Open in TheBrain

Henry K Beecher

<p>Henry Dale put Beecher in touch with William Sargant</p>

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". Schmidt asserts that Britain’s exploration of ‘truth drugs’ seems to have ‘partly’ come from the United States with a visit to the UK by Henry K. Beecher, a Harvard anaesthetist and former member of the OSS (Office of Strategic Services). Beecher was tasked by his bosses to gather information on drugs and narcotics and asses their potential as weapons. This assignment was part of <b>Operation Artichoke </b>set up by the CIA in 1951. Another of Beecher’s objectives was to identify scientists who could be recruited for secret work back in the US. Schmidt then goes on to discuss LSD experiments with service personnel at Porton Down in the 1950s done at the behest of MI6 who were much vexed by questions of mind control, truth drugs and brain washing,. ."</p>

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What’s your poison? Secret Science: A Century of Poison Warfare and Human Experiments Ulf Schmidt Oxford: Oxford University Press found in&nbsp;

http://www.lobster-magazine.co.uk/free/lobster70/lob70-secret-service.pdf</p><p>Oberursel had become Camp King, the home</p><p>of the European Command Interrogation Center where, after 1948, a staff of ex-Gestapo soldiers and former Nazi doctors, including the notorious deputy Reich health leader Kurt</p><p>Blome, were employed in inhumane interrogations of Soviet defectors and double agents.</p><p>Nearby in the town of Kronberg, the CIA used Haus Waldhof, a former country estate, as a</p><p>safe house for drug testing, brutal torture, and lethal experiments on Soviet bloc expendables. In 1952, for example, the CIA’s Morse Allen—assisted by Dr. Samuel V. Thompson, a</p><p>Navy Psychiatrist, and Professor G. Richard Wendt, a University of Rochester psychologist—would use the site to test dangerous combinations of drugs such as Benzedrin and</p><p>Pentothal-Natrium on Russian captives, under the protocol that “disposal of the body is not a</p><p>problem” (Silver, 1993, pp. 199–213; Pruitt, 18 January 1993, pp. 18–19; Koch and Wech,</p><p>2003, pp. 50, 89–121, 269; Bower, 1987, pp. 254–256).</p><p>At Oberursel, Dr. Beecher discussed possible drug uses for interrogation with six staffers</p><p>including a Major Hart, head of a “brutal interrogation team” known as the “rough boys,” and</p><p>Captain Malcolm Hilty, chief interrogator. All agreed: “It would be desirable for me to return,</p><p>jhbs434_04_20271.qxp 9/10/07 4:38 PM Page 411</p><p>412 ALFRED W. McCOY</p><p>JOURNAL OF THE HISTORY OF THE BEHAVIORAL SCIENCES DOI: 10.1002/jhbs</p><p>perhaps in a year, when we know better the signs and symptoms of the newer derivatives of</p><p>mescaline and lysergic acid [LSD], to interrogate especially high level escapees from</p><p>Russian interrogation.” In the interim, they recommended he work with a Dr. Schreiber,</p><p>Camp King’s former staff doctor, whom Beecher described as “a physician and former</p><p>German general who is now on his way to the States, will be at the School of Aviation</p><p>Medicine . . . Schreiber is intelligent and helpful” (Beecher, 21 October 1951; Koch & Wech,</p><p>2003, pp. 102–103).</p><p>Who was Dr. Schreiber, this ideal partner for Professor Beecher’s secret drug research?</p><p>He was, in fact, General Walter Schreiber, former medical chief for the Wehrmacht who had</p><p>presided over “concentration camp . . . experiments on inmates that usually resulted in a slow</p><p>and agonizing death.” After Camp King commended his “high efficiency,” the Pentagon sent</p><p>him to Texas, where he joined other Nazi doctors at the School of Aviation Medicine, albeit</p><p>only until May 1952 when complaints about war crimes forced his departure for Argentina</p><p>(Bower, 1987, pp. 255–258; Koch and Wech, 2003, p. 94; “Nuremberg,” 28 August 1946;</p><p>“German,” 27 October 1948; “Accused,” 13 February 1952).</p><p>Moving on to Berlin, Dr. Beecher met with a Military Intelligence officer and “Mr. Peter</p><p>Sichel, C.I.A.” to discuss acquisition of human subjects for his plans “to interrogate as many</p><p>high-level escapees as possible as to the presence of significant signs and symptoms</p><p>[of drugs] during periods of interrogation.” When Dr. Beecher’s report on his voyage into this</p><p>intelligence netherworld reached the Pentagon in October 1951, it was, at his recommendation, stamped “TOP SECRET” and not declassified until 1977, only months after his death</p><p>(Beecher, 21 October 1951).</p><p>A year later in August 1952, Dr. Beecher, discarding Dr. Ploetner’s preference for mescaline, returned to Europe where he now focused solely, almost obsessively, on the threat and</p><p>promise of LSD 25. In the year between his visits, Beecher had joined the U.S. intelligence</p><p>community’s interrogation project with a “top secret” security clearance and a Pentagon grant</p><p>to study the “Response of Normal Men to Lysergic Acid Derivatives” (Lund, 26 May 1951;</p><p>Project Title, 31 December 1954). Just as Dr. Ploetner’s results had once heralded the promise of mescaline, so the Sandoz report, provided earlier by the Pentagon, hinted that this new</p><p>drug might open the human mind for interrogation: “LSD 25 can bring thoughts from the subconscious into the conscious, can increase associative activity and, by removing inhibitions,</p><p>can also improve the ekphoric ability.” But Sandoz had also warned that the new drug</p><p>produced “a peculiar personality disturbance similar to ‘split personality,’” and induced a</p><p>“tendency to pathological reactions (hysterical attacks, trances, epileptic fits)” (Rothlin, n.d.).</p><p>Evidently intrigued, Beecher wrote the company’s chief pharmacologist in Basel, Dr. Ernst</p><p>Rothlin, to arrange a meeting, explaining that “we have been doing some work in man with</p><p>. . . LSD 25, which was kindly furnished us by your company” (Beecher, 4 August 1952;</p><p>Beecher, 29 August 1950).</p><p>Consequently, Dr. Beecher returned from Europe warning about LSD’s effect of “severe</p><p>imbalance, hysteria” on, say, “a battleship’s crew.” In a secret report to the U.S. Army’s</p><p>surgeon general, he advised this drug should be studied “(1) as aids to obtain suppressed</p><p>information . . . (2) as threats to security when used by an enemy agent . . . (3) as tools of</p><p>biological warfare.” The latter was particularly important because “the water supply of a large</p><p>city could probably be disastrously and undetectably (until too late) contaminated.”</p><p>Determined that “the United States . . . not get behind in this field for want of an organized</p><p>plan of attack,” he now planned to intensify dosage in his Boston LSD experiments, saying:</p><p>“We need to know the effects of larger doses, of prolonged administration of small doses and</p><p>so on.” Fortunately for Beecher’s plans, a professor he had met in Europe “has promised to</p><p>jhbs434_04_20271.qxp 9/10/07 4:38 PM Page 412</p><p>SCIENCE IN DACHAU’S SHADOW 413</p><p>JOURNAL OF THE HISTORY OF THE BEHAVIORAL SCIENCES DOI: 10.1002/jhbs</p><p>send me for study the new L.A.E. (a mono ethyl amide of lysergic acid). This is said to be</p><p>more excitant to normal individuals than is L.S.D. 25” (Beecher, 4 September 1952).</p><p>Over the next two years, Dr. Beecher carried out these LSD tests using the unwitting</p><p>human subjects he now believed, through his conventional work, essential to serious pharmacological research—creating, for Beecher, a productive confluence of his covert and conventional work (Beecher, 13 February 1953). In his final report on these tests to Pentagon,</p><p>Beecher noted that after administering LSD doses—“as unknowns”—four among the nine</p><p>subjects given the stronger LAE became “mildly hostile and paranoid; another experienced</p><p>acute panic” (Project Title: Neuropsychiatry, 1954).</p><p>In his decade of secret drug testing, Dr. Beecher sacrificed his subjects to the cause of</p><p>national security. During his European travels in 1951–1952, he had sought expendable</p><p>subjects for secret interrogation experiments. Back home at Harvard, Beecher, though</p><p>aware of the drug’s painful effects from the Sandoz report, tested powerful LSD and LAE</p><p>doses that inflicted the trauma of “paranoid” reaction and “acute panic” on his unknowing</p><p>human subjects—a “psychosis in miniature” that, he said coolly, “offers interesting possibilities.” In sum, knowing in advance the serious trauma these drugs would cause, Beecher</p><p>placed his unwitting subjects at risk by giving them dangerous doses dictated by the</p><p>demands of secret research—all in violation of the Nuremberg Code. Yet he also maintained</p><p>a perfect cover, minimizing public knowledge of his military research by publishing a</p><p>single LSD study as third author—and even that was packaged innocuously as last in a</p><p>series of drug tests. Throughout, he sat on influential biomedical bodies, such as the National</p><p>Research Council, setting the U.S. research agenda (Beecher, 1959, pp. 287, 309–311;</p><p>Von Felsinger, Lasagna, & Beecher, 1957, pp. 1113–1119; Von Felsinger, Lasagna, & Beecher,</p><p>1956, pp. 414–428; Beecher, 31 May 1950; Beecher, 13 June 1955; Leake, 7 June 1955).</p><p>When controversy erupted over LSD tests at Harvard in the 1960s, Dr. Beecher played the</p><p>stern moralist, roundly condemning one of Timothy Leary’s colleagues Dr. Walter N. Pahnke,</p><p>for using the drug to ease the pain of dying. “There is an abundance of evidence,” intoned</p><p>Dr. Beecher, condemning such experiments, “that LSD can produce, has produced, lasting,</p><p>serious damage to young people” (Beecher, 1969, pp. 21–26; Lee & Shlain, 1985, pp. 74–76).</p><p>MODERN MEDICAL ETHICS</p><p>This past may have some lessons for the present debate over ethical standards within the</p><p>APA. In one of history’s supreme ironies, this secret CIA research, with its harsh treatment of</p><p>human subjects, seemed to produce its own correction, making Dr. Beecher the ultimate</p><p>victor in this silent, scientific competition. By the early 1960s, as the CIA finalized an interrogation paradigm based on behavioral methods, not drugs, and his defense contracts thus</p><p>dwindled, Beecher seems to have been freed from conflicts that may have restrained his moral</p><p>regeneration (Goliszek, 2003, pp. 179–180). In 1966, Beecher published his famous essay,</p><p>“Ethics and Clinical Research” in The New England Journal of Medicine, citing 22 instances</p><p>of medical research whose human subjects suffered “grave consequences . . . as a direct result of</p><p>experiments” and warning that these practices “will do great harm to medicine unless soon</p><p>corrected” (Beecher, 1966, pp. 1354–1360).</p><p>Initially controversial, Dr. Beecher’s 1966 article made his name synonymous with “informed consent” and ethical treatment of human subjects—a legacy commemorated today</p><p>with the annual award of the Henry K. Beecher Prize in Medical Ethics at Harvard Medical</p><p>School (Countway Medical Library, 2003, para. 1). The award’s 1993 recipient, Yale bioethics</p><p>professor Jay Katz, praised Beecher for “the moral passion that punctuated his every word”</p><p>jhbs434_04_20271.qxp 9/10/07 4:38 PM Page 413</p><p>414 ALFRED W. McCOY</p><p>JOURNAL OF THE HISTORY OF THE BEHAVIORAL SCIENCES DOI: 10.1002/jhbs</p><p>in that 1966 essay (Katz, 1993, pp. 31–39). Typical of this laudatory treatment, a 2001 article in</p><p>the Bulletin of the World Health Organization describes how Beecher drew on his “deep Christian</p><p>faith” to produce “the most influential single paper ever written about experimentation</p><p>involving human subjects” and thereby “played a significant role” in enacting strict federal</p><p>regulations (Harkness, 2001, pp. 365–366).</p><p>Apart from Beecher’s own oblique references to his lab’s ethical lapses, the literature seems</p><p>ignorant of his darker side. Even aggressive exposés of government abuses have hailed him a</p><p>“hero” of medical ethics, whereas investigations of the CIA drug scandal make but cursory references to his early LSD research (Harkness, 2001, p. 365; Rothman, 1991, pp. 2–3, 70–84, 251;</p><p>Moreno, 2000, pp. 239–242; Marks, 1979, pp. 67n, 72n; Lee & Shlain, 1985, p. 86). Today, every</p><p>academic researcher in America and Canada lives under Dr. Beecher’s long shadow, forced to</p><p>submit all research to institutional review boards that would certainly ban the experiments once</p><p>done by Hebb, Cameron, Milgram, and ironically, Beecher himself.</p><p>So what lesson might we draw from the career of Dr. Henry K. Beecher, other than the</p><p>importance of dying before your secret reports are declassified? If members of the APA feel</p><p>tainted by the work of colleagues at Guantánamo and their association’s inaction, then</p><p>Dr. Beecher provides a clear path to ethical reform. Just as he transformed himself from</p><p>Dachau disciple and CIA drug researcher into moral paragon by embracing ethical standards,</p><p>so the APA can expunge the stigma of its association with psychological torture. By using its</p><p>professional standing to endorse ethical standards for its members, and more broadly, to</p><p>define “severe mental pain” in ways that restrains future abuses, the APA can readily recover</p><p>its moral leadership.</p><p>More broadly, recent research reminds us that this Cold War past continues to shape our</p><p>political present. Just this year, a full half-century after Hebb discovered sensory deprivation</p><p>and the Cornell team documented Soviet stress positions, we have the first clinical evidence</p><p>that psychological torture is just as traumatic as its physical variant. “Ill treatment during captivity, such as psychological manipulations . . . and forced stress positions,” Dr. Metin Basoglu</p><p>reports in the Archives of General Psychiatry after interviews with 279 Bosnian victims, “does</p><p>not seem to be substantially different from physical torture in terms of the severity of mental</p><p>suffering . . . and their long-term psychological outcome” (Basoglu, Livanou, & Crnobaric,</p><p>2007, pp. 277–285).</p><p>In light of this troubled past, biographers and historians alike should be cautious</p><p>before rushing to canonize cognitive scientists who worked during the Cold War. If we do</p><p>not investigate this past and the ways that it has shaped our present, then we cannot critique</p><p>and correct. Clearly, history is too important to become mere hagiography.</p><p>https://www.uio.no/studier/emner/jus/ikrs/KRIM2950/h11/undervisningsmateriale/McCoy.pdf</p>