Tuskegee’s black guinea pigs

Thirty-five years ago, the covers were pulled off the Tuskegee syphilis experiment conducted by the Macon County Public Health Service. Although it certainly wasn’t the first or last of racist experiments on black people, historian James Jones and author of Bad Blood has described it as “the longest non-therapeutic experiment on human beings in medical history.” The 40-year experiment allegedly studied the impact of untreated syphilis on some 600 black men, about 200 in a control group, beginning in 1932.

The infamous “research” was the brainchild of “The Syphilis Men”: Drs. Taliaferro Clark, Oliver Wenger, John Heller and Raymond Vonderlehr. To avoid the racist label, the project needed – and received – the support of a black institution and its prominent doctors. Both Dr. Robert Moton, President of Tuskegee Institute and Dr. Dibble, head of the John Andrew Hospital at the Institute, enthusiastically signed off on the reprehensible project. Dibble proudly anticipated the hospital and the Institute would “get credit for this piece of research work.” They are still getting the negative credit as no other institutional name was ever affixed to the notorious experiment.

There were other notable African Americans attached to the project. Sociologist Charles Johnson did a study of the county’s black residents to provide the initial data for the experiment.

Nurse Eunice Rivers was the most despicable player in the game. She is the only one who stayed the duration of the project, choosing to continue even after she retired. Rivers played the invaluable role of winning the trust of the men and their families and keeping them involved through a series of tricks and incentives.

Macon County, Alabama was chosen as the site of the study because of the high rate of the venereal disease as well as the accompanying high rates of illiteracy and poverty. When the black men came to the clinic to be treated and were found to be infected, they were siphoned off to be part of the infamous study for their “bad blood.” The goal was never to treat them but to keep them in the program until death, when their real value would finally pay off with the data collected from the autopsies.

In return for their participation in the study, the men were given free medical exams, free meals and free burial insurance. The word “free” should definitely be in quotes because there was nothing free here, as many paid the ultimate price.

The story finally broke in the Washington Star in 1972 based upon information from whistleblower Peter Buxtun, a former Macon County Public Health Service employee. The wonder of the Tuskegee experiment was that it was not exactly a secret. While the men, their families and their communities knew nothing of the contemptible research, many in the medical field did. There were periodic reports on the study to the broader medical community. There was never an active intervention by any of those who read the reports or from those who worked in the public health sectors of county, state and federal government. There were also benefactors involved such as the Rosenwald Fund and Milbank Memorial Fund who underwrote various aspects of the project. They should all be perceived as co-conspirators to commit murder.

The symptoms of syphilis in its advanced, untreated stages are general ill feelings, muscle aches, joint pain, enlarged lymph nodes and hair loss. Because the disease affects the cardiovascular and central nervous systems, the men were subject to aneurysms, heart disease, blindness, paralysis, insanity and other debilitating conditions. Even when penicillin was developed as the accepted cure for syphilis in 1947 and even when some of the men enlisted to serve in World War II, treatment was still denied.

By the abrupt end of the experiment in 1972, nearly 30 of the men had died directly of syphilis, 100 were dead of related complications, 40 of their wives had been infected, and 19 of their children had been born with congenital syphilis. Ultimately, the study had no redeeming scientific outcomes that could be used for the greater good of society.

In 1997, then President Clinton issued a formal apology to the survivors and their families yet all the main characters associated with carrying out the mission of the Tuskegee experiment went to their graves unrepentant and unremorseful about their participation. The families of survivors received compensation from a class action suit filed on their behalf. The pain and suffering of the men and the families who had to watch them deteriorate is incalculable.

The Tuskegee syphilis experiment is an enduring stain on human medicine. The mistrust of African Americans towards the medical industry, as well as the government, remains inescapable and justifiable. Most sadly, it is an unfortunate impediment to black folks fulfilling a healthy body and mind.