Brian Deer says his brand of journalism is impossible in Nature, which demands writers swallow all the legal and financial risks

Like a luxury liner cruising the high seas, the magazine Nature rides the scientific waves with impeccable majesty. Pure class. Forged during the high tide of British ingenuity in the 1860s, the journal is said to take its name from a line of Wordsworth's: "To the solid ground of nature trusts the Mind that builds for aye."

Its list of editorial offices around the world reads like the nameplates of yachts moored for a Davos summit: London, New York, Washington, San Diego, San Francisco, Boston, Tokyo, Munich, Paris. And its three dozen spin-offs (from Nature Medicine to Nature Photonics), plus some 60 other titles in the Nature Publishing Group, shimmer like a grand fleet of inquiry.

But all isn't so splendid when we slip below decks, as I've just had the privilege to discover. Invited to write about scientific fraud, I sent them some sharply honed words, assuming the magazine must be plying a new course.

I say this because science writing is mostly PR: various kinds of puff piece about breakthroughs. "Many middle-aged men experience an embarrassing constriction while urinating. But now, scientists at Johns Hopkins University have discovered ... "

This is the Tomorrow's World formula. Vintage 1965. Much of science journalism still finds itself in the same collective rut.

In my piece I had opined that scientists are no more trustworthy than restaurant managers – whose kitchens are randomly inspected to protect the public. But my commissioning editor told me I couldn't say that in "the house journal of science". I had the impression they felt it just wasn't a reasonable thing to say.

And then came the killer: a five-page contract I would have to sign before I could be welcomed aboard.

You represent and warrant that the Article will not be libellous and will not violate the privacy rights of any individual; and that the Article will not infringe any copyright, or trademark, or obligation of confidentiality or give rise to any legal cause of action of any kind against Nature Publishing Group ..."



Uhhhhhhmm. No.

You agree to indemnify NPG for any losses, damages, costs and expenses ..."



Don't think so.

You agree to keep secret and not at any time either during this Agreement, or after its termination, for whatever reason, use communicate or reveal to any person for his or their own or another's benefit, any secret or confidential information either in whole or in part concerning the business, finances or organisation of NPG or any affiliate, its or their suppliers or customers which shall have come to your knowledge during the course of this Agreement."



I frankly couldn't believe this charter to drown journalism. It read less scientific than Scientological.

Who, uncertificated, would indemnify a publisher? They are supposed to indemnify their writers. They are meant to have lawyers, and professionally skilled editors, who check and advise on controversial assertions.

The guts of investigative journalism is naming guilty people and exposing the confidential, in the public interest. But if you do any of that in the house journal of science, you could be at risk of losing your home.

As for not revealing things I might discover about their group: that's the fiercest gagging clause I've ever seen. I'd be denying myself the right to go after the magazine (or its advertisers, and even libraries) should misconduct later come to my attention. And then, on top of that, they wanted me to absolve them of anything they might do to harm me:

You ... will indemnify and keep indemnified NPG ... in respect of any ... loss, damage, cost, expense, deduction, contribution, assessment, penalty, fine, interest, claim or finding arising from or made in connection with the performance by NPG of its obligations under this Agreement."



The cherry on the corpse of our professional relationship was a sinister denial of my freedom to go ashore. "This Agreement cannot be cancelled, amended or modified, nor may any of its provisions be waived," said the document, "except in writing signed by both parties."

There was all kinds of petty stuff, in the spirit of the above, of more private concern than public interest. I was to agree that they had the "right but not the duty" to credit me for my writing, and, if I'd used my "best professional efforts to re-write the Article per the instructions of [my] editor" and they then changed their minds about running it at all, they would only have to pay half my fee.

"Ask Phil Campbell [the editor in chief]," I suggested, "whether he would get a decorator to paint his house, then ask for it to be redone in different paints, and then decide he doesn't like it after all and therefore will only pay half the agreed price."

So I put it to NPG that they were a shoal of sharks who, if I went beyond the routine Tomorrow's World level of curiosity, would require me to hire my own lawyers.

In reply, a spokesperson for NPG told me the document was "within the range of equivalent contracts". It had not "enforced the libel indemnity clause", the spokesperson said, which was now under review. "We would only envisage relying upon it in extreme cases such as fraud or malicious intent."

"The Agreement includes a standard confidentiality clause, and requires both parties' written permission to end or modify the agreement."

But since I opted to walk the plank and didn't sign it, I'm free to reveal that there's another agreement. Nature emailed it to me by mistake. This is the text for American government employee contributors. And it's free of indemnities and gags.

Presumably this is because the US government would adhere to the first amendment, and might well be constitutionally barred from accepting some of Nature's demands.

Of course, journalists can't guarantee they will always enjoy safe voyages when they report science. But the waters may be even more perilous than they supposed.

Brian Deer is a science journalist. Last month he was named specialist journalist of the year in the British Press Awards