Bioscience's decision to buy the license and in Harvard's decision to grant the license to the Worcester firm. But what is clear is that the GP120 deal is another example of the dangers and difficulties which arise when universities and industry "cooperate," especially in the biotechnology field.

THIS cooperation has grown close in recent years, maybe even uncomfortably so. According to the Association of American Universities, between 1980 and 1985 the total amount spent by industry on universities rose from $277 to $482 million. Simultaneously, the number of patents and royalties have jumped, with Harvard last year doubling its revenues from patent royalties. Ties between universities and industry are even tighter in biotechnology--a 1984 Kennedy School study revealed that as much as 25 percent of all such research in higher education is funded by companies and that such university research produces more patents than company work.

Links with industry have proven problematic for universities--even more so than ties with government--because of the difficulty in distinguishing between what belongs to the university and what belongs to the professor. Universities must decide which research can be governed by their rules and which work is private.

When biotechnology first burst onto the national scene in the late 1970s, Harvard underwent a series of wrenching crises to thrash out its policy toward industry. President Bok's plan to accept stock in a professor's biotech company was rejected by the Faculty, while University Professor Walter Gilbert had to resign his post in order to pursue his private business, Biogen. Out of this period came the detailed faculty research policy that still rules today.

The problems were wrenching because academia and industry are fundamentally incompatible. Academics are concerned with the search for truth, no matter how irrelevant the subject may appear to be. Industry focuses on applied research, on developing a useful product and rushing it to market. Professors depend on openness of communication, on sharing news of discoveries to further the advancement of knowledge and research. Industry relies on secrecy, on keeping information about products and processes from competitors.

These differences between the laboratory and the workplace present troubling conflicts of interest when professors enter the business world. Patents, and their secrecy, may erode the openness of a scientific culture that produced a discovery. The glimmer of profit can influence research choices by convincing a professor to pursue a lucrative field instead of working on more esoteric subjects. Professors may withhold the publication of their findings until they reach the patenting stage--as happened several times last year in the field of superconductors--even refusing to informally discuss their research with their colleagues. Consulting or using university facilities for commercial research may divert faculty time from research and teaching duties.

THE problem with eradicating these conflicts of ultimate interests is that business-professor links are informal, and thus hard for a university to regulate. A vast network of ties exists, mostly based on personal relationships. It goes something like this: a corporate executive, looking for advice, hiring a professor as a consultant to lend expertise; the professor later convinces the executive to fund his research project, arguing that its results will eventually help the company; and once this relationship is established, the company then hires graduate students and even professors to conduct research in its labs. A $10 million research grant from Monsanto to Harvard Medical School Professor Bert Vallee was consummated in this way--although the University played an important role in negotiating and overseeing the contract.

Now, as a current biotechnology boom makes patents and consulting more financially attractive, it is imperative that the University keep a careful eye on its faculty and their relations with industry. The deal involving GP120 and its undisclosed contract signals the return of the problems that plagued Harvard a decade ago. If Essex owns shares in Cambridge Bioscience, did he work on GP120 in the hopes of someday profiting from his work? Did he use his position at the company to influence its decision to buy the chemical's license, and did he use his university post to steer the patent toward Cambridge Bioscience?

If industry's influence on higher education grows, universities can only become corrupted. Knowledge that universities can draw on will be diminished, faculty will be more willing to sell anything, and the academic institutions' independence will be handicapped. Harvard has a reputation among other universities for having the most thoughtful research policy. One hopes the University will put its thoughts to good use by carefully regulating the relationship between professors and business.