October 9, 1997

Use of Placebos in Ivory Coast AIDS Test Sparks Ethics

Debate in U.S.

 

By HOWARD W. FRENCH

 

BIDJAN, Ivory Coast -- Cecile Guede, a 23-year-old

HIV-infected mother and patient in an

American-financed AIDS treatment experiment here,

doesn't yet know if the disease has spared her year-old

son.

Like scores of other women who have taken part in the

same tests, she has no idea whether she received

medicine or a dummy pill. And she may never be told.

It is now more than a year since she took pills

prescribed to her in the program meant to determine the

effectiveness of a short course of the anti-AIDS drug

AZT in preventing pregnant mothers from passing the HIV

virus on their chidren.

A longer treatment with AZT is known to significantly

reduce the rate of transmission of the virus from

mother to baby, but the cost and complexity make it

prohibitive in the Third World. That is why tests to

determine the effectiveness of various lower levels of

the drug have been conducted here, the Dominican

Republic and Thailand. The use of placebos in these

tests, however, has set off a furor among medical

ethicists in the West.

Ms. Guede, however, still doesn't quite grasp -- even

after repeated questioning -- what exactly a placebo is

or why she might have been given one instead of a real

medicine.

"They gave me a bunch of pills to take, and told me how

to take them" said the woman, who is illiterate. "Some

were for malaria, some were for fevers, and some were

supposed to be for the virus. I knew that there were

different kinds, but I figured that if one of them

didn't work against AIDS, then one of the other ones

would."

For Ms. Guede, the reason to enroll in the placebo

trial last year was clear: it offered her and her

infant free health care, and a hope to shield her baby

from an infection that she understands is deadly.

Unmarried and unemployed, this new mother, like many

others, said that the prospect of help as she brought

her baby into the world made taking part in the

experiment all but irresistible.

Still, the question of whether she and other pregnant

women really knew the implications of consenting to a

placebo test hangs over the project, financed by the

National Institutes of Health and the Centers for

Disease Control and Prevention. It has set off a raging

debate over medical ethics in the United States but has

barely raised a ripple in this poor West African

country of 11 million people.

In the United States, tests of an intensive treatment

with AZT, known as the 076 regimen, and comparing the

drug's effects with those of placebos ended in 1994

once it was shown that the drug sharply reduced

transmission of the virus from mothers to their babies.

It would be virtually impossible, doctors say, to

receive approval for tests in the United States on

AIDS-infected mothers using placebos now that the 076

regimen has been proved effective.

But other medical ethicists argue differently: There is

no question of 076 being adopted in Africa because of

its high cost, they say, and that is precisely why a

low-cost method is needed. Some people say the best way

to do that is to compare different low-cost methods,

with no placebo group, but others say this would take

longer and be less reliable than a placebo test.

"We cannot afford the 076 regimen," said Dr. Rene

Anatole Ehounou Ekpini, one of a team of local

health-care workers employed in the program. The

treatment is not only costly; it requires early

intervention in a woman's pregnancy, long courses of

the expensive drug, and intravenous treatments during

childbirth. And none of this seems practical here.

"We already know what the alternative is to what we are

doing," said Ekpini, who spoke in the simple state-run

maternal and infant-care clinic in Abidjan's

working-class district of Koumassi, where the trials

are being conducted. "The alternative is giving

everyone here the placebo treatment, because if you

step outside, that is what pregnant women with the

disease are getting here: nothing."

One American doctor involved in the research, who spoke

on the condition of anonymity, echoed that argument.

"The regimen that is proven in the United States costs

$1,000 per woman, which this country and others like it

cannot afford."

The American scientists involved in the experiments

here were told by the U.S. Embassy not to speak on the

record about their work.

In the United States, proponents of the AZT trials have

said that the women who take part are willing

volunteers who knowingly accept the risks.

But extended interviews with a handful of the women,

made available to a reporter by the researchers, made

it clear that despite repeated explanations by project

case workers, the understanding of these mostly poor

and scantily educated subjects does not match the

complexity of the ethical and scientific issues

involved.

Social workers and nurses employed in the experiment do

brief potential subjects about the nature of the

testing program. But a session in which one

HIV-positive woman was invited to take part showed just

how quickly the details of the testing are disposed

with.

Minutes after she was informed for the first time that

she carried the AIDS virus, one pregnant woman, Siata

Ouattara, still visibly shaken by the news, was quickly

walked through the details of the tests, as well as

general advice about maintaining her health and

protecting others from acquiring the disease.

In less than five minutes, in which the previously

unknown concept of a placebo was briefly mentioned, the

session was over, and Ms. Ouattara, unemployed and

illiterate, had agreed to take part in the tests. Asked

what had persuaded her to do so, she responded, "the

medical care that they are promising me."

The gap in understanding of the issues involved

corresponds to that between the means of industrialized

countries, like the United States and France, which are

conducting such tests, and developing countries, like

Ivory Coast, which have agreed to host them.

One of the most highly educated of the women who spoke

to a reporter, a 31-year-old single mother with a

degree in law who gave her name only as Nicole, said

that she had never been made to understand that the

medicine being tested, AZT, was already known to stop

transmission of the virus during pregnancy.

"I am not sure that I understood all of this so well,"

Nicole said. "But there were some medicines that they

said might protect the mother and the child, and they

wanted to follow the evolution of my pregnancy and the

effectiveness of the treatment."

Asked if the treatment had helped her, Nicole responded

"I am sure, because I gave birth to a little girl who

is doing very well and I feel fine myself."

Pressed further, Nicole, like the other mothers, said

that she had not been told the results of blood tests

on her 1-year old.

Then asked what how she would feel if she learned

tomorrow that she had received a placebo when a proven

treatment existed, Nicole's tone changed abruptly. "I

would say quite simply that that is an injustice." she

said.

Then, regathering her composure, Nicole posed the

problem another way. "At the time they explained this

to me I asked myself the simple question of whether I

had any choice," she said. "As long as there was a

possibility to save my daughter, I had to try."

For other mothers who took part in the test, the

confusion was far more profound. Some acknowledged that

they understood little of the tests but hoped to save

their children or get health care that they could not

otherwise afford.

Several Ivorian doctors objected to the ethical

questions being raised over AZT testing, saying that

outsiders consider Africans incapable of weighing their

own interests.

"One has the impression that foreigners think that once

white people arrive here they can impose what they want

and we just accept it in ignorance," said Dr. Toussaint

Sibailly, one of the doctors employed in the project.

"If that was once the case, those days are long past."

Still, even though the testing here was reviewed and

approved by an Ivory Coast official board of ethics, a

senior health official seemed surprised when told that

a test like the one underway in Abidjan could not

likely take place in the United States.

"If the country that is paying for the study cannot

accept conducting it, then we can't be expected to

accept it either," said Dr. Issa Malick Coulibaly, the

senior health ministry official with oversight over the

AZT research.

An American scientist with the project said later that

the Ivory Coast had never been told that this type of

research could be performed in the United States, only

that the experiment was designed according to the

strictest American and international standards for

medical research.

The women taking part in the study seemed to have a

sense of obligation when they were told that the trials

are meant to find an affordable drug regimen that can

save tens of thousands of lives down the road.

"If the scientists say that it has to be this way, then

I can only agree with them," said a mother named

Salimata, who spoke as she clutched her tiny

4-month-old daughter. "People are trying to help us,

and if a bunch of people have to die first, I am ready

to risk my life too, so that other women and their

babies can survive.

"If I got the placebo, that will hurt, for sure. But

there is no evil involved."

 

Copyright 1997 The New York Times Company