1. The Fabricated Fraudster
A Case Study Analysis of Misconduct in
Contemporary Science
Nathan Agmon
May 1, 2014

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At the dawn of the twenty-first century, aspiring Bell Laboratories physicist Jan Hendrik
Schön was rapidly rising in prominence among members of the scientific community. Although
the young German physicist had only recently earned his Ph.D. from the University of Konstanz
in 1997, Schön had already made a name for himself in the flourishing fields of materials science
and nanotechnology by early 2001 (Reich 44). Some of Schön’s work, such as organic plastics
lasers and nanoscopic transistors, were hailed as groundbreaking discoveries with the potential
for wide-reaching applications in the electronics and computing industries. Furthermore, Schön
produced and documented novel research with breathtaking speed. In 2001, he managed to pub-
lish an average of four to five articles per month with “an extraordinary peak of seven papers in
November” (Reich 181). For reference, Associate Professor David Kaiser of the Massachusetts
Institute of Technology (MIT) notes that even string-theorists, “beholden neither to instruments
nor to data,” would be extremely fortunate to publish seven papers in a year, let alone more than
one per month (Kaiser). Nevertheless, the naïve physicist continued to baffle the scientific com-
munity as he released one grandiose article after another. In fact, Schön’s fast-paced and magnif-
icent work soon spread to numerous scientific journals, appearing frequently in what are un-
doubtedly the two most prestigious of the group: Nature and Science (Reich 1). With all the ex-
citement swirling around about the potentially Nobel-worthy research, very few would dare to
publicly call into question the legitimacy of Schön’s work, and even those that did either felt un-
comfortable or expressed relatively little skepticism, limiting the conversation to no more than
casual speculation among their peers (Reich 199-204). Yet when nanotechnology affiliates Julia
Hsu and Lynn Loo noticed multiple instances of duplicated data in some of Schön’s papers, they
“stumbled across the evidence that spelled the beginning of the end for Schön” (215). This evi-
dence, along with the Bell Labs investigation that followed, would result in the retraction of

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many of Schön’s articles, a revocation of his doctorate, and the downfall of the man formerly
known as the “Plastic Fantastic.”
Schön’s case may be highly unusual, from his rapid ascension through the ranks of the
physics community to his startling collapse into infamy. However, once Schön’s misconduct had
been investigated and brought to light, science, like always, had successfully done its job. After
all, science acts as the “ultimate arbiter of truth,” displaying a timeless skepticism deeply rooted
in its pursuit of knowledge (Broad and Wade 7). As such, it possesses “a rigorously reliable
method for arriving at indubitable knowledge and eliminating the merely probable” (Shapin
120). Yet when we consider how deep Schön’s fraud penetrated academia, and for how long it
was successful in doing so, we begin to question whether the self-correcting nature of science is
as simple in practice as it is in theory. As the gears of the “science machine” turned through his-
tory, had this truth-seeking authority evolved into something concerned with much more than
just fact?
French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu seems to think so. In his work, “The specificity of the
scientific field and the social conditions of the progress of reason,” Bourdieu frames contempo-
rary science as a competition among academics for the monopoly of what he calls scientific au-
thority, “defined inseparably as technical capacity and social power” (19). In this state of society,
scientists contend with one another to be recognized as a source of authority and legitimacy on
the subject matter of their study, which leads to the creation of a stratified system labeled as the
social hierarchy. However, while Bourdieu sets up a framework to analyze the sociology of sci-
ence, he fails to apply his theory to scientific misconduct. For a thorough analysis of scientific
fraud, scholars William Broad and Nicholas Wade, in their book Betrayers of Truth, attempt to
diagnose the current condition of science through its pathology — the fraudulent “fringe” cases

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that cannot be accounted for by the scientific method (8). Unlike Bourdieu, who only mentions
false science (i.e., scientific claims that fail to accurately describe nature), Broad and Wade com-
plicate Bourdieu’s concept of the social competition by highlighting its malicious byproducts.
They argue that scientists’ “thirst for personal glory,” a common trait among scholars, generates
a troubling amount of careerism within the scientific community. For example, even Isaac New-
ton, arguably one of the most important physicists and mathematicians of seventeenth century
Europe, altered the numerical analysis of his data. He consistently changed the so-called “fudge
factor” — a numerical a posteriori addition to his equations to account for experimental evi-
dence — to prove his theory of gravity to his colleagues.1
This desire for personal vindication,
along with a festering elitism among those at the top of the hierarchy, effectively poisons sci-
ence’s primary role as a truth-seeker and erodes its ability to self-correct (210). These concepts
from the social theory of science can be applied to Schön’s case to investigate his specific in-
stance of fraud. However, while both sets of scholars raise interesting questions about the nature
of science, they mainly focus on careerism and the aforementioned elitism, which, when applied
to Schön, cannot fully explain his deterioration from a bright student with honest intentions into
a manipulative mastermind. In light of Schön’s fraud, and within the context of the sociology of
science, I propose that the complex social hierarchy of the scientific community, coupled with
1
To prove his proposed Theory of Universal Gravitation, Newton had to show that the moon’s orbit around the
Earth was qualitatively identical to the gravitational acceleration present at the Earth’s surface. This can be attribut-
ed to the concept that any universal theory, such as gravity, must be equally applicable to all instances of its pro-
posed phenomena. Although Newton initially published an error on his measurement of the correlation between the
two gravitational instances, the next edition of his manuscript (Principia) presented a numerically refined quantity.
Furthermore, Newton purposely used different values of the spatial distance between the Earth and the moon in dif-
ferent sections of his work to force the data (and the correlation coefficient that followed) to support his theory. Due
to the doctored calculations, Newton’s work essentially operated on circular logic to prove its point. Newton as-
sumed one value of the Earth-moon distance to calculate the coefficient, and in turn he used the coefficient to “accu-
rately” calculate the Earth-moon distance with arbitrary precision. (The degree of precision in his results reflected
the amount by which he adjusted the data.) While Newton’s theory ultimately proved to be remarkably accurate (be-
sides minor corrections from Einstein’s General Theory of Relativity), he nevertheless altered his data and analysis
to fit his predictions, which by today’s standards would be considered scientific misconduct (Westfall 751-758).

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strong biases and broken methodology in academic journals, induces multiple social and mone-
tary pressures among its members that detract from and ultimately delegitimize the scientific
process both as an arbiter of truth and as a self-correcting process.
To begin to understand the subtitles of Schön’s misconduct, it is first necessary to under-
stand his fraud within the context of social theory. According to Bourdieu, the competition for
authority, as a collection of previous and current struggles, ultimately results in the formation of
the social hierarchy — a stratification of the scientific community, arranged in an order not nec-
essarily dependent on scientists’ relative levels of knowledge or previous contributions (20).
Those who rise to the top of the hierarchy, the elite, possess the ability to enforce their personal
interests. By endowing certain scientific questions and fields of study with legitimacy, they ef-
fectively select which avenues of research science should pursue (string theory, quantum chro-
modynamics, condensed matter physics, etc.) in addition to which ones it should not, e.g., Bohm-
ian mechanics (Oriols and Mompart 1-2). In turn, scientists at the bottom, striving to gain the
reputation and authority that academia offers, focus the bulk of their energy towards answering
the questions that science, in accordance with the will of the elite, has deemed research-worthy
(Bourdieu 22). As member institutions of the scientific community, Schön’s laboratories fell into
the global struggle for authority. Both Bell Labs and his graduate lab at the University of Kon-
stanz were intimately involved with what are still popular and potentially fruitful topics in phys-
ics: namely, organic (plastic-based) electronics and solar cells, respectively (“What’s Hot in
Physics - 2011”). However, at the beginning of his career, Schön appeared immune to the allure
of power and prestige, which calls into question the applicability of both Bourdieu’s and Broad
and Wade’s theories.

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While Schön had the opportunity to research topics at the forefront of science, the young
physicist-in-training showed no obvious signs of ambition when in the lab. Instead, he exhibited
conformist tendencies, suggesting that he was effectively outside Bourdieu’s conceptualization
of the social competition. In Ernst Bucher’s laboratory at the University of Konstanz, Schön ap-
proached his colleagues with a non-confrontational attitude, avoiding argument and always ac-
cepting their suggestions without objection (Reich 28). As one colleague recounts, “[he] always
used to agree, say ‘yes, yes, you’re right’” (36, qtd. in text). Schön strived to find a place for
himself within the scientific community, regardless of where that place was. By concentrating
only on his reputation within Bucher’s lab, Schön cast himself far from the rungs of the social
ladder that most scientists struggle to climb. In other words, as a graduate student, Schön dis-
played no desire for the authority that Bourdieu predicts all scientists will pursue. Within the
context of Wade and Broad’s theory of scientific misconduct, we thus see that Schön could not
have begun his fraudulent work under the self-guided pressure for academic success. What then
could have caused this physicist to manipulate and falsify data?
To discover the origin of Schön’s fraud, we now consider another unusual quality of his
character also in conflict with Bourdieu’s social theory: namely, the overwhelming amount of
trust he placed in scientific literature. To obtain his doctoral degree, Schön was charged with the
task of modifying the electrical properties of the semiconductor copper gallium selenide, known
simply as “CGS” to scientists (Reich 29). Throughout the period of his research, Schön was con-
fronted by a barrage of messy data that, after initial analysis, disagreed with all the relevant pub-
lications (34-38). At the conclusion of his doctoral work, Schön had ultimately been unable to
change CGS from a p-type into an n-type semiconductor (42-43). However, in one instance,
Schön felt especially disquieted by the results of his experimentation, believing that the other

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scientists’ work was correct and that his own needed some modification. Instead of repeating his
measurements or admitting to this inconsistency, Schön decided to change his method of analy-
sis, slightly altering a graph of the data to fit more closely with the published material. He pub-
lished these results, and wrote that his data were “in good agreement with data reported in the
literature” (37, qtd. in text). While adjustments like these cannot, by definition, be considered to
be scientific misconduct, this early account of Schön’s troubling research practices hints at a po-
tentially substantial vulnerability in his psyche (“Definition of Research Misconduct”).
Just as Schön willingly accepted his colleagues’ suggestions without hesitation, so too he
gave established science — i.e., the postulates and theorems accepted by the general scientific
community — an excessive amount of legitimacy. While scientific theories are generally sup-
ported by an overwhelming amount of empirical evidence, specific concepts are not necessarily
as resilient against dispute. Furthermore, science can never be proven to be true; rather, it can
only be shown to be false. Even if a theory is supported by thousands of experiments, it only
takes one conflicting (but accurate) experiment to completely disprove it. Thus, while current
science can and should be taken for granted by society as a whole, it is of paramount important
that scientists retain a certain level of skepticism even for well-established theories. On the con-
trary, Schön gave so much legitimacy to existing science that he would be willing to alter the
analysis of his own data if it meant obtaining results that agreed with the accepted explanations
of nature. As we will see, it is this susceptibility that ultimately blinded Schön’s conscience and
led him to accept his own misdoings.
The beginning of Schön’s misconduct, which can be traced to his first few months of
work at Bell Labs, reveals the degree to which science has become overrun with social pressures,
some which cannot be explained by Broad and Wade’s theory. After finishing his Ph.D. in Ger-

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many, Schön joined Australian physicist Bertram Batlogg’s team in New Jersey as a post-
doctoral researcher. Unlike the lab at the University of Konstanz, Bell Labs “was known for big
discoveries, ambitious expectations, and a confrontational style of discussion” (Reich 44). These
expectations reflected the opposite of Schön’s personality traits. However, as a post-doc lacking
a secure position (post-doctoral positions are considered temporary by scientists), Schön was
confronted with the dreadful aphorism that persistently torments the whole of academia: “publish
or perish.” Schön decided to choose the former, but his work with organic crystals was relatively
unsuccessful, and the paper he submitted to the Journal of Applied Physics was rejected due to
its inability to “cast light on the physics of any process” (56). Schön now had a choice to make,
as a secure position at Bell Labs was reserved mostly for scientists with significant published
work. And, as Broad and Wade masterfully articulate, when an experiment fails, a scientist faces
a “spectrum of temptations that range from improving the appearance of his data in various ways
to outright fraud” (212). In addition to enticing scientists to commit misconduct through the
shear number of ways to improve their data, this “spectrum of temptations” also endows the sci-
entific fraudster with a range of methods to fabricate results, giving him a marked advantage
over his peers. In Schön’s case, the physicist was already familiar with slightly altering his re-
sults to agree with those of other scientists. However, as a result of the spectrum described by
Broad and Wade, this time Schön exercised a greater variety of tricks from the fraudster’s arse-
nal: writing catchy papers; modifying data curves; and publishing unverifiable claims (Reich 57-
58). Furthermore, Schön continued to deceive the scientific community, now pursuing high-
profile research, as his misconduct ballooned into a sizable series of falsified groundbreaking
discoveries. The vulnerable German physicist had succumbed to the social and monetary pres-

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sures of science, adopting fraudulent practices to falsify data as a means of maintaing his em-
ployment.
Although Schön was completely responsible for his altered results and false claims, his
fraud complicates Bourdieu’s belief that the social pressures inherent to competition ultimately
result in a net gain for science (32). Science had gained nothing positive from Schön’s fraudulent
work; rather, it can be easily argued that science had regressed from this event. In its pursuit of
truth and knowledge, science had instead found itself with an abundance of disinformation. The
field-effect transistors that Schön had claimed to have made were nothing but fairytales imagined
in the mind of a naïve physicist (Reich 47). The social pressures inherent to scientific competi-
tion had perturbed Schön’s mental state, functioning as the spark necessary to ignite his rampant
misconduct. Unlike Bourdieu’s theory, which fails to properly address social hierarchy as a po-
tential instigator of misconduct, these pressures had actually been the driving force behind
Schön’s fraud, and therefore were partially responsible for slowly delegitimizing science as a
credible source of knowledge.
However, Schön had acted out of desperation to hold onto his job at Bell Labs, which
raises the question of why he continued to publish increasingly incorrect physics, and why he did
so at an accelerating rate. While the Bell Labs mangers were excited at the prospect of getting
their employees’ research published in more prestigious journals, there was no evidence to show
that Schön was after authority or prestige. Rather, he appeared to be simply trying to earn a sta-
ble income and please his colleagues (Reich 59). At least, it seemed as if Schön was still holding
onto his old habits. In actuality, Schön’s goals had changed drastically since the time of his grad-
uate research.

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A further inspection of Bourdieu’s theory of scientific competition reveals the cause of
this discrepancy. According to Bourdieu, scientific authority can be thought of as a form of capi-
tal, which can be “accumulated, transmitted, and even reconverted into other kinds of capital un-
der certain conditions” (25). As scientists acquire more capital, either as authority, as recogni-
tion, or as both, their aspirations amplify, becoming greater in scope and in scale (27). When we
apply this concept of capital to Schön, it becomes readily apparent why he was now seeking au-
thority from the scientific community. Although Schön remained relatively unknown after his
first few publications, which were already teetering on the edge between poor data analysis and
scientific misconduct, he soon released an outright fraudulent paper in which he claimed to have
discovered n-type behavior in CGS, the very phenomenon he had been unsuccessful at finding
for his graduate research. Within two years, this paper had made it to the list of the “Five Most
Significant Publications” that had been submitted for a grant from the U.S. National Science
Foundation (Reich 60). Along with a slew of other falsified papers, Schön had acquired enough
capital to become ambitious — so ambitious that he started publishing bad science at an alarm-
ingly fast pace. Normally, we would expect a fraud this great in scale to collapse under the
weight of scientific scrutiny. However, Schön managed to keep his misdoings under wraps for
nearly three years, suggesting that science is not the perfect self-correcting system that many sci-
entists purport it to be.
The fallibility of science lies primarily within the publishing system itself. Contemporary
academic journals are the broken cog lodged between the gears of the scientific machine, respon-
sible for much of the damage to science’s self-policing image. As a system that rewards fantastic
discoveries over good scientific practices, journals exacerbate the harmful effects of the social
competition by redefining the notions of scientific success. Success in science becomes limited

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only to publishing novel results that offer broad implications for the field as a whole. As a result,
the once-cherished legitimate science loses out to the extraordinary (fraud) science that was pre-
sent in many of Schön’s papers.
Although authors Broad and Wade argue that the elite in science and their respective pub-
lications acquire a partial immunity to skepticism, they miss the possibility that such an immuni-
ty exists elsewhere as well. Evidence from Schön’s fraud indicates that journals also have the
ability to arbitrarily grant this immunity from skepticism to those occupying a lower position in
the social hierarchy (Broad and Wade 106). Scientific journals typically reject papers that either
do not possess enough potential to “advance science” or lack groundbreaking material, seeming-
ly concerned less with factual accuracy and more with public popularity (especially within the
scientific community). In addition, journals like Nature that had traditionally focused on publish-
ing papers from biology were now hungry for exciting discoveries from the physical sciences
such as solid state and material physics (Reich 108-110, qtd. in text). Thus, it is not surprising
that once both Science and Nature became aware of Schön’s increasingly impressive work with
nanoscale electronic systems and organic semiconductors, the two competed to publish the
fraudster’s results, printing a “stream of submissions […] of fast-paced physics discoveries from
[the] young Bell Labs researcher” (109). As a result of his apparent contributions to popular sci-
ence, Schön received the same immunity normally reserved for the elite scientists — a sort of
invincibility that, in addition to his growing reputation, encouraged him to continue his now-
calculated fraud. This immunity, granted by academic journals, functions as a means of bypass-
ing the supposedly impenetrable wall of scrutiny and fact-checking. So long as it exists, science
cannot maintain its perceived image as a fully legitimate and unbiased arbiter of truth.

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Schön’s fraud ultimately delegitimizes science through the methods by which he amassed
this immunity — namely, by exploiting many of the vulnerabilities present in academia. Alt-
hough the scientific community had well-established checks against attempts at misconduct or
false science, fraudsters like Schön had learned to navigate around them (Reich 7). Schön was
effectively “doing science backwards” by appealing to the expectations of his colleagues and
fabricating data to match their hypotheses (67). Furthermore, he took advantage of the historic
but susceptible trust shared among his colleagues and the scientific community as a whole (77).
Schön’s use of such confirmation bias — the tendency for people to accept evidence supporting
their own assumptions — played a pivotal role in the success and relative longevity of his fraud.
He essentially created a sort of feedback loop between the academic journals and his colleagues.
As prestigious academic journals like Nature and Science continued to accept and publish his
work, Schön gained authority and legitimacy in the eyes of the scientific community. As a result,
his colleagues placed greater trust in his work and were less likely to call his dazzling yet suspi-
cious discoveries into question. Undisputed by members of the scientific community, Schön’s
papers acquired an immunity against scrutiny from the publishers. Therefore, when would the
need arise for scientific journals to more thoroughly analyze Schön’s work for falsified science?
While journals should always carefully review submissions before publication, the answer in
Schön’s case was almost never. Schön’s fraud thus reveals deep flaws within science’s self-
policing mechanism.
However, as is the case with most criminals, Schön was ultimately destined to fail. Inter-
estingly, though, Schön’s fraud was not brought to light by the self-correcting nature of science,
but rather by the accidental discovery of his duplicated data by Julia Hsu and Lyn Loo. After the
two affiliates had spent some time researching at Bell Labs, they discovered that an existing

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method for printing circuits onto soft materials such as plastic could be used as a means of im-
proving contacts with organic materials. During a subsequent meeting with their attorney, the
two affiliates discussed how their discovery might relate to established science so that they could
file for a patent. However, during the conversation, Loo noticed that Schön’s papers on molecu-
lar transistors contained multiple instances of duplicated graphs. After Hsu agreed that the data
appeared to be remarkably similar, Loo decided to report her findings to a colleague at Bell Labs,
who followed suit. Soon after, a fully fledged committee was formed in Bell Labs to investigate
Schön (Reich 217-220). Within a few months, the committee had convicted him of “substitution
of data, unrealistic precision of data, and results that contradict known physics” (Beasley et al).
While it is now clear why and how Schön committed such massive fraud, one might still argue
that Schön’s case is merely pathological, and therefore it would be ridiculous to generalize the
nature of his misconduct to diagnose the condition of science as a whole. However, when we
consider the amount of fraud actually present in contemporary science, Schön becomes a perfect
subject of analysis. Moreover, Schön’s fraud illuminates how academic journals erode science’s
long-held legitimacy. While peer-reviewed publications are designed to validate new science and
to strengthen science’s public image, in practice they do just the opposite.
When scientific journals publish fraudulent science, they delegitimize all established sci-
ence by introducing the possibility that past results, supposedly verified as correct, could have
also escaped detection. One striking example of such damaging publicity comes from a piece of
software, known as SCIgen, developed by researchers at MIT in 2005. Using specific scientific
vocabulary and correct syntax, SCIgen is able to generate fake scientific papers. Although the
program was created to assess whether academic journals and conferences would be fooled into
accepting the nonsense papers, a sobering result has since emerged. As of February 24, 2014,

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publishers “Springer and IEEE are removing more than 120 papers from their subscription” that
were found to be computer-generated (Noorden). The surprising magnitude of this fraud implies
that Schön’s case may not have been entirely unique, nor could it have been a rarity. Not only do
such instances of fraud highlight the gross mismanagement of certain peer-reviewed publications
and the resultant damage to science’s perceived image. In addition, they reveal how fraud may
not be so removed from science as most people assume.
According to scientist Daniele Fanelli, scientific misconduct is much more prevalent
than we think and than scientists are willing to admit (“How Many Scientists…” 9). In a meta-
analysis of surveys concerning fraud directed only at scientists, Fanelli documents that one in
three of the respondents admitted to questionable research practices (6-8). Furthermore, and per-
haps the most concerning of his conclusions, Fanelli reports that almost two percent of the partic-
ipants admitted to fabricating or falsifying research data (4-6). Schön’s fraud, though only one
instance of scientific misconduct, thus exposes serious deficiencies present in science and in aca-
demic journals. Although fraud is commonly dismissed or said to be nonexistent by members of
the scientific community, its growing presence is a call for immediate attention (Broad and Wade
11-13). As has been shown by Schön’s case and by the computer-generated papers, scientific
journals are unable to accurately determine the legitimacy of scientific submissions due to their
preoccupation with publishing novel and groundbreaking results, thereby stripping away sci-
ence’s image as a self-correcting arbiter of truth. Moreover, Schön’s case reveals the extent to
which the multiple types of social pressures present within the scientific community work to en-
courage new scientific misconduct, fabricating fraudsters even from scientists like Schön who
begin with good intentions. In effect, science’s self-correcting abilities have now transformed
harmful internal forces. While the exact measures necessary to fix these flaws in science may not

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yet be known, it is crucial to first recognize the existence of fraud in science. By recognizing
such misconduct, society can begin to take the steps necessary to prevent fraud at its source.
However, while science may never truly reach the status of an infallible arbiter of truth, it never-
theless continues to help society progress.

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Shapin, Steven. A Social History of Truth: Civility and Science in Seventeenth-century England.
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This paper represents my own work in accordance with University regulations.
/s/ Nathan Agmon