“At some point,” a friend once told me, “you’ll learn to stop caring what is written about you in the media, because the only other choices are frustration and anger.”

It was good advice, I think, and from someone very wise who has seen it all. But try as I might, I haven’t been able to completely shake what I think is a rather natural instinct — to care about stories written about me and my colleagues.

I guess that’s because I believe in the truth. I believe in facts. I believe people should never lie. No exceptions.

I also believe, very strongly, that scientists need to be more transparent, accessible, and engaging about the work they are doing — and the ways in which that work gets funded. I’ve always made this a priority.

That is important context for my reaction to a recent article that included quite a few inaccuracies about my work and the work of many of my colleagues. I believe that should not just be my reaction, but that of any fair-minded reader.

I believe in the truth. I believe in facts. I believe people should never lie. No exceptions.

I gave a lot of my time and tried to be exceptionally transparent with the writer — far more so than people advised me to be. That openness was repaid with half-truths, out-of-context quotes, and false claims.

I’m going to defend myself. But first I want to make something clear: While the story includes factual errors and some instances in which the reporter declined to offer important context that she was provided, I still would like to believe these were mistakes of omission and ignorance, not of spite.

I have engaged the publication to ask for corrections. I trust that ethical journalism will prevail.

It needs to. Journalists are vital to our democracies. Moreover, they’ve done tremendous work in identifying instances in which researchers have overstepped their legal or ethical roles, or have exaggerated their findings — the very question that was at the heart of this article. Sometimes, though, journalists get it wrong. And that is what has happened in this case.

I’ve started quite a few businesses and helped bring together amazing teams to develop new medicines and technologies aimed at improving our lives, making the world safer, and helping our four-legged family members too — an endeavor that seemed to be mocked in the story. I run two research labs. My trainees and I have some patents. And I engage with the public and the press when we make newsworthy discoveries or they seek advice on a topic.

The ways in which these parts of my life intersect can be complicated. Harvard carefully vets my industry associations and media appearances –– I am thankful for that help — and all of these associations have been honestly and accurately disclosed on-line.

But if someone wants to take all of that disclosure and weave it into a narrative that sounds as if I am doing something nefarious, it is not difficult to create the illusion of issues where there are none. The article did exactly that.

Within the bounds of what I can say and do under the various university policies, non-disclosure agreements, research rules, and contracts that govern a good part of my life, I have always been fully transparent — more than many people have recommended.

I have published a list of past and present advisory roles, board positions, funding sources, licensed inventions, investments, funding, and invited talks. I update it regularly. It’s not hidden. (I am only one of few scientists at Harvard who have done this.) I’ve even Tweeted about it .

In fact, I have encouraged more researchers and doctors to share their affiliations for all to see, because I passionately believe that such transparency, through the elimination of ambiguity, will protect those who have nothing to hide .

I’ve publicly suggested that we would benefit from a non-profit central clearinghouse for disclosures; there is no such place to go right now for journalists –– or anyone else –– to see every researcher’s potential conflicts.

Contrary to what the article insinuates, the vast majority of my labs' and my trainees' funding comes from peer-reviewed government grants and non-profit organizations, which the public pays for. We scientists owe it to the public to talk about the research and its impact on society.

I have also been up front about what I see as the right and proper role for entrepreneurship among researchers . Entrepreneurship — which drives innovation — is not enough without an active moral compass. I believe I have walked this talk. In my lab, I have often said and written that, “we teach the virtue of science as a service –– the idea that profit for the sake of profit is not enough, and that we owe a great debt to the scientists who came before us.” We address this debt by paying our blessings forward — putting the profits back into lab research, as I have at Harvard and my other lab at the University of New South Wales.

Yes, after decades of work in service to science, I now get to drive a car that I love and live in a home of which I am fond. My family and I are incredibly fortunate.

My wife and I have re-invested the vast majority of our savings into labs and start-ups to support the salaries of the graduate students, post-doctoral researchers, and hard-working staff, who are all doing important work to push the boundaries of human knowledge and make new medicines. I also help fund the cost of the lab equipment they use, the conferences they attend, and the pencils they chew on while anxiously awaiting word on their papers from journal reviewers.

My view of service also extends to my relationship to Elysium Health, which was also referenced in the article. I'm an inventor on a patent that was recently licensed by the Mayo Clinic and Harvard to Elysium, which sells supplements. I had no say in this agreement and I don't want any ties to this, or any supplement company — I'm tired of the industry using my name and my research to sell products. I'm tired of sending out cease and desist letters. I'd rather be focusing on the research.

My wife and I have re-invested the vast majority of our savings into labs and start-ups to support the salaries of the graduate students, post-doctoral researchers, and hard-working staff, who are all doing important work to push the boundaries of human knowledge and make new medicines.

Last year I signed an agreement with Harvard which mandated that any and all proceeds from Elysium Health go to directly to my lab to support the salaries of my postdocs and students. I don’t even see those funds. I've never received a cent. The writer knew that, but declined to include that context in her article. Instead, the story suggests I pocket those proceeds. This is one of the areas where I am asking for a correction.

I’ve also been quite transparent about what I do to maintain my own health. Call me crazy, but it is a proud Australian tradition to take risks to advance science. It was Australian Barry Marshall who drank Helicobactor pylori to prove the bacteria cause stomach ulcers. We Aussies are very proud of him winning the Nobel prize for that in 2005.

Last year I signed an agreement with Harvard which mandated that any and all proceeds from Elysium Health go to directly to my lab to support the salaries of my postdocs and students. I don’t even see those funds. The writer knew that and understood that. But the story suggests that I pocket those proceeds.

I feel it’s important to disclose if I take the molecules I research, but I have been very clear about the fact that I don’t make health and wellness recommendations, and very public about the fact that I don’t endorse products.

I don’t have anything to hide. I am not ashamed. Much to the contrary.

And so I — and I hope other researchers in this space — remain undeterred.

We should want to engage. We should want to inspire. And that requires us to trust people with the story of what is happening on the cutting edge of science.

Those of us in the longevity field have devoted our lives to competing against the aging process on behalf of humanity. And we are hoping for humanity's sake we will make some progress.

This week, 16 of us banded together to form an academy to help fund more research and to speak with one voice. The story of what is happening right now within the community of scientists who are studying aging — and among the people translating that research so that everyone can benefit — is too exciting and too important to keep in the ivory tower.

And yes, I suppose that unlocking it from the tower, and pushing the boundaries of what's possible in medicine, creates moments where some of us are destined to be mocked, insulted, and treated as villains. Caring about that will most certainly lead to frustration and anger.

But if that’s the price of doing this work — to help all of us live better, longer lives and to reach the potential I know our species is capable of –– it is price I am willing to pay.

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Thanks to my colleagues in Boston and around the world who work every day to make this a safer, better planet to live on. And thanks to Sandra, my wife, who runs a non-profit therapy dog organization called Caring Canines – together we care deeply about leaving this planet a better place than we found it.



