Beyond All Repair - Endless Thread's "Madness", Part 5: The Unreachable Summit

Episode Date: March 25, 2025

Dr. Ewen Cameron wanted to win a Nobel Prize for his work in psychiatry. He never got one. He died of a heart attack while climbing a mountain in the Adirondacks in 1967. So we don’t have access to Cameron's thoughts on his own legacy. But we do have his son, Duncan Cameron. In the final installment of “Madness," Amory and Ben sit down with Duncan and explore the shocking ways his father's methods are still being used today. "Madness: The Secret Mission for Mind Control and the People Who Paid the Price," an Endless Thread series in 5 parts, unravels the shocking history of CIA-funded mind-control experiments. This is Part 5. If you haven't heard Parts 1 through 4 yet, you can find them here, here, here, and here.

To support sustainable food production, BHP is building one of the world's largest hot ash mines in Canada. Essential resources responsibly produced. It's happening now at BHP, a future resources company. Support for this podcast comes from Is Business Broken? A podcast from BU Questrom School of Business. Stick around until the end of this podcast for a preview of a recent episode about why innovation in healthcare is so hard.

Hey, it's Amory with the last installment of Madness, the series I made back in 2020 for the podcast Endless Thread with my co-host on that show, Ben Brock Johnson. That was five years ago already, so we have a quick update on where things stand at the end of this episode. All right, here's the finale. WBUR Podcasts, Boston. To our podcasts, Boston. Heads up, this is part five of Madness from Endless Thread.

If you haven't heard parts one through four, you should definitely go listen to those first. Okay, here we go. Previously on Endless Thread. How did you feel when you learned that Dr. Cameron's experimentation was financed by the CIA? Well, I thought that bastard. She wanted her day in court. She wanted a public apology.

That was the most important thing to her, more than the money. And my eureka moment was, here it is. He actually says that he was trying to do mind control experimentation and to use whatever he had at his disposal to do this. And no one seems to want to take accountability for this. I think it's going to be a hard road to hoe. Any words of advice for those attorneys? Don't give up. So what do you have in front of you here? This is a picture of the whole family.

Yeah, there's my father and my mother and here I am, much younger than I am now. What year is this? Oh gosh, it would be probably around. Ben and I are in an apartment in Washington, DC that's bursting with morning light and books, and we're flipping through some of our hosts' old family photos. This is at the Lake Placid Club in Lake Placid, New York,

and a dinner there. Over and over, we've heard from victims of Dr. Ewan Cameron's brutal experiments at the Allen Memorial Institute. Today, we're talking to one of the only people who will stand up for Dr. Cameron, who hasn't talked about this in a long time. I'm Duncan Cameron. I'm the oldest son of Dr. Donald Ewan Cameron and Gene Cameron. Duncan has a very different picture of his father. A whole bunch of them, actually.

You see, he doesn't have a skull. He actually has a smile. He looks like he's having a good time. Oh yes, he enjoyed a good joke. Even if they were off color. In fact, he might have enjoyed those more. In photos, the Cameron family seems happy. A candid shot of you and Cameron that looks to be from a garden party shows the psychiatrist in a skinny tie and jacket, horn-rimmed glasses and short-cropped white hair. He has an open, amused look on his face. Duncan also has an easy, quiet smile. He's in his mid-80s now, but he has fond childhood memories of summers spent in New York's Adirondack Mountains, where his dad's competitive

nature led him again and again to the line of the horizon. He loved hiking, and these are pictures of him. These are both in the Adirondacks on mountains. And this is a picture of with my brother Stuart. And here he is with me many years ago. There's a reason that all the photos of Ewan Cameron are from more than 50 years ago. It has to do with another of his Adirondack hikes that changed the Cameron family forever. Ewan Cameron was fulfilling one of the items on his life bucket list, to climb Street Mountain. Street Mountain is a strange choice for a bucket list.

It's not a very popular mountain to climb. It's steep. There's no clear approach to the summit, only overgrown pathways. And when you get up to the top, it's completely wooded. So there's no panoramic view after all the hard climbing. You and Cameron made the hike with Duncan's younger brother, James. They got close to the top and James looked around and my father had passed away.

It was a heart attack and it was very sudden. And it was a great shock to everybody because he was 65 and in many ways going full throttle and at the top of his career. In the Lake Placid community where Dr. Cameron's family spent the bulk of their summers, his sudden death from a heart attack while hiking was big news. It's really a very moving editorial. You're welcome to pull it out now. Yeah. Okay. This is from the Adirondack Daily Enterprise is the name of the paper. The title is The Understanding Man. Lake Placid in particular and the northern Adirondacks in general have lost

suddenly tragically but in a sense, probably their most distinguished citizen. It is a rare thing that a psychiatrist of his worldwide reputation and capacity should be a resource available to a small mountain community. Those who are privileged to know him, even briefly, will not soon forget the warmth and kindliness of this understanding man. I mean, it's very different than the caricature that you sometimes read in the press. Very different. Today, we grapple with Dr. Ewan Cameron's legacy and how his work lives on. Just not in the way he might have hoped. I'm Ben Brack-Johnson. I'm Amarie Sievertson and you're listening to Endless Thread, coming to you

from WBUR, Boston's NPR, and we're bringing you a special series. Madness, the secret mission for mind control and the people who paid the price. What was your father like as a dad? Well, that's a big subject. At first I have to say that my father was exceedingly committed to his field. On the weekends, you'd think he would go out and mow the lawn or bask in the sun or go play golf or tennis, but none of it. He had patience. I think as much as love that you had for him, you also had respect for him.

Did he have any favorite sayings or idiosyncrasies or things like that, that you remember that made an impression on you when you were younger? No. He had some peculiar, he loved science fiction and he was always very fascinated by what the future held for this hall. Yeah. And I always have a little book on science fiction by the bedside.

Why do you think he liked it? Well, I think he was always fascinated in the future. I mean, he was fascinated with the future in his own field of psychiatry, medicine, and you know, government. He was always interested in the future. If he had a choice, he would have kept living forever. Yeah. Yeah. Duncan Cameron was 10 years old when his dad became the director of the Allen Memorial Institute

in Montreal. He remembers his dad working a lot during this time, which definitely tracks. Not only was Ewan Cameron running the Allen Memorial, but he was leading psychiatric organizations, he was teaching at McGill University, and he was still seeing private patients. I don't know how he did it all. Not just productive, but prolific. Prolific. He was a ray.

Duncan says his father was so busy that he didn't see much of him during their time in Montreal, though he did visit the Allen Memorial on occasion. I think the furthest I got was to his office. Typically, I would show up there, and if it was a Friday, ask if I could have a lift down to Lake Placid. Ha ha ha ha! Hey, Dad, let's get out of here. I can remember doing that several times.

We would take off and he was a fast driver. He had a Mercedes and my job was to look out for the cops. Wow. But even on their long drives from Montreal to upstate New York, Duncan says his dad never really talked about work. Did you ever get a sense of at least some of the things that he was trying to accomplish while he was at the Allen? Not really. Not not really I not I I I certainly don't know anything about

The treatments he was using I didn't know anything about that sure yeah, but I mean in terms of Trying to help cure people of mental illness or anything like that not necessarily his process But his end goal did he ever talk about that? necessarily his process, but his end goal, did he ever talk about that? He probably did, but I don't think I can remember specifics of it. Sure. Yeah. He was a person who was always looking for a way of advancing the field. And in that he took some risks, obviously.

And one of these risks was the treatment that he was using. And he was always attracted to these subjects for which there was no easy answer. And he was searching for ways of doing something about them. And some of them were high risk ones. Sure. Yep. You talked a little bit about this,

but what was the impact on the family when some of this news started to come out about the CIA and some of the treatment and stuff like that? We all very much wished, as we always had, that my father was alive, because he would have had to deal with that issue and would have dealt with it quite effectively. And none of us trained in psychiatry. Duncan struggles dealing with his dad's legacy because he can't speak to why his dad did what he did.

But Duncan is still in some ways trying to defend his dad's honor because his dad isn't around to do it himself. You and Cameron experimented on people right up until he left the Allen in 1964. He moved to Upstate New York, where he studied aging and memory at two hospitals in Albany. He died three years later. But Cameron was publishing articles and giving speeches about his work throughout his life. The psychiatric community could have questioned his methods, but they remained silent, at least until after Cameron left the Allen. Robert Cleghorn, a former member of Cameron's staff, took over after Cameron stepped down,

and he put Cameron's treatment program under the microscope. Here's journalist John Marks. The Allen Memorial Institute under Clay Corran commissioned a study of his work, which is absolutely or almost absolutely unprecedented in the psychiatric field. In other words, they really must have seen that there was something wrong and crazy. So I think the complaints of the doctors and nurses had reached their ears, and they found his work next to worthless. The study, which was published a few months

before Cameron died, found that Cameron's methods exposed his patients to unnecessary risk, and that there was no clinical proof his methods were any more effective than standard forms of treatment. The study also said that these treatments, the de-patterning and psychic driving programs including LSD injection, induced comas, sensory deprivation, and electroshock, had a detrimental impact on patients' memories, which in retrospect might have been part of the point. Cleghorn immediately ended Cameron's program. Eventually, though, it wasn't just Cameron's successor who was calling him out. There was also Donald Hebb, who ran McGill's psychology department at the time Cameron was running

its psychiatry department. Hebb did an interview with a film producer in the 1980s, saying, quote, Cameron was irresponsible, criminally stupid. Anyone with any appreciation of the complexity of the human mind would not expect that you could erase an adult mind and then add things back with this stupid psychic driving. The CIA also turned its back on Cameron. When asked about the decision to involve Cameron in MKUltra, John Gittinger, the CIA officer in charge of monitoring his work, said, quote, now that was a foolish mistake. We shouldn't have done it. I'm sorry we did it. As for the CIA's MKUltra program itself, it never had an official end date. It petered out in the early 60s as the

program's director, Sidney Gottlieb, came to a realization. In the end, Gottlieb was forced to conclude that there's no such thing as mind control and that everything he had done had been for naught. That's author Stephen Kinzer. If Cameron had failed to find an effective If Cameron had failed to find an effective means of mind control, despite carrying out the most reckless experiments in which he was willing to take any kind of a grotesque step in an effort to find that key, this must have helped feed Gottlieb's conclusion that the whole thing didn't exist. Godleaf's conclusion that the whole thing didn't exist. So what led the CIA to get onto this fantasy? Think of all the books and the movies that are about mind control.

There's Edgar Allan Poe stories, Sherlock Holmes stories. There are movies like Gaslight and Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. He said I wasn't an illiterate. He said I was going out of my mind. You're not going out of your mind. You're slowly and systematically being driven out of your mind. But why? Why? This idea of some evil scientist taking control of someone else's mind

is a wonderfully appealing trope, and it's been used repeatedly in very popular movies and books and stories. That would have been the cultural environment in which people like Sidney Godley grew up. So I think in a certain way, they believed that what fiction writers could come up with, somebody could actually make real. The line between fantasy and reality blurred. So it's fitting that today, most of what people hear about the CIA's search for mind control

also seems to come from fantasy and popular fiction. It's in the Netflix show, Stranger Things. — MK Ultra. — Or the hit video game, Call of Duty. — It was their attempt at MK Ultra. — The president's communications director, Toby, is talking about it on West Wing. — MK Ultra.

— Excuse me? — Immortal Technique is rapping about it. — It's like MK Ultra controlling your brains. But for those who have had to deal with the fallout of MK Ultra on a personal level, the fact that the program rarely gets discussed outside of the realm of pop culture can feel discouraging. So for me, the importance of all of this is to get it out of the shadows of pulp fiction Fiction, you know, like the, I mean, last night I was watching-

This is Marion Reed. She's a member of SAGA, or Survivors Allied Against Government Abuse. She's also signed on to the class action lawsuit against McGill University, the Canadian government, and the CIA. It's become so embedded in our narrative, in our pop culture,

without people really understanding that it happened, it was real, it affected a lot of people, and I think it affected a lot more people than anybody even realizes today. Marian was five years old when her mom was admitted to the Allen for what she thinks was postpartum depression. Her dad couldn't afford childcare. So soon after Marian's mother went into the Allen, social services took Marion and her two younger brothers away. Because there wasn't a parent to take care of them. They bounced around between foster homes and orphanages for years, experienced emotional

and physical abuse. Both of her brothers were heavily into drugs by the age of 10 and dealt with serious mental illness throughout their lives. Marion believes all of this was a result of her mother going into the Allen. After Marion's mom left the Allen, she struggled for the rest of her life to regain her sense of self and mental clarity. What started as short-term depression before the Allen morphed into chronic depression as well as diagnosed schizophrenia and bipolar disorder afterwards. She went from apartment to apartment, mental hospital to mental hospital.

She never did get her children back. Marion's mom died three years ago. And the funeral was yet another opportunity for Marion and her siblings to learn more about the mother who had been absent for so much of their childhoods. There was a picture of my mom there, and somebody commented. She said, oh, that's the Jehanna. That's her name. I remember.

And my sister looked at him and says, but what was she like? Did she always have problems? And he said, oh, gosh. She goes, no. She was the one that was going to go and conquer the world. She was not staying in this little town. She was going to go out there and do something. And then she came back from Montreal

and she was never the same. So it was sad. Her life was sad. What we know of Cameron's work comes from family accounts like Marion's, hard-won medical documents and detailed descriptions of Cameron's techniques from his own journal articles and speeches. But some key documentation of Cameron's time at the Allen is straight up missing.

Here's John Marks again. There must have been clinical documents. There must have been records of experiments. I mean, he was that much of a scientist. There must have been names of patients. This is information that may have proven invaluable in holding Cameron, as well as McGill, the CIA, and the Canadian government accountable for what happened at the Allen. But there is reason to believe that these documents aren't just missing. They were destroyed.

More in a minute. With the FIZ loyalty program, you get rewarded just for having a mobile plan. You know, for texting and stuff. And if you're not getting rewards like extra data and dollars off with your mobile plan, you're not with FIZ. Switch today. Conditions apply. Details at fiz.ca. Support for this podcast comes from Is Business Broken? A podcast from BU Questrom School of Business, which asks in a recent episode, why is innovation in healthcare so difficult? What role do financial incentives play and what can be done?

Yeah, I think the problem is particularly severe when you're talking about transformative innovations. Follow Is Business Broken wherever you get your podcasts and stick around until the end of this podcast for a preview of the episode. When Amory and I spoke to Duncan Cameron about his dad, he also told us about his own work as a lawyer. I started working at the State Department just a day or so before Kennedy was assassinated. Oh, wow.

Yeah. Duncan knows how to be very careful about what he says. For instance, he was careful to say he didn't know anything about his dad's treatment regimen at the Allen, which may very well be true. But we also asked him about something else that he was a little uncomfortable talking about. Orlico versus United States, the 1980s lawsuit that ended up giving $750,000 total to eight of Cameron's victims.

And I think you may have given a deposition for that. Do you remember that or do you remember any of— I remember it, yes. And my recollection was that I wasn't able to provide him with much information that he didn't already have. Jim Turner was one of two prosecutors on the case. He was there when his legal partner, Joseph Rowe, took Duncan's deposition. And he has a different memory of how it all went down. The most salient point that I recall is that Cameron's son told us that he'd taken his

father's private records and had destroyed them. And that seemed to us to be a highly questionable action for someone to take. I mean, his father was a very prominent psychiatrist, so that destroying rather than preserving personal papers of someone of that prominence is a very unusual thing, especially for a family member to have done, which suggests it was for purposes of not of closure but of not wanting information to come to light that was in the papers.

No, I wasn't destroying documents. Okay, fair. Yeah, that was just something we wanted to get clarification on. Well, I didn't destroy the documents. Fair. But again, you know, the deposition transcript, you're going to have to rely on that like we did. We definitely will.

Sure. Particularly because we put that question to him today. What did he say? — He said he did not destroy documents that he didn't know about that. — Well, memories fail people. — Mm-hmm. — Jim's right. Memories are not the most reliable form of evidence.

So we reached out to one of the most comprehensive archives in the world, the Library of Congress. And they delivered, with a full transcript of Duncan's deposition from November 1983. About halfway through, prosecutor Joseph Rau starts quoting statements that Cameron's wife, Duncan's mom, made on the record. She said she received 12 boxes of her husband's papers after he died, but that quote, if I had these papers, I wouldn't necessarily let you see them. Two of my sons are lawyers and they say it isn't a good idea. Duncan, one of the two lawyer sons, admits he's familiar with those 12 boxes of papers

and then explains what happened to them. Here's part of Duncan's transcript verbatim. I recall contacting the American Psychiatric Association and asking them if they would have an interest in holding his papers in their archives, and they expressed an interest in doing it. I then went through the papers because I felt that it would be improper to leave in the papers any paper that identified patients, Because it would seem to me or I was concerned as a lawyer that it might be a breach of the patient-doctor privilege. And I recall going through them and taking out several papers that appeared to me to

be identified or could be identified as dealing with a particular patient. Then we brought them down, I think it was probably during one of my infrequent jaunts up there. I brought them down in my car and I then took them over and deposited them at the American Psychiatric Association. But as far as you know now, neither you nor your brother or sister or mother have any papers left that are not sort of public documents? That is correct.

A question that Mr. Turner wanted me to ask was what happened to the papers identifying the patients? Were they destroyed or did you just to the papers identifying the patients? Were they destroyed or did you just take the patient's name out? No, they were destroyed. So any documents that would show the treatment of the plaintiffs in this case were destroyed? I have no recollection whether there were any papers relating to any of them. Well, I will put it another way.

Any documents that related to patient treatment were destroyed? That's my recollection that any documents that related to patient treatment were destroyed. That's my recollection, that any documents that related to patients were destroyed. The main takeaway here is Duncan admitting that he did remove documents pertaining to specific patients before giving his dad's papers to the archives. And he admits that the papers he removed are now destroyed. He doesn't explicitly say that he was the one who did the destroying, though he does seem to imply that it was done by him or someone in the family. With the information we do have about Cameron, we know this. His so-called treatment didn't cure mental illness, and it didn't control people's minds.

But the government agency backing his experiments at the Allen did find a way to make use of his methods. Even though Cameron never gave the CIA the keys to control people's minds, he did give them the tools to break people's minds down. Experimental drugs, recordings on loop, sensory deprivation. Here's documentarian Steven Bennett, whose film Eminent Monsters looks at the real echoes of Cameron's work in government interrogation programs today. If I put one of you, either Ben or Amory, into prison for two, three years, you should be okay because you can have time and space.

You can see out a window, you can see other fellow humans, and you can get a real sense of your own, where you are in the world. If I put you through this program within 24 hours to 48 hours you'll be in a diagnosable psychotic state. That's how quick it is because it removes your space of your time and space. In the early 60s MKUltra director Sydney Gottlieb took the so-called treatments Cameron used on his patients at the Allen and brought them back to the CIA. So they created a manual which basically was for intelligence personnel and you can see

this manual that's been found in all around the world from hellholes to modern democracies and you see this actual physical manual on how to break down the human mind. And Cameron's part of that. The manual was all about how to obtain information from quote, resistant sources. It went on to become the basis for the Phoenix program during the Vietnam War. Under that program, more than 80,000 suspected North Vietnamese sympathizers were interrogated by U.S. forces and their allies. Author Stephen Kinzer, who wrote the book about the CIA and mind control, says after Vietnam, this same literature got used elsewhere, like in Nicaragua, where he was the New York Times

bureau chief. Later on, it became the basis for manuals that the CIA provided in the 1980s to police forces in Latin America that were known to practice torture, and later on to guidebooks for what we now call enhanced interrogation at places like Guantanamo and Abu Ghraib. In some cases, the same phrases reappear all through these. So you can see that the work of you and Cameron definitely informs the interrogation techniques, if we want to call them that, that the United States has been using on its prisoners in Guantanamo and in black sites around the world. Perhaps this is Cameron's most enduring legacy. In spite of Cameron's ambition and prestige, he never helped find a cure for mental illness.

He never won a Nobel Prize for psychiatry. Ironically, his lasting impact would be on how to destroy the human mind, not how to repair it. Cameron's research could never happen today, at least not lawfully. A series of other research scandals in the 1960s resulted in stricter regulation of research practices and a more stringent code of ethics. And in a lot of ways, modern psychiatry has completely left behind the man who once dominated its ranks. This is a hard reality for the family that you and Cameron left behind.

Talking about him is, I mean, it should be easy, but sometimes it's sort of emotional because all of us not only respected him but loved him, and I don't know, just myself, but my brothers. And to see some of the things that have happened are very upsetting. Sarah Ann Johnson, whose grandmother Val Orlico was a patient of you and Cameron's, has a response to Duncan that considering what her family has been through as a result of his father's experimentation is surprising. Would you have anything that you would want to say to Dr. Cameron or his family? I imagine this is very difficult for his family.

This must be very difficult and very complicated for them. I'm sure that they loved him very much and knew him in a very different way. And I feel for them for that. [♪Music playing.♪ Sarah's grandmother, Val, sued the CIA 40 years ago for supporting Dr. Cameron's work at the Allen. As for the ongoing lawsuits, some of the plaintiffs have actually contacted Duncan, wondering if he'd be willing to support their efforts. And I've said I'm not able to do that.

But do you, I guess, do you feel any, even though you had nothing to do with it, even though you had nothing to do with it, do you have any feelings of sadness about, you know, those folks and what they've gone through? And... Yeah, well, I think that I would feel sad about that. And I think my father would have too. I think my father would have too. Which brings us back to a question that no one can answer. Why did Dr. Cameron do what he did?

We put this to Harvey Weinstein, the psychiatrist we heard from earlier, whose father was a patient at the Allen. Complicated question. We all have motivations for the things that we do. I'm sure part of him very much wanted to be the person who cures mental illness. And in that sense, I think his ambition overrode his skills and his ability to do the research. I think he wanted to be famous. But Cameron's extreme measures didn't result in a Nobel Prize or any mental health breakthroughs,

which is why Harvey finds a certain poetry in his untimely death. Here he is trying to reach the peak, trying to climb the mountain, reached his goal, and in a sense that's what he wanted to do professionally, and he didn't achieve that either. Nearly everyone who experienced Cameron's treatments firsthand has since died. As time has worn on, it's become the families of those victims who shoulder the burden. Dr. Robert Cudone It is frustrating. And if you talk about, you know, a story with no end, I think the important thing to remember is that it isn't just the patients who went through this.

It was their families. And so even all these years later, it's part of my life, not all the time, but it's always there. And people talk about the transmission of trauma through generations, it is true. There is no such thing as closure. It's hardwired into the brain. Dr. Ewan Cameron will never be able to respond to the intergenerational trauma created by his work or answer questions about his motivations, whether or not he knew he was part of the

CIA's mind control efforts. But the Canadian and US governments could take accountability for their support of Cameron. And they are still being asked to by victims and their families 60 years later. So why haven't they? The answer might be in the idea of brainwashing itself. Part of Cameron's plan for his patients was to wipe their minds clean, to make them forget their past so they could move forward.

Maybe the people responsible are waiting for all of us to forget. But as human experiments at the Allen Memorial Institute and MKUltra's mind control efforts fade into history, reduced to references in TV shows, video game plot points, there are troubling examples of these techniques still in use today. The victims and their lawyers want us to remember that this story isn't over. And until there's true accountability for what happened

and what is still happening, it never will be. This series was originally released in 2020, so we have a few updates for you before we go. Duncan Cameron, Dr. Ewan Cameron's son, died just this past January at the age of 90. We never heard back from him after this last episode came out. Nancy Leighton, the patient of Dr. Cameron's whom you heard from in part one of the series, along with her daughter, Angela, she also passed away this past January. She quote, departed this world peacefully with no regrets. Her obituary read she was 82. Both lawsuits brought by the victims of Dr. Ewan Cameron are still ongoing. The lead plaintiff

of the class action suit, Julie Taney, tells us that the Canadian court system granted the CIA immunity last year, but they're still suing McGill, the Royal Victoria Hospital, and the Canadian government. They'll be back in court in June. Endless Thread is a production of WBUR, Boston's NPR station, in partnership with Reddit. Josh Schwartz is our producer. Iris Adler is our executive producer. Mix and sound design by Paul Vicus. Michael Pope is our advisor at Reddit. Editing help from our managing producer, Kat Brewer, extra production assistance from James Lindbergh.

Our interns are Frank Hernandez and Kaia Williams, shouts to former interns, Magdiela Mata and Noah Boston for their help on this series. Thanks to Anna Sirianni, Grace Huguelet, Chloe Thornberry, and Rachel Zulicki for their help getting the word out about this series. Thanks to Ben's dad, Kit Johnson, for voicing the part of prosecutor Joseph Rau in this episode. Big thanks to Max Binx Collier for his early reporting on this story. There's a link to his piece in Maisonneuve on our website, wbur.org slash endless thread, where you'll also find our full reading and research list for this series, the books, the documentaries, the historical documents, check it out. And

thanks to Jonathan Hislop for additional music in this episode. Also, special thanks to the American Psychiatric Association Foundation Melvin Sabshin MD Library and Archives. On Reddit, we are endless underscore thread. If you have reactions or follow up questions to this series, hit us up there. You can also go to our official subreddit, endlessthread.reddit.com, or you can email us at endlessthread at WBUR.org. My co-host and producer is Amory Sievertson.

My co-host and the senior producer is Ben Brock Johnson. We'll let ourselves out. Support for this podcast comes from Is Business Broken? A podcast from BU Questrom School of Business. A recent episode looks at innovation in healthcare. Why is it so hard? Listen on for a preview. Here's Jim Rebbitzer, author of the book, Why Not Better and Cheaper?

Healthcare and Innovation. So, antibiotics are essential to modern medicine. You basically can't do cancer treatment or dental treatment or all kinds of stuff without effective antibiotics. It's one of the best things about living in the 20th and 21st centuries. It's one of the best things about living in the 20th and 21st century. And the reason we're talking about antibiotics is not only because they're very valuable, but the pipeline of antibiotics has become dangerously thin. Bacteria evolve, resistance to antibiotics, we need to be constantly developing new ones.

So strong need, strong benefit. Strong need, strong benefit. But the incentives for developing new antibiotics come from the patent system. And the patent system does something remarkable. What it does is it says if you develop something that people want to use, you get a monopoly on that for time limit monopoly at you as the innovator and you get to charge a high price for 10, 20 years. And the lovely thing about that is it rewards innovations not because some influential scientist thinks they're important or a government bureaucrat falls in love with the technology, but because people

are actually using it. They're buying it. And so you'd think that with that kind of incentive system and reward structure, that developing new antibiotics would be a very profitable business because everybody wants to use them. But we have this paradox, this puzzle, that the pipeline has become very, very, very thin over the last 20, 30 years. They're almost guaranteed money losers. So what is that?

What's going on there? The answer has to do with the incentives in the patent system. The market test in the patent system has this great feature that nobody makes any money unless people want to use it. But what's the first thing you do if you develop a new antibiotic? You try not to use it because every time you use it there's a risk that the bugs will develop resistance to the new entire virus. Find the full episode by searching for Is Business Broken? wherever you get your podcasts and learn more about the Mehrota Institute for Business, Markets and Society at ibms.bu.edu