NYTimes | One summer night in 2011, a tall, 40-something professor named Diederik
Stapel stepped out of his elegant brick house in the Dutch city of
Tilburg to visit a friend around the corner. It was close to midnight,
but his colleague Marcel Zeelenberg had called and texted Stapel that
evening to say that he wanted to see him about an urgent matter. The two
had known each other since the early ’90s, when they were Ph.D.
students at the University of Amsterdam; now both were psychologists at
Tilburg University. In 2010, Stapel became dean of the university’s
School of Social and Behavioral Sciences and Zeelenberg head of the
social psychology department. Stapel and his wife, Marcelle, had
supported Zeelenberg through a difficult divorce a few years earlier. As
he approached Zeelenberg’s door, Stapel wondered if his colleague was
having problems with his new girlfriend.
Zeelenberg, a stocky man with a shaved head, led Stapel into his living
room. “What’s up?” Stapel asked, settling onto a couch. Two graduate
students had made an accusation, Zeelenberg explained. His eyes began to
fill with tears. “They suspect you have been committing research
fraud.”
Stapel was an academic star in the Netherlands and abroad, the author of
several well-regarded studies on human attitudes and behavior. That
spring, he published a widely publicized study in Science about an
experiment done at the Utrecht train station showing that a trash-filled
environment tended to bring out racist tendencies in individuals. And
just days earlier, he received more media attention for a study
indicating that eating meat made people selfish and less social.
His enemies were targeting him because of changes he initiated as dean,
Stapel replied, quoting a Dutch proverb about high trees catching a lot
of wind. When Zeelenberg challenged him with specifics — to explain why
certain facts and figures he reported in different studies appeared to
be identical — Stapel promised to be more careful in the future. As
Zeelenberg pressed him, Stapel grew increasingly agitated.
Finally, Zeelenberg said: “I have to ask you if you’re faking data.”
“No, that’s ridiculous,” Stapel replied. “Of course not.”
That weekend, Zeelenberg relayed the allegations to the university
rector, a law professor named Philip Eijlander, who often played tennis
with Stapel. After a brief meeting on Sunday, Eijlander invited Stapel
to come by his house on Tuesday morning. Sitting in Eijlander’s living
room, Stapel mounted what Eijlander described to me as a spirited
defense, highlighting his work as dean and characterizing his research
methods as unusual. The conversation lasted about five hours. Then
Eijlander politely escorted Stapel to the door but made it plain that he
was not convinced of Stapel’s innocence.
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