Scene One: A couple of professors with fine credentials publish a paper saying that a drug they tested is superior to competing products. Their article, appearing in a well-known peer-reviewed journal, reassuringly states that the authors report no conflict of interest relevant to their findings. The drug manufacturer’s stock soars. Not long afterward a news report reveals that the study was financed by the manufacturer and the professors hold shares in the company.

Scene Two: The editor of the journal expresses indignation, noting that all contributors must certify adherence to clearly stated conflict-of-interest disclosure regulations. The authors respond that apparently a “misunderstanding” has occurred, pointing out that part of the study was also financed by the National Institutes of Health, and the research protocol was approved by their university’s Institutional Review Board. “In these circumstances,” they insist, “the study did not reach the threshold of a conflict of interest.”

Scene Three: Though perhaps sullied in the eyes of some colleagues, the professors retain their posts and financial connections. The journal declines to banish them from its columns, saying it would put itself at a competitive disadvantage in the quest for hot papers if it did so. The university says there are no grounds for disciplinary action. NIH shrugs off the episode as none of its business.

This plot line in corruption and variations on it are no rarity in real-life American science — though the number of cases that reach public attention remains relatively small. My own impression is that the negative publicity aroused by these episodes helps instill some righteousness in institutions concerned about harmful effects on fund raising and political support for science and higher education. But I may be naive.

The sad truth is that the institutions of science are in general flabby guardians of scientific integrity. The main exception is outright misconduct — defined as fabrication, falsification, and plagiarism — which can short-circuit a scientific career if the culprit is sufficiently inept and gets caught. Misconduct cases can be messy and brutal, involving careers, personal relations in the lab, bad publicity, and legal acrimony. Universities once tended to ignore these cases or cover them up. But there’s a federal agency, the Office of Scientific Integrity, with jurisdiction in the area, and over the past 15 years it has pushed and cajoled universities to pay serious attention to misconduct accusations. And they do.

That’s not the case, however, with financial shenanigans of the type outlined above. Federal regulations require faculty members to report holdings of $10,000 or more to their institutions, but the requirement is sloppily followed and receives little or no outside monitoring. Off and on over many years, Washington has expressed concern about institutional conflicts of interest that might affect research — e.g., testing drugs for a firm in which the university endowment holds stock. But the chieftains of academe have always dodged that issue as, ahem, very complicated and needing further study.

Journals could give a boost to research integrity by barring contributions from scientific miscreants. But they prefer hot papers to nasty disputes. Moreover, when it comes to conflicted financial entanglements, nothing can compete with the major journals. JAMA and the New England Journal of Medicine, for example, regularly report trials of drugs whose manufacturers advertise heavily in their pages. Since it’s out in the open, the drug money is presumably sanitized and rendered harmless.

Science could and should clean up its act. But so far it hasn’t. And it faces no serious pressure to do so. As a result, new episodes of tawdry behavior are in the making. Check your newspaper for details.