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Research Policy 37 (2008) 875–887

Contents lists available at ScienceDirect

Research Policy

journa l homepage: www.e lsev ier .com/ locate / respol

nhancing research collaborations: Three key management challenges

abriele Bammera,b,∗

National Centre for Epidemiology and Population Health, ANU College of Medicine and Health Sciences,he Australian National University, Canberra ACT 0200, AustraliaHauser Center for Nonprofit Organizations, Harvard University, 79 John F. Kennedy Street,T-232, Cambridge, MA 02138, USA

r t i c l e i n f o

rticle history:eceived 25 September 2006eceived in revised form 17 August 2007ccepted 18 March 2008vailable online 28 April 2008

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a b s t r a c t

This conceptual paper explores three areas of research collaboration: (a) effectively harness-ing differences, (b) setting defensible boundaries and (c) gaining legitimate authorization.The focus is on their potential lessons for individuals leading and managing research collab-orations, evaluation of research partnerships and areas for further investigation. Examplesfrom three partnerships – building the atomic bomb, the Human Genome Project and theWorld Commission on Dams – are used to highlight key elements of the ideas presented.

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The paper provides a framework for systematically thinking about integration of differentperspectives and other elements essential to any particular collaboration. It also sketchesout ideas for (1) managing differences which may destroy partnerships, (2) deciding whatthe collaboration should encompass, (3) understanding and accommodating forces whichmay distort what the collaboration is able to achieve, and (4) enlisting necessary supporters

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while preserving r

. Introduction

For research to contribute to addressing major social,nvironmental and technical problems, collaborationscross disciplines and between researchers and practition-rs (including government policy makers, business leaders,nd community advocates) are increasingly being seens essential. Significant policy attention has been paid tounding such interdisciplinary and transdisciplinary collab-rations. For example, the European Union aims to promote

ross-national, cross-disciplinary and cross-sectoral col-aborations through its seventh Framework Programmeor Research and Technological Development (http://ec.uropa.eu/research/fp7/pdf/fp7-inbrief en.pdf). Interdis-

∗ Correspondence address: National Centre for Epidemiology and Popu-ation Health, ANU College of Medicine and Health Sciences, The Australianational University, Canberra ACT 0200, Australia. Tel.: +61 2 6125 0716;

ax: +61 2 6125 0740.E-mail address: Gabriele.Bammer@anu.edu.au.

048-7333/$ – see front matter © 2008 Elsevier B.V. All rights reserved.doi:10.1016/j.respol.2008.03.004

independence.© 2008 Elsevier B.V. All rights reserved.

ciplinary and transdisciplinary collaborations are alsofostered by funding arrangements such as the AustralianResearch Council Research Networks (www.arc.gov.au/ncgp/networks/networks default.htm) which targetnational priorities and the US Transdisciplinary TobaccoUse Research Centers (www.tturcpartners.com), whichfocus on one specific area. There are also specificfunding programs to enhance industry–science part-nerships, such as Australian Cooperative Research Centres(https://www.crc.gov.au/Information/default.aspx) andthe US National Science Foundation funded EngineeringResearch Centres (www.erc-assoc.org).

To complement these policy initiatives there is a grow-ing body of research on collaborations. In this journal alone,papers have covered a range of areas, such as examinationsof the increase in collaborations and team sizes (Adams et

al., 2005), patterns of collaboration networks (Wagner andLeydesdorff, 2005), motives, choices and strategies for col-laboration, (Bozeman and Corley, 2004; Katz and Martin,1997; Landry and Amara, 1998; Lee, 1996; Melin, 2000),the measurement of collaboration (Katz and Martin, 1997),

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how collaborations are organized (Chompalov et al., 2002;Corley et al., 2006; Hackett et al., 2004) and collaborationsuccess (Corley et al., 2006; Porac et al., 2004; Rigby andEdler, 2005).

Nevertheless there are some key practical issues aboutresearch collaborations which seem to have received littleattention, so that investigators funded to lead partnershipsare often left to learn by trial and error, making success ahit-or-miss affair. This paper starts by focusing on a primarychallenge of research collaborations, namely effectivelyharnessing differences, and provides a framework for inte-grating the core elements relevant to the collaboration. Itthen sketches out a range of ideas flowing from that startingpoint. It first covers differences which may impede partner-ships, and then branches out to two related areas—settingdefensible boundaries and gaining legitimate authoriza-tion.

Although the primary target audience is individualresearchers who are collaboration leaders and managers,the three strands of ideas covered in the main sectionsof the paper – harnessing differences, setting defensi-ble boundaries and gaining legitimate authorization – arebrought together in the fourth section to reflect on theirimplications for the evaluation of research collaborations,both in terms of the focus of evaluation and the processesfor conducting it. The paper also sets out to stimulateresearch on these practical issues and concludes with somekey areas for further investigation.

As outlined above, the starting point is effective har-nessing of differences. Collaborations occur for a rangeof reasons. For example, Bozeman and Corley (2004) andKatz and Martin (1997) summarize substantial literatureon this, citing reasons which include: access to expertise orparticular skills, access to equipment or resources, cross-fertilization across disciplines, improved access to funding,learning tacit knowledge about a technique, obtainingprestige, visibility or recognition, and enhancing studenteducation. I suggest that most of these reasons can beboiled down to one overarching consideration, namely thatthe point of working with someone else is that they havea perspective, skills, resources or some other attributethat contributes something relevant to addressing theresearch problem, either in improving understanding aboutit or in implementing that understanding in decisions andaction. In other words, collaborations generally aim to drawtogether partners with diverse relevant attributes. If welook at collaborations through the lens of harnessing dif-ferences, it quickly becomes evident that the distinctionsbetween research partners cannot be confined to thosewhich progress understanding of or effective action on theproblem. Variations in ideas, interests and personality willalso provide potential sources of unproductive conflict. Ipropose that a critical element of collaboration is to recog-nise that differences between research partners fall intothese two categories. One involves the differences that arekey to and underpin the partnership, which must be effec-

tively harnessed. The second is the differences that areincidental to the collaboration and that may underminethe achievement of its goals. These differences must beeffectively managed. Understanding and dealing with thesetwo types of differences is important when researchers

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want to work together, but even more so when collabo-ration is motivated by funding rather than the desire of theresearchers. Such collaborations of convenience to meet therequirements of funders are now common. The first sectionof this paper presents a framework for integrating rele-vant differences and lays out ideas for how the differencesthat may be seen as incidental to the partnership can bemanaged.

The second section moves on to a related issue, namelywhich relevant differences to include in a research collab-oration. The challenging problems that societies currentlyface involve a complex web of interconnections. For exam-ple, tackling an environmental issue like human-inducedglobal climate change involves altering industrial, agri-cultural and personal practices, which are intertwined.Relevant considerations include economic growth andprosperity, employment, energy supplies, food security,transport, and population growth. It is impossible forany one research project or even program to considereverything that may possibly be relevant. Such a system-based view highlights the importance of boundary setting,in other words determining what will be included andexcluded in any particular research collaboration. The sec-ond section of this paper covers ideas about how defensibleboundaries can be set. This involves matching bound-aries and the objectives of the research, while copingwith inevitable restrictions in funding, personnel and otherresources.

Consideration of research collaboration boundaries, inturn, may raise questions of legitimacy and authorizationand these are tackled in the third section of the paper.First, the objectives and research design need supportfrom funders, peer-reviewers and participating stakehold-ers. Second, research which addresses complex problemsand which aims to involve researchers from many disci-plines, as well as various stakeholders often requires a rangeof inter-institutional agreements about use of data, fundingallocations, responsibility for outputs, publication rightsand so on. Three key challenges here are to determine whatsort of authorization is essential, to minimise transactioncosts and to minimise the loss of research independence.This paper explores the first and last of these, namely ideasabout gaining legitimate authorization, while minimisingthe loss of research independence.

As outlined earlier, these ideas are then used to reflect onthe evaluation of research collaborations, both in terms ofthe focus of evaluation and the processes for conducting it.In addition, the ideas presented show there are many areaswhere the collation of evidence and new empirical studiesare warranted and the conclusion focuses on a number ofkey research areas this paper aims to stimulate.

Three case studies are used as illustrations. Theyare: building the atomic bomb (1941–1945), the HumanGenome Project (1986–2001) and the World Commissionon Dams (1998–2000). They were selected as examples ofvery large-scale collaborations which illustrate three differ-

ent types of partnerships: (1) involving only researchers,(2) involving researchers and powerful practitioners and(3) bringing researchers together with practitioners fromopposite ends of the power spectrum. While these do notillustrate the full gamut of types of research collaborations

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hat now exist, they do tease out one important dimensionf research collaborations, namely whether they are largelyased in the academy or if they also engage with stakehold-rs. The focus here is on engagement with politically andconomically powerful stakeholders, and whether or nothis is balanced by the inclusion of powerless stakehold-rs who are affected by, but generally have little ability tonfluence, the decisions made.1

The Human Genome Project involved only researchers,lthough as the project progressed competition from,ather than partnership with, one company became impor-ant. The atomic bomb project involved researchers andowerful practitioners, particularly the military and pri-ate industry. Researchers at the World Commission onams worked with powerful business and funding inter-sts, such as proponents of companies building dams andhe World Bank, as well as representatives of those withittle power, such as people displaced by dams. While indi-iduals adversely affected by dams lack power on their own,hey had become a force to be reckoned with through col-ective action.

. Effective harnessing of differences

As outlined above, research collaborations can be use-ully viewed as bringing a range of perspectives and skillso bear on the issue of interest. However the differ-nces between partners cannot be limited to those whichrogress the partnership. Differences in world-views, moti-ations and ways of doing things will also provide potentialources of unproductive conflict. Managers of research col-aborations therefore have to deal with two categories ofifferences—integrating diverse relevant contributions andmeliorating problems arising from attributes which arencidental to the partnership.

.1. Integrating diverse relevant contributions

Although effective integration is essential for researchollaborations, there is currently no agreed systematicpproach to the synthesis of understandings developed inifferent disciplinary and practice contexts. Considerationf six questions (Bammer and LWA Integration Symposiumarticipants, 2005; Bammer, 2006a) provides a structuredethod for describing how integration is achieved:

1. Integration for what and for whom?. Integration of what?. What was the context in which the integration occurred?

. Integration by whom?. How was the integration undertaken? and. Was the integration successful?

1 These examples do not include research which has a primary com-ercialisation focus. Such industry–university research partnerships areidespread and the subject of considerable academic interest. Neverthe-

ess, the issues covered here are relevant to such partnerships. Of course,here are other aspects of such collaborations, such as sharing of risk andnancial returns, which are not dealt with in this paper.

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Each of these questions is discussed in some detail foreach of the three case studies. The aim is to demonstratewhat a more systematic description of research collab-oration would look like and how it would enhance ourunderstanding of integration. Because there is currentlyno agreed and organized way of describing integration,accounts of it vary greatly in their content and empha-sis. This hampers the ability of those involved in researchintegration to learn from each other and to improve theirapproaches. Discipline-based research provides a standardto aim for, namely an established way of describing prob-lem framing, key theories and methods. The frameworkpresented here aims to provide a first step for an agreedsystematic approach to integration.

2.1.1. Integration for what and for whom?This question makes clear the aims of the collabora-

tion and who is intended to benefit. For the atomic bomband Human Genome Projects the purposes were concrete,respectively using controlled fission of atomic particles toproduce a more powerful weapon and determining thesequence of chemical ‘letters’ (the bases adenine, guanine,cytosine and thymine) in human DNA. The US governmentand its World War II allies were the intended beneficiariesof the atomic bomb, whereas the Human Genome Projectaimed to provide the international scientific communitywith a solid foundation from which to tackle the geneticbases of disease (Lambright, 2002; Sulston and Ferry, 2002).

The World Commission on Dams had two objectives:First to “Review the development effectiveness of large damsand assess alternatives for water resources and energy devel-opment.” And second to “Develop internationally acceptablecriteria, guidelines and standards where appropriate, for theplanning, design, appraisal, construction, operation, monitor-ing and decommissioning of dams.” (World Commission onDams, 2000, p. 65). The aim was to set in train a processto achieve “development effectiveness”, where “decision-making on water and energy management will align itself withthe emerging global commitment to sustainable human devel-opment and on the equitable distribution of costs and benefits”(World Commission on Dams, 2000, p. xxxiii). Humanitywas the intended beneficiary through this commitment.

2.1.2. Integration of what?This addresses the different elements that the collab-

oration aims to synthesize. At one level this involves theinsights of different disciplines and, often also, practi-tioners. These participants may be located in a numberof institutions and, often, a number of countries. Drillingdown, this translates into more specific elements forintegration—as in epistemological approaches, motivators,visions, values, world-views, geographical- and time-scalesand so on. For reasons of space, the case studies are used tohighlight the macro rather than the micro levels of differ-ences that these projects aimed to integrate. In each casethe collaboration encompassed multiple dimensions.

The atomic bomb project brought together basic science(such as achievement of controlled fission), the solutionof a vast range of technical problems (such as developingan implosion trigger device), and engineering and manu-facturing prowess (as in generating adequate amounts of

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fissionable material) (Rhodes, 1986). Work was undertakenat three major sites – Los Alamos, Hanford and Oak Ridge– plus a number of other venues across the USA (Groueff,1967) and it is estimated that the project involved 15,000researchers and more than half a million other workers(Compton, 1956).

In the Human Genome Project, the genome was beingworked on in sections, so that the synthesis requiredassembling and ordering data from the analysed seg-ments. This had to occur both in individual laboratoriesand across the 20 centres in six countries involved in theproject (Collins et al., 2003; Sulston and Ferry, 2002). Whilethis seems relatively simple, to get to that stage signif-icant advances were required in many areas—“increasesin automation, sophisticated base-calling software, sequenc-ing assemblers, laboratory management systems, and moreadvanced sequencing instruments” (Collins et al., 2003,p. 287) and this project also involved “thousands” ofresearchers (Lambright, 2002, p. 10). In addition, 3% (later5%) of the budget was allocated to social, ethical and legalresearch, which was unprecedented in biological investiga-tions (Lambright, 2002).

The World Commission on Dams addressed its two pri-mary aims together by integrating across a very diversereach in terms of issues, evidence, countries and partic-ipants. The Commission worked on a global level andwas aiming to achieve balance between demands for irri-gation, electricity, flood control and water supply (thebenefits of dams) and debt burden, displacement, impov-erishment of people, and disturbance of ecosystems andfishery resources (the costs of dams). To do this it consid-ered a range of technical, social, environmental, financialand economic evidence from case studies, country studies,a survey, technical reports, submissions, and fora. It com-prehensively covered stakeholder interests in its researchand consultation activities, including “government agencies,project affected people and non-governmental organisations,people’s movements, the dam construction industry, theexport credit agencies and private investors, and the inter-national development community” (World Commission onDams, 2000, p. viii).

2.1.3. The context for integration?Context involves the political or other action circum-

stances which led to the project and which may beinfluential during its life. The context for initiating theatomic bomb project was a major war, where the Germanenemy was thought to have a 2-year head start in develop-ing an atomic bomb (Compton, 1956). Long-term militaryadvantage was likely also a consideration (Rhodes, 1986).By the time the first atomic bombs were ready for deploy-ment, the wartime situation had changed considerably,with peace in Europe and the focus on forcing an uncondi-tional Japanese surrender. There was most probably also apolitical eye to justifying the estimated $US2 billion cost ofthe project (Rhodes, 1986), although Compton (1956) had

previously argued that this was not a factor.

The Human Genome Project was a product of the “BigScience” thinking that was initiated by the atomic bombproject and nurtured in the US Department of Energy, butit was the first time such thinking had been applied outside

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the physical sciences (Lambright, 2002). In the early days,the involvement of funders and participants was influencedby the rival forces of considerable opposition to the ideawithin the biological sciences community, as well as jock-eying for leadership (Collins et al., 2003; Lambright, 2002;Sulston and Ferry, 2002). Although it set out to be an inter-national undertaking, with significant involvement fromseveral countries in the early stages (OECD, 1995), ulti-mately the USA and the United Kingdom (UK) were themajor players.

The project was funded from public and philanthropicsources. An early unsuccessful attempt to establish theproject as a commercial initiative focused the attention ofthe principle researchers on keeping the knowledge aboutthe genome in the public domain (Lambright, 2002). Themost significant contextual factor for this project arose in1998 when a new company, Celera Genomics, issued a chal-lenge that the research could be conducted more efficientlyand effectively in private hands. This led to an acrimo-nious battle in which the company pursued its interestspublicly and aggressively (Lambright, 2002; Sulston andFerry, 2002). There is no consensus on how the Celera chal-lenge should be viewed. Some argue that Celera deservesto be considered as a major player because the companyinitiated a genuine race based on a different sequencingmethod and that its challenge served to speed up the pub-licly funded process (Lambright, 2002). Others argue thatthe challenge was based on media hype, with the under-lying science kept secret and unable to be independentlyevaluated, that it was a distraction and irritation soakingup energy from a project that was well on track and contin-ually evolving to improve efficiency, and that it made littlereal contribution to the sequencing outcome (Sulston andFerry, 2002). In any case, the private challenge meant thatthe project became highly visible, with both business andpolitical attentiveness to the implications of the project fornational economic competitiveness as well as for improvedhealth. Further it became a venue for playing out an ideo-logical battle between government and business, namelywhether the basic sequencing information should be in thepublic domain or able to be held in private hands and com-mercially exploited (Lambright, 2002).

The World Commission on Dams was establishedagainst a background of increasing controversy about large-scale dams and a worldwide stalemate in the building ofdams where opponents were causing delays and there-fore huge cost overruns (World Commission on Dams,2000). There had been a change in the power balance, withthose adversely affected by dams gaining influence throughthe transnational anti-dam movement (Khagram, 2004).This was allied to a shift in perceptions about appropriategovernance, with increasing demands that governmentsconsult their citizens before acting on their behalf (WorldCommission on Dams, 2000).

2.1.4. Integration by whom?

This question highlights that, even though integration

is central to research partnerships, the process of synthesisneed not be collaborative. It can be undertaken by an indi-vidual, usually the research leader, or by the whole groupor a subgroup. Integration often involves a cascade, with

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ynthesis occurring within subprojects and then acrossubprojects. This aspect of integration is often poorly doc-mented.

In the atomic bomb project the overall leader andhe scientific leader (General Leslie Groves and Profes-or Robert Oppenheimer, respectively) were essentiallyesponsible for the overall synthesis of different elementsf bomb production. In the Human Genome Project sev-ral threads can be deduced from the available literature.irst, integration was enhanced by a new funding strategyased on centres rather than individuals (Lambright, 2002).econd, at the most productive stage of the project thereas a weekly conference call between the five main cen-

res “to share technical and experimental advances” (Collinst al., 2003, p. 288). These both meant that to some extentveryone had at least a sense of the big picture that theyere working towards. Third, a group of eight scientists

ccepted “final responsibility for ensuring that each chromo-ome sequence was completed to the pre-agreed standard”Collins et al., 2003, p. 288). Arguably they had final respon-ibility for the integration.

In the World Commission on Dams integration wasndertaken by the Secretariat and ratified by the Commis-ioners (S. Khagram, personal communication, 3 August004).

.1.5. How was the integration undertaken?This is the central question. When integration is aimed

t a product, such as the atomic bomb or the base sequencef the human genome, the process is analogous to assem-ling a jigsaw. When the research collaboration has lessoncrete aims, such as assisting a better decision-makingrocess, integration becomes more complex. At this stagehere is no definitive account of methodologies, althoughtarting points have been identified, including risk-benefitnalyses, modelling, and deliberative approaches amongtakeholders (Klein, 1990; Rossini and Porter, 1979).

Although the World Commission on Dams did not spec-fy the integrative techniques it employed, it laid out anntegrative framework for decision making about futureams and probably used many of these processes in its ownork. The framework eschewed a “balance sheet” approach

o assessing costs and benefits in favour of multi-criterianalysis. A guiding vision was proposed for the integra-ion, namely a globally accepted framework of norms aboutuman rights, social development and environment, asell as economic co-operation, based on United Nationseclarations and principles. The framework also favouredegotiation and consensus based on pre-determined pri-rities and principles. Certainly the Commission reportas a consensus document, supported by all the Commis-

ioners (World Commission on Dams, 2000). The Worldommission on Dams demonstrated that, in dealing withower imbalances, consideration of values becomes essen-ial. When power among the collaborators is more even,alues are more easily ignored, marginalized or taken for

ranted.

.1.6. Was the integration successful?This is a question with multiple dimensions. For projects

iming at a product, at least some aspects of success are

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relatively easy to define and evaluate, especially in termsof whether the product was achieved on time and on bud-get. In the case of the atomic bomb project, cost was not anissue, but timing was. The project was successful in deliv-ering the product before the war ended. However, even so,debate about the morality of its use means that evaluatingthe accomplishment becomes more problematic.

For the Human Genome Project, Collins et al. (2003)present a table of goals and achievements, demonstratingthat much more was accomplished than originally planned.They also argued that the highly polished sequence wasattained 2 years ahead of schedule. In terms of costs,these were originally projected at $3 billion (Collins et al.,2003). Lambright (2002) calculated that the US alone spentmore than $3.3 billion, but notes that this covered severalyears of testing and improving techniques, often throughgene sequencing of other organisms (Lambright, 2002;Sulston and Ferry, 2002). The project either came in overor considerably under budget depending on whether thedevelopmental costs are included or ignored (Collins et al.,2003; Lambright, 2002). It is worth noting that during thekey period for sequencing the human genome (1998–2001),the publicly and privately funded teams are estimated tohave spent similar amounts, suggesting that there wereno efficiencies from conducting the research in the privatesphere (Lambright, 2002). In the US, there were also suc-cessful outcomes from the research into legal, ethical andsocial issues, with training provided for judges on the issuesand the passage of genetic non-discrimination bills (Collinset al., 2003). Most significantly, the Human Genome Projecthas started to deliver on its promise of new insights intodisease (e.g. Daiger, 2005).

There are even more complexities in assessing thesuccess of the World Commission on Dams, where the out-comes were less tangible. The Commission saw its work asthe first step in a longer-term reconsideration of dams, withthe Chair assessing the outcome as follows: “Through thisprocess a shared understanding and truth began to emerge,and with it the thin thread with which to sew the stitchesof reconciliation” (World Commission on Dams, 2000, p.iii). The fact that the Commissioners, representing a rangeof interests, were able to produce a consensus report isa positive outcome, which was followed by another inthe rapid establishment of the United Nations Environ-ment Programme Dams and Development project (seewww.unep.org/DAMS) and in widespread discussion aboutthe report (World Commission on Dams, 2001 and seewww.dams.org/report/reaction/). As yet there has been noevaluation of the impact of the Commission’s work on thebuilding of new dams or on the re-evaluation of existingones, although there is evidence that governments, fundersand builders for at least some new dams are ignoring theCommission findings (Giles, 2006). More importantly, it isnot clear what a fair expectation of impact is when the goalsare political and aim to rectify long-standing inequalities.

The success of the Commission can also be assessed in

terms of the research process. There was widespread praisefor the Commission’s extensive work and for its broaden-ing of considerations deemed to be relevant. There wasalso criticism centring on inadequate consideration of thebenefits of dams, and on the impracticality of its proposed

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ways forward (see http://www.dams.org/report/reaction/).Again this begs the question of what can fairly be expected,keeping in mind resource limitations.

2.1.7. Summary of integrationIn terms of a chief aim of research collaboration, which

is to integrate diverse knowledge, perspectives and skills,a significant challenge for research managers is that thereis only a murky appreciation of what synthesis involvesand how it can be achieved in different projects (Bammer,2005). The six questions outlined above provide a stan-dard way of describing and thinking about integration. Theexamples illustrate the kinds of information these ques-tions elicit on a macro level. For any specific collaborativeproject much more detailed descriptions would be possible.These help research collaboration leaders and managers, aswell as those involved in the collaboration, to think moreclearly about what they are trying to achieve and howthey are going about it. Furthermore, documentation andsharing of these insights within the research communityprovides the substrate for learning how to more effectivelyachieve the core integrative tasks of research collaboration.

2.2. Ameliorating problems from incidental attributes

A linked challenge for research managers is that the dif-ferences between partners are not confined to those whichprogress the collaboration. There are also differences in per-sonal attributes, incentives required, conceptualisations ofresearch, working style and other attributes which can leadto unproductive conflict. The task for research managers isnot to eliminate disagreements and competition, which canprovide a vital stimulus to creativity, but to minimise thetensions and disputes which prevent people from work-ing together constructively. There are two strategies whichmay be useful here. One is to foster reciprocity. The secondis to build on a broad sweep of knowledge about person-ality differences, conflict resolution, building trust and soon, which has been gained in business, community devel-opment and other areas (e.g. Gray, 1989; Hackman, 1990;Mandell, 2001; Winer and Ray, 1994). The main problemhere is that this knowledge is not compiled in any singleplace as a resource for research managers.

2.2.1. Fostering reciprocityThis has two aspects. First is the precept that part-

ners treat each other as they wish to be treated. Thisprovides a general foundation for satisfactory working rela-tionships based on trust and respect, as well as laying theway to solving problems through principle-based nego-tiation which seeks fair solutions. The second aspect isthat rewards resulting from the research collaboration areallocated commensurately across the research partners, inproportion to their contributions.

The principle of reciprocity does not exclude com-petition, which is an important motivator. Within any

collaboration, there is likely to be a degree of competitionbetween partners for funding or other resources, for dom-inance of ideas, and for recognition. The partners are alsolikely to be competing in spheres outside the particular col-laboration, such as funding for other projects. Reciprocity

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plays out here in the avoidance of duplicity. The challengeis to exploit the benefits of the energy and striving forexcellence associated with competition, while maintainingmutual respect and minimising underhand behaviour andanimosity.

The Human Genome Project illustrates both types ofcompetition. Friendly but fierce competition between thepublicly funded centres sparked productivity and inno-vation (Collins et al., 2003; Sulston and Ferry, 2002). Onthe other hand, although attempts were made to form apartnership with the private company, Celera Genomics,the fundamentally different interests of public and privateresearch were a barrier to reciprocity.

2.2.2. Building on knowledge about managing peopleOnly a flavour of potentially useful ways of dealing

with problematic differences can be given here. Somesimple techniques can be surprisingly effective. Person-ality assessments (such as the Myers Briggs typology;Myers and Myers, 1993), commonly used in team build-ing, often result in conflict melting away, as participantsrealise that the annoying behaviours of others are notdesigned to be provocative but simply reflect different psy-chological make-up and orientation to the world. Enhancedunderstanding can also ameliorate conflict arising from dif-ferences in cultural norms, mental models (Senge, 1990),emotional intelligence (Goleman, 1995), and team roleskills (Belbin, 1993). De Bono’s “six thinking hats” (1999)provide a way for teams to systematically explore prob-lems from all angles, circumventing unproductive debatesand arguments. Principled negotiation, which focuses ondifferences in interests, is an effective tool for much disputeresolution. It concentrates on creative problem solving andfair accommodation of diverse interests (Fisher et al., 1991;Gray, 1989; Ury, 1993). Promising tools are also being devel-oped to assess trust (Cummings and Bromiley, 1996; Walkerand Smith, 2001). The challenge is to make this informa-tion accessible by bringing the best methods together inone place. Ongoing development and evaluation of strate-gies for helping people work together effectively remains akey research gap.

2.3. Summary of harnessing differences

Overall, researchers who are leading and managing col-laborations have to deal with two categories of differences.One is to integrate diverse relevant contributions. The sec-ond is to pay conscious attention to differences incidentalto the partnership to prevent them from interfering withthe effectiveness of the collaboration. The aim of this sec-tion has been to provide researchers with a systematic wayof thinking about the challenges of harnessing differencesand perhaps some new insights. Each area is ripe for fur-ther development. A standardized approach to describing

deepening understanding of integrative concepts and tech-niques. In addition, developing, employing and evaluatingstrategies for dealing with unproductive incidental differ-ences is a fertile area for collation of what is known and forfurther investigation.

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. Setting defensible boundaries

Consideration of how to harness differences raises ques-ions about which differences – in terms of disciplinary andractice perspectives – to include in the research collabora-ion. How can a research manager tell what all the relevanterspectives are likely to be? Given that no research cane fully comprehensive, how should they decide where theoundaries are set? How can they best cope with the dis-ortions introduced by inevitable limitations, such as a setmount of funding and restricted access to personnel?

These are questions that all collaborative research faces,owever explicit attention to boundary setting seems to bencommon and again there does not seem to be a readilyvailable compilation of concepts and methods for researchanagers to both draw and build on. The aim here is to

ighlight some pivotal issues about the complexities ofoundary setting and the management of inescapable dis-ortions. Attention is drawn to the literature on scopingnd two sets of questions which can assist in the settingf boundaries are presented (Section 3.1). The cases arehen used to illustrate the inevitable tension between what

research collaboration might ideally like to undertakend what practicalities, such as funding and the availabil-ty of researchers with the necessary skills, allow (Section.2). Finally, an important, but often overlooked, aspect ofoundary setting in collaborations is to nurture and protecthe creative element in research. Focusing on the routinepplication of technical skills and on tightly defined deliver-bles can mean that opportunities to take creative risks areliminated. Another way of putting this is that mining whats known without replenishing the stock of knowledge willimit the ability of research to contribute to problem solvingn the long term (Section 3.3).

.1. Considerations for setting defensible boundaries

Two areas of existing research provide useful start-ng points for thinking about how to set defensibleoundaries—scoping and Critical Systems Heuristics. Scop-

ng processes have been developed in the environmentalciences (e.g. Executive Office of the President, Council onnvironmental Quality, 1981), and are slowly being adoptedlsewhere (Bammer, 2006b). These generally focus on iden-ifying and engaging stakeholders to highlight the arrayf dimensions the project covers and to determine whathe extent of the project should be. Analytical descrip-ions of scoping processes are still relatively uncommonnd most focus on prescriptions for managing participatoryrocesses, especially when there is disagreement betweentakeholders. Again a series of questions can provide a use-ul starting point (Bammer, 2006b):

1. What is known about the problem?. What can different interest groups and academic disci-

plines contribute to addressing this problem?

. What areas are contentious?. What are the big picture issues? In other words, what are

the political, social and cultural aspects of the problem?

and

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5. Why is this problem on the agenda now?6. What support and resources are likely to be available for

tackling the problem?7. What parts of the problem are already well covered and

where are the areas of greatest need?8. Where can the most strategic interventions be made?

The first four questions help identify the dimensions ofthe problem, while the last four help set priorities.

Ulrich’s Critical Systems Heuristics (2005) providesthe second useful approach to boundary setting, throughanother helpful set of questions that can be adaptedto thinking about boundaries in research collaborations.There are some overlaps with the questions above, butUlrich’s provide a different focus. They highlight four areasfor consideration when setting boundaries:

1. the motivation for the collaboration,2. the sources of power in the collaboration,3. the sources of knowledge for the collaboration, and4. the sources of legitimation for the collaboration.

In thinking about the motivation for the collabora-tion, key questions for determining the boundaries are:Whose interests ought to be served? What should theconsequences of the research be? How should success bemeasured?

In thinking about sources of power, key questions are:Who ought to be the decision maker, i.e. to be able tochange the measures of success? What resources and otherconditions of success should the decision maker control?What conditions should the decision maker not have con-trol over?

In terms of sources of knowledge: What should countas relevant knowledge and know-how and what should beits role? Who should be involved? Who or what guaranteesthat the findings will be implemented?

Finally, in terms of sources of legitimation, key questionsfor determining the boundaries are: Who should argue thecase for those who are affected by the research but whocannot speak for themselves (this can include non-humannature)? How are those who cannot speak for themselvestreated in the research? What should the visions of successof those involved and those affected be and how shoulddiffering visions be dealt with?

Ulrich suggests that these questions are asked not onlyin the ‘ought’ mode, as outlined above, but also in the ‘is’mode—so that the current situation regarding the researchcollaboration can be compared with an ideal (or at leastimproved) situation.

In essence, defensible boundaries suit the objectives ofthe project. The two sets of questions presented above allowthe objectives to be clarified, as well as who is responsi-ble for achieving them. This overlaps with some of the keyissues in integration and can provide a helpful iterationwith those issues.

On the basis of these questions, the World Commis-sion on Dams provides an excellent example of many ofthe aspects of defensible boundary setting. It consider-ably broadened the range of issues deemed relevant, forexample, exploring alternatives to building large dams in

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order to achieve irrigation, electricity, flood control andwater supply and including a strong human rights aspectto its development of a framework for future considera-tions about dam building and decommissioning. Anotherparticular strength was its consideration of both pro- andanti-dam interests. As outlined above, the Commissionwas remarkable in including a comprehensive range ofplayers in its research and consultation activities (WorldCommission on Dams, 2000).

A particular strength of the World Commission on Damswas the explicit stance taken on values. Midgley (2000)and others have highlighted that boundary judgements andvalues are intimately connected. This is also illustrated bythe Human Genome Project in the clash of values aboutwhether the information about how the four ‘letters’ whichcomprise DNA are sequenced in human chromosomesshould be in the public domain or able to be commercial-ized. In this case each side essentially set the boundaries toexclude the other.

3.2. Managing inevitable restrictions

The linked task for research managers in setting defen-sible boundaries involves balancing what the project isaiming to achieve with inevitable restrictions. The focushere is on the first step of highlighting the range of restric-tions that may become important. Cataloguing successfulmanagement techniques is a significant task for futureresearch.

Two very common limitations are funding and time, asit is rare for projects to have bottomless money and endlesstime available. The achievements of the World Commissionon Dams are particularly remarkable when the tight 2-yeartime frame and limited budget (just under $US10 mil-lion) are taken into consideration (Scudder, 2001). Anothercommon limitation is personnel availability. Most researchmanagers will recognise difficulties recruiting team inves-tigators with the right skill set and the right level ofseniority, as well as in finding practitioner stakeholderswilling to be ‘engaged’.

There are also a range of other restrictions which canapply to particular collaborations. High-profile projectscan also be subjected to political pressure which canaffect the boundaries. One illustration comes from theWorld Commission on Dams where the non-replacementof Chinese Commissioner Shen Gouyi, after her resigna-tion, meant not only that that country distanced itselffrom the project, but also that the opportunity to conducta key study on Chinese government-supported resettle-ment rehabilitation was lost (Scudder, 2001). Politicalpressure was also important in the Human Genome Project.The publicly funded researchers were forced to sharecredit with the private company, Celera Genomics, throughdirect intervention by the US President (Sulston and Ferry,2002).

On a different scale, power imbalances between disci-

plines and practice areas or between individuals can alsodistort the project boundaries. In the atomic bomb project,for example, the dominance of physical scientists, engi-neers and the military, plus the context of war, meantthat the full range of social and ethical considerations was

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not seriously brought into play until after the first bombswere deployed (Rhodes, 1986). Power imbalances can resulteither in exclusion, as the previous example illustrates, orin marginalization, where an issue is partly but not fullyembraced. The atomic bomb project also provides an exam-ple of marginalization in terms of consideration given toenvironmental impacts. Despite considerable environmen-tal damage at many sites, the only reported investigationwas into concern that plutonium production at Washing-ton State’s Hanford site might pollute the Columbia Riverand affect the salmon catch. Although environmental con-sciousness at that time was still low, it was felt that the localpopulation would react to an impact on salmon fishing. Thefear was that this might make them, and perhaps the wholecountry, more aware of the atomic bomb project and theymight turn against it (Groueff, 1967).

Finally, this last example shows that idiosyncrasies canalso play a role. The military leader of the atomic bombproject, General Leslie Groves, was the person who orderedthe investigation into Columbia River’s salmon catch. Aswell as the potential political issues, his concern was prob-ably also influenced by his father’s tales which had invokeda boyhood fascination with the fish (Groueff, 1967).

3.3. Nurturing and protecting the creative element inresearch

Like Thomas Alva Edison’s aphorism on genius, researchalso “is one per cent inspiration and ninety-nine per cent per-spiration”. Research requires a high degree of specialisedskill – whether it is designing and analysing surveys, cultur-ing cells in the laboratory, building mathematical models,or scrutinising historical text – and the routine applicationof these skills is the mainstay of research activity. In bring-ing together diverse players to address complex issues,it can be tempting to concentrate on putting specialisedskills to well-defined uses and to tightly schedule outputs.Yet, the creative spark requires opportunities to take risksand, often, to learn from failure. Put another way, a majorthrust of collaborative research is often to apply what isknown rather than to generate new understandings. It canbe more challenging and time-consuming to set bound-aries so that new knowledge is produced and that this isdefensible.

The Human Genome Project struggled most with thistension as its foundation was a highly mechanical activity.Nonetheless, there were “truly exciting scientific challenges”inherent in “the very scale of the problem, along with theneed to develop new technologies, new approaches to automa-tion, and new computational strategies” (Collins et al., 2003,p. 286). Starting the identification of gene combinationspotentially involved in disease (Sulston and Ferry, 2002)most probably also maintained innovation.

3.4. Summary of setting defensible boundaries

In terms of setting defensible boundaries, therefore,research collaborations could be assisted by the compi-lation of tools that help research managers think aboutthe overall scope of the project, and by critical analy-sis of how well these tools work in practice. It may also

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e useful for researchers, especially those new to man-ging collaborations, to have a better understanding ofnevitable restrictions, which in turn may lead to more sys-ematic sharing of strategies for coping with them. Further,he particular case of balancing the conflicting require-

ents of specified outcomes and creativity is a centralhallenge for research managers and policy makers, requir-ng additional attention in large-scale complex projects.esearch into all these issues would be both timely andpposite.

. Gaining legitimate authorization

Attention to boundaries, and especially the inclusionf powerful stakeholders in research, in turn leads toonsiderations of legitimacy and authorization. Anothermpetus is increasingly diversified sources of researchunding. Previously, peer-review was the primary autho-ization mechanism, endorsing the investigation and theollaborations encompassed. However, the vast resourcesnd extent of collaborations involved in mega-projectsave always required additional sanction and make theeed for external legitimation plain. Further they demon-trate that authorization comes at a cost, with at leastome restriction on research independence. They high-ight issues that are becoming increasingly common inraditional research, where such restrictions were gener-lly relatively minor, usually shaping an investigation toeet funding priorities. Today’s diverse research funding

ase, particularly the prominence of commercial inter-sts and government demands for research relevance,ncreasingly challenges research independence. Anothermportant issue for research collaboration leaders and

anagers is, therefore, working out what level of autho-ization is needed, how to procure it, and how to minimisehe strings attached. Thinking about this challenge isess advanced than about the first two challenges, hencehe focus here is on what can be learnt from the casetudies.

The three cases illustrate different authorization dilem-as. The atomic bomb project is an example of a

traight-forward trade-off, gaining high-level authoriza-ion, from the US President, in exchange for militaryontrol and extensive secrecy. The Human Genome Projecthows what happens when opposing research groups, inhis case in the public and private sectors, use conflict-ng authorizations. A side story in the Human Genomeroject is also instructive. The attempt to establishn overarching international Human Genome Organiza-ion (HUGO) demonstrates failed authorization. Both thetomic bomb and the Human Genome projects wereesearch-led, with the research community taking theead in seeking authorization. They were both scientif-cally ‘ripe’ for advancement because the underpinningnowledge had advanced to a stage where the scien-ists saw these mega-projects as a feasible next step.

he World Commission on Dams illustrates a differ-nt and more complex authorization process, whereesearchers were only minority players, although theyere significant in undertaking the work of the Commis-

ion. There is also less information about the trade-offs

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although there are clear areas for further investiga-tion.

4.1. The atomic bomb project: trading independence forauthorization

In building the atomic bomb, the focus was on gainingauthorization from the US President. This was a protractedprocess, largely involving influential scientists, who,individually and collectively, lobbied and worked throughthe National Academy of Sciences and key committees(Compton, 1956; Rhodes, 1986). The President had legiti-macy because of his elected status, official power, fundingclout and ultimate control of the military. At the time whenauthorization was sought (1939–1941), the US was notinvolved in World War II and sentiment against joining thewar was strong. Seeking popular or Congressional supportwould therefore have been futile. There were severalother reasons for seeking Presidential-level authorization,including the likely cost of the project, the daring ofthe idea and the potential military, social and economicapplications.

Research independence was curbed by the impositionof military control on the project. There were ongoing ten-sions between scientific and military ways of operatingwhich the military and scientific leaders had to manage.For example, a balance had to be attained between theneed for secrecy and the scientific exchange of informa-tion. Further, at Los Alamos Professor Oppenheimer had tofight off attempts to force the scientists to become commis-sioned officers, and the scientists and their families hadto adapt to living behind barbed wire, even though thisreminded some of the European emigres of concentrationcamps (Rhodes, 1986). There are also tantalizing sugges-tions that the research was significantly shaped by thesearrangements. For example, Groueff (1967, p. 181) states“purely academic scientists were given fantastic amounts ofmoney for their laboratories, unlimited supplies of materialand personnel, then were told to succeed at any cost. . . . Neg-ative results were not acceptable; even when they offered greattheoretical value, they could not be taken into consideration.”But no examples are given. Further, Rhodes (1986) arguesthat, once the atomic bomb project was agreed to, scientistswere denied any power in the project and could only choosewhether they helped build it or not. This became evi-dent when the commercial company, (then) EI du Pont deNemours was enlisted to produce plutonium in commercialquantities. This led to “near rebellion” among the scientistswho had expected the “right” to keep the project under theirown direction until they could “present it to the world as acompleted achievement” (Compton, 1956, p. 109). Finally, itis not surprising that the deployment of the uranium- andplutonium-fuelled bombs and the exploitation of the polit-ical advantage were not in the scientists’ hands. However,in some contradiction to Rhodes’ argument, the opinionsof key scientists were sought. They concurred with the

bombing, especially as they had not been able to convincethemselves that any alternative would demonstrate thepower of the new weapon, and as polling of a broader groupof scientists in-the-know supported military use (Compton,1956; Rhodes, 1986).

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4.2. The Human Genome Project: competingauthorizations (and failed authorization)

The Big Science thinking that underpinned the HumanGenome Project required funding on a scale previouslyunheard of in the biological sciences and far above thatwhich could be delivered in the routine government-sponsored grant allocation process (Lambright, 2002;Sulston and Ferry, 2002). There were two potential sourcesfor such funding—the public and private sectors. Whilethe Human Genome Project refers to the publicly fundedproject which gained the early momentum, the privatesector was a major competing player, especially in theauthorization stakes.

In the public sector, the main authorization soughtwas to make genome research a priority area in thegovernment-sponsored grant allocation process and toattract additional budgetary allocations (i.e. new money)which could be disbursed, often through very large grants.Most of the information about this is available for the USand the UK (Collins et al., 2003; Lambright, 2002; Sulstonand Ferry, 2002), but an Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development report (OECD, 1995) showsthat similar considerations also applied in other jurisdic-tions, including Canada, the European Union as a whole andFrance individually (France also had private sector interest),Japan, and Russia. (The countries that finally made a con-tribution were China, France, Germany and Japan (Collinset al., 2003).)

In the US, a special committee of the National ResearchCouncil of the National Academy of Sciences played akey role through its 1988 report, which called for a 15-year project with funding of around $200 million per year(Collins et al., 2003; Lambright, 2002). Congressional sup-port made this funding available through the NationalInstitutes of Health, which took over as lead funder fromthe Department of Energy, the original sponsor of the BigScience approach (Lambright, 2002). In the UK, the govern-ment made new funding available to the Medical ResearchCouncil to launch the UK Human Genome Mapping Project.The UK-based philanthropy organization, the WellcomeTrust, also became a major player when its funding basedoubled in 1992 and it was persuaded to spend a signifi-cant proportion of this additional money on supporting theHuman Genome Project. It subsequently became the majorUK contributor, and by funding the sequencing of one-thirdof the human genome, made the UK a major player inter-nationally (Sulston and Ferry, 2002).

The main private sector players were also in the US.Influential researchers first sought commercialization part-ners in 1987, but were unsuccessful (Lambright, 2002;Sulston and Ferry, 2002). Private sector interest then coa-lesced around the scientific leadership of Dr. Craig Venter,who had previously worked at the National Institutes ofHealth. In 1998 he became scientific director of the newlyestablished company Celera Genomics. Republican Party

control of the US Congress (after 1994) provided high-levelsupport for replacing the publicly funded effort with a pri-vately funded one, thus the authorization for the projectstarted to change away from government support for apublic project to benefit all of humankind to government

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support for private enterprise and commercialization ofthe basic sequencing information. Celera’s case was fur-ther helped because Craig Venter was “an old friend” of(Democratic) President Bill Clinton (Clinton, 2004, p. 910).Significantly, although President Clinton and UK PrimeMinister Tony Blair eventually came out in support of thesequence information being in the public domain (Collinset al., 2003; Lambright, 2002), it was also President Clin-ton who intervened in the acrimonious battle to push forcredit sharing on an equal basis between the public and pri-vate sector researchers (Clinton, 2004; Sulston and Ferry,2002).

The key players at the US National Institutes of Health,the US Department of Energy and the UK’s Wellcome Trustsubsequently alluded to the challenging nature of “the artof keeping a long-term scientific project – and its budget – oncourse in an ever-changing sea of political masters with manydifferent agendas” (Collins et al., 2003, p. 288). The sub-stantial funding provided by the UK’s Wellcome Trust wasthought to have significantly fortified the National Insti-tutes of Health’s ability to resist a private take-over (Sulstonand Ferry, 2002).

Apart from the political backing for different values andplayers, there were also other factors that were influentialin deciding the outcome between the competing autho-rizations. Before 1998, very little effort had actually goneinto sequencing human DNA, with most of the moneybeing spent on methods to make the sequencing faster andcheaper. On one hand, this fuelled the private sector claimthat it could be more efficient and effective. Indeed Dr. Ven-ter’s impatience with the strategy and inability to attractNational Institutes of Health funding for his own methods,influenced his decision to seek private backing (Lambright,2002). Some researchers in the publicly funded group alsowanted to move faster on sequencing, but were commit-ted to the public domain research and so worked within itsconfines (Sulston and Ferry, 2002). On the other hand, thelong-term strategy was in line with the original recommen-dations of the National Research Council and well laid outwith an interim goal and deliverables, so that achievementscould be demonstrated. Lambright (2002, p. 30) suggestedthat:

Had the interim goal not been set and achieved, that sup-port might well have eroded. Goals, organization, andpolitical support go together in government programs,one influencing the other. Politicians may understandlittle about the technical details of HGP [Human GenomeProgram], but they do think they know something aboutschedules and money. They react negatively to whatthey perceive as mismanagement, as seen in scheduleslippage and cost overruns. Hence, what HGP had to dowas to show results to keep the confidence of electedofficials.

In the Human Genome Project, the Big Science fund-ing requirements meant that the whole way that research

was organized changed. Despite clearly stated oppositionin the 1988 National Research Council report to allowinga small number of centres to dominate the sequencingeffort, that was the outcome. The successful centres oper-ated in an industrial fashion (Lambright, 2002; Sulston and

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erry, 2002). Others had their funding phased out, espe-ially “centers that were failing to reach the most ambitiousevels of production and cost efficiency. Just meeting goalsas not enough; the centers that succeeded were those that

onstantly innovated and stretched beyond original expecta-ions” (Collins et al., 2003, p. 287). This trend was givenmpetus by the private sector challenge (Lambright, 2002).lthough this had impacts on research independence,

heir benefits and costs do not seem to have been evalu-ted.

.2.1. Failed authorizationFinally, the Human Genome Project also illustrates

hat research managers and policy makers are not alwaysuccessful in gaining authorization. HUGO, the Humanenome Organization, was to be the international coor-inating mechanism but, despite elite membership andigh-profile leaders, was never able to attract enough

unding to establish its position (Anderson and Aldous,992). In the end, the coordination was led by the Nationaluman Genome Research Institute at the US National

nstitutes of Health (Lambright, 2002; Sulston and Ferry,002).

.3. The World Commission on Dams: complexuthorization with hidden trade-offs

The World Commission on Dams demonstrates a dif-erent authorization process. A 1997 workshop hostedy the World Conservation Union and the World Bankrought together 35 representatives of pro- and anti-dam

nterests, which unanimously recommended the establish-ent of the Commission (IUCN—World Conservation Union

nd the World Bank Group, 1997; Scudder, 2001; Worldommission on Dams, 2000). Legitimacy was based on bothower and moral authority. The former came through thetanding of the World Conservation Union and the Worldank. The latter derived from the balance of interests rep-esented by influential players on both sides of the damsebate. The Commission systematically built up its moral

egitimacy by striving for balance among its 12 commis-ioners and its 68 member stakeholder forum, as well as itsroad funding base drawing on 53 public, private and civilociety organizations (World Commission on Dams, 2000).he status of research also contributed to the legitimacyf the Commission. Research was seen as the solution topolitical problem, which had become pressing because

f the growth and increasing power of the transnationalnti-dam movement (Khagram, 2004).

In the case of the Commission, the costs of the autho-ization process cannot be readily discerned, as there areew insider reflections or analyses of the process. Questionsor investigation include: Did getting everyone to the tablereclude a more action-oriented agenda, leading to focus

n a framework for action, rather than action itself? Did theesignation of the Chinese Commissioner make it easier forhe Commission to reach agreement, but pave the way forhina to circumvent the Commission’s findings by provid-

ng funding for new dams but ignoring the Commission’sramework (Giles, 2006)?

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4.4. Summary of gaining legitimate authorization

As research has become more large-scale and directlyengaged with real-world problems, as the diversity offunding sources has grown, and as governments, privateindustry, community groups and others have become moreproactively involved in research, research managers areneeding to pay more specific attention to authorizationissues. At this stage there is little to guide these consid-erations, apart from the lessons which can be drawn fromcase studies, such as those described above. This is anotherarea for fruitful investigation.

5. What does all this mean for evaluating researchcollaborations?

One benefit of thinking more systematically aboutresearch collaborations is that the insights gained canbe useful for evaluation. The topics discussed earlier –harnessing differences, setting defensible boundaries andgaining legitimate authorization – provide some additionalconsiderations for research design, methods, results andconclusions.

In terms of research design, evaluators could ask: Howdefensible are the boundaries of the collaboration? Wereall the necessary actors and considerations included? Werelimitations dealt with effectively? Was the normative basesound?

In terms of methods, key questions include: Were effec-tive integrative methods used? Would other methods havemade useful contributions? Were incidental differencesmanaged effectively or did they get in the way of produc-ing successful outcomes? Were the collaborators treatedfairly in terms of meeting their interests in the collab-oration and in the distribution of the rewards of thecollaboration?

For results: How well did the collaboration meet itsaims? Was effective integration achieved? Were influentialnew insights produced? Did effective action result?

And, finally, in terms of conclusions: Can the claims madeby the researchers be substantiated? Has research indepen-dence been compromised?

These questions cover the considerations used to evalu-ate any research, as well as additional elements introducedby collaboration and integration. The former address themore general issues of: Did the research do what it set outto do? Was the problem definition appropriate? Were thebest methods used? Were appropriate conclusions drawn?The latter highlight unique dimensions of collaborativeresearch, which also warrant evaluation. First is the empha-sis on good collaborative practice. It is useful to think of thequestions on fair treatment of partners and managementof incidental differences as analogous to good laboratorymanagement in traditional scientific endeavours. It is nowtaken for granted that experimental results cannot betrusted unless the conditions are uncontaminated, equip-

ment is in good working order, measuring instruments areaccurate, and staff are appropriately trained. The point ofthe analogy is that good collaborative process requires thesame matter-of-fact consideration and suitable allocationof resources. There seems to be little available knowledge,

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however, about what resource allocation is reasonable forcollaboration.

The second issue specific to collaborative researchis how best to evaluate claims for partnership success.While it can be tempting to develop complex evaluationapproaches, a simpler approach is to enlarge peer-review bydeveloping a new college of peers—those who have them-selves led collaborative projects of the type being assessed(e.g. involving researchers only, involving researchers andpractitioners of relatively equal standing, or involvingresearchers and practitioners with very different power).However, to conduct their assessment, these peers willrequire key elements of collaboration and integration to bedescribed in ways that are not standard now, but whichare outlined in this paper. This would allow peer-reviewersto effectively assess the integration methods, boundarysetting and authorization, as well as how the inevitabletrade-offs had been met.

6. Conclusions

As researchers are increasingly called on by gov-ernments, business, the representatives of powerlesscommunity groups and others to assist with tackling thecomplex problems societies face, collaborations are grow-ing in importance. This paper provides a number of ideasto stimulate exploration of key elements of partnershipsthat are likely to influence collaboration success. I concludeby highlighting where further compilation of evidence ornew investigations may be useful in expanding the ideaspresented here:

• applying and further developing an agreed frameworkto systematically describe the integration of the variousperspectives and elements fundamental to harnessingdifference in any particular collaboration;

• making a compendium of methods for managing per-sonality, value, world-view, research approach and otherdifferences which are incidental to, but have the poten-tial to significantly disrupt, partnerships and which canbe used to foster reciprocity;

• building on scoping and Critical Systems Heuristics todevelop systematic ways of defining the boundaries ofresearch collaborations;

• learning from diverse partnerships about how inevitablepressures which constrain the boundaries – like lim-ited funding, time and other resources, political pressure,and power differences between disciplines – can best berecognised and accommodated, as well as how creativitycan be nurtured in a ‘deliverables’ culture;

• researching diverse partnerships to better understandprocesses of authorization, trade-offs and preventingrestrictions on research independence; and

• expanding evaluation criteria and processes so thatresearch collaborations can be adequately assessed andan increasing body of experience and knowledge can bebuilt.

Acknowledgements

The Fulbright New Century Scholars Program and theColonial Foundation Trust, through the Drug Policy Mod-

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elling Program, supported this research. Useful suggestionswere received from Warren Bond, Dorothy Broom, L. DavidBrown, Bill Clark, Nancy Dickson, Jane Dixon, Sanjeev Kha-gram, Mark Moore, Alison Ritter, Lorrae van Kerkhoff,Yoland Wadsworth and two anonymous reviewers. CarynAnderson assisted with the references.

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