PARIS — A French appeals court on Wednesday rejected a demand from Dominique Strauss-Kahn to dismiss an investigation of him in connection with a ring that recruited prostitutes for sex parties from Paris to Washington.
His appeal was an effort to end the last of the legal problems that forced him to resign as head managing director of the International Monetary Fund and ruined his ambition to seek the French presidency. Mr. Strauss-Kahn, 63, and his lawyers vowed to challenge the ruling from the court of appeal of Douai in northern France, which announced the decision without an explanation.
In the case, nine people in the northern city of Lille are under investigation for procurement of prostitutes, and in some cases, fraud. Mr. Strauss-Kahn has insisted that he was unaware that prostitutes were involved in the parties.
“This is not a victory for rights,” Frédérique Baulieu, a lawyer for Mr. Strauss-Kahn, said outside the courthouse in Douai. Mr. Strauss-Kahn’s lawyers had questioned the impartiality of judges, citing the leak of transcripts of his testimony when he was questioned by investigators and offered an explanation for his libertine lifestyle.
In October, the prosecutor’s office in Lille dropped sexual assault charges against Mr. Strauss-Kahn after an “escort girl” withdrew her complaint about an incident that took place in Washington in December 2010, saying it was simply sex play.
Mr. Strauss-Kahn and his lawyers in the United States negotiated a confidential settlement earlier this month with Nafissatou Diallo, the hotel housekeeper who in 2011 accused him of sexual assault in a New York hotel room, charges that were dropped by the prosecutor because of doubts about Ms. Diallo’s credibility.
Companies that collect, analyze and sell billions of details about the activities of consumers for marketing purposes have increasingly found themselves under government scrutiny this year.
The latest salvo comes from the Federal Trade Commission, which said on Tuesday that it had opened an inquiry into the practices of nine companies that collect and resell or analyze consumer data.
The agency issued 15-page administrative subpoenas to the information resellers. The orders require each company to provide extensive details about how it collects consumer data and how it uses, stores, analyzes and shares that data. The agency also asked for information about whether the company allows consumers to see and correct the records held about them.
After it reviews this information, the agency plans to issue a report to advise lawmakers on whether more regulation is needed; data brokers are currently largely unregulated.
The F.T.C.’s inquiry seeks far more comprehensive details than similar investigations this year in Congress. And executives at the companies may be more forthcoming about their practices with regulators because, unlike Congressional inquiries that often make their results public, the F.T.C. keeps the specifics it gathers confidential.
The subpoenas went to, among other companies, Acxiom of Little Rock, Ark., one of the world’s largest information resellers, which manages customer databases for major banks, automakers and retailers; eBureau, a company in St. Cloud, Minn., which, on behalf of clients like credit card companies, lenders, insurers and educational institutions, evaluates and scores online consumers in the market for those companies’ products; Intelius, a company in Bellevue, Wash., which offers people-search look-up services and background checks; and Peek-You, a company that analyzes social media sentiment.
“We are going to get a huge amount of data,” David C. Vladeck, the director of the Bureau of Consumer Protection at the F.T.C., said in a phone interview on Tuesday. “We are going to get answers.”
In an e-mail, Jennifer Barrett Glasgow, the chief privacy officer of Acxiom, said the company had not yet received the F.T.C.’s letter, but was looking forward to cooperating with the inquiry. “We consider this request as an avenue to promote a better understanding of why what we do is vital for the American economy as it creates enormous value for people and businesses while respecting and protecting consumers’ interests,” she wrote.
Gordon Meyer, the chief executive of eBureau, wrote in an e-mail that the consumer scoring company “welcomes the opportunity to describe, to the F.T.C., its practices and the benefits we provide to businesses as well as consumers.”
Representatives of other companies did not return e-mails seeking comment.
Companies and organizations in the United States spend more than $2 billion a year on third-party data about individuals, according to a report last year on personal identity management from Forrester Research, a market research firm. That figure does not include spending on market research and customer data analytics, the report said.
Industry representatives argue that their practices benefit consumers. Data brokers, they say, collect information about individuals’ purchasing histories, estimated salaries, property ownership, family size, leisure pursuits — and sometimes also their race or ethnicity, age, gender, health concerns, online browsing history and social networks — to help marketers tailor pitches to a person’s demonstrated tastes. When these bespoke ad systems work properly, the companies argue, marketers can identify male Southern Californians who surf and show them ads for board shorts even as they avoid sending coupons for ski vacations to people who prefer Alaskan cruises.
But, as consumers conduct more of their personal and commercial lives online, that type of data collection has been steadily increasing, fueled by new online surveillance techniques and more sophisticated analytics. Some companies, for example, have compiled several thousand different pieces of information on a majority of adults in the United States. Regulators say they are concerned that such comprehensive data collection could be used to profile, score or segment consumers, with the potential to unfairly limit the kinds of financial, insurance, health, education or other marketing offers certain consumers receive.
Mr. Vladeck of the F.T.C. offered one possibility he worried about: a hypothetical consumer who buys a deep-fat fryer online may get typecast by data broker systems as a health risk, and then is passed over for marketing pitches for insurance or other services.
LAHORE, Pakistan — The front-line heroes of Pakistan’s war on polio are its volunteers: young women who tread fearlessly from door to door, in slums and highland villages, administering precious drops of vaccine to children in places where their immunization campaign is often viewed with suspicion.
Now, those workers have become quarry. After militants stalked and killed eight of them over the course of a three-day, nationwide vaccination drive, the United Nations suspended its anti-polio work in Pakistan on Wednesday, and one of Pakistan’s most crucial public health campaigns has been plunged into crisis. A ninth victim died on Thursday, a day after being shot in the northwestern city of Peshawar, The Associated Press reported.
The World Health Organization and Unicef ordered their staff members off the streets, while government officials reported that some polio volunteers — especially women — were afraid to show up for work.
At the ground level, it is those female health workers who are essential, allowed privileged entrance into private homes to meet and help children in situations denied to men because of conservative rural culture. “They are on the front line; they are the backbone,” said Imtiaz Ali Shah, a polio coordinator in Peshawar.
The killings started in the port city of Karachi on Monday, the first day of a vaccination drive aimed at the worst affected areas, with the shooting of a male health worker. On Tuesday four female polio workers were killed, all gunned down by men on motorcycles in what appeared to be closely coordinated attacks.
The hit jobs then moved to Peshawar, the capital of Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa Province, which, along with the adjoining tribal belt, constitutes Pakistan’s main reservoir of new polio infections. The first victim there was one of two sisters who had volunteered as polio vaccinators. Men on motorcycles shadowed them as they walked from house to house. Once the sisters entered a quiet street, the gunmen opened fire. One of the sisters, Farzana, died instantly; the other was uninjured.
On Wednesday, a man working on the polio campaign was shot dead as he made a chalk mark on the door of a house in a suburb of Peshawar. Later, a female health supervisor in Charsadda, 15 miles to the north, was shot dead in a car she shared with her cousin.
Yet again, Pakistani militants are making a point of attacking women who stand for something larger. In October, it was Malala Yousafzai, a schoolgirl advocate for education who was gunned down by a Pakistani Taliban attacker in the Swat Valley. She was grievously wounded, and the militants vowed they would try again until they had killed her. The result was a tidal wave of public anger that clearly unsettled the Pakistani Taliban.
In singling out the core workers in one of Pakistan’s most crucial public health initiatives, militants seem to have resolved to harden their stance against immunization drives, and declared anew that they consider women to be legitimate targets. Until this week, vaccinators had never been targeted with such violence in such numbers.
Government officials in Peshawar said that they believe a Taliban faction in Mohmand, a tribal area near Peshawar, was behind at least some of the shootings. Still, the Pakistani Taliban have been uncharacteristically silent about the attacks, with no official claims of responsibility. In staying quiet, the militants may be trying to blunt any public backlash like the huge demonstrations over the attack on Ms. Yousafzai.
Female polio workers here are easy targets. They wear no uniforms but are readily recognizable, with clipboards and refrigerated vaccine boxes, walking door to door. They work in pairs — including at least one woman — and are paid just over $2.50 a day. Most days one team can vaccinate 150 to 200 children.
Faced with suspicious or recalcitrant parents, their only weapon is reassurance: a gentle pat on the hand, a shared cup of tea, an offer to seek religious assurances from a pro-vaccine cleric. “The whole program is dependent on them,” said Mr. Shah, in Peshawar. “If they do good work, and talk well to the parents, then they will vaccinate the children.”
That has happened with increasing frequency in Pakistan over the past year. A concerted immunization drive, involving up to 225,000 vaccination workers, drove the number of newly infected polio victims down to 52. Several high-profile groups shouldered the program forward — at the global level, donors like the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, the United Nations and Rotary International; and at the national level, President Asif Ali Zardari and his daughter Aseefa, who have made polio eradication a “personal mission.”
On a global scale, setbacks are not unusual in polio vaccination campaigns, which, by dint of their massive scale and need to reach deep inside conservative societies, end up grappling with more than just medical challenges. In other campaigns in Africa and South Asia, vaccinators have grappled with natural disaster, virulent opposition from conservative clerics and sudden outbreaks of mysterious strains of the disease.
Declan Walsh reported from Lahore, and Donald G. McNeil Jr. from New York. Ismail Khan contributed reporting from Peshawar, Pakistan.
LAHORE, Pakistan — The front-line heroes of Pakistan’s war on polio are its volunteers: young women who tread fearlessly from door to door, in slums and highland villages, administering precious drops of vaccine to children in places where their immunization campaign is often viewed with suspicion.
Now, those workers have become quarry. After militants stalked and killed eight of them over the course of a three-day, nationwide vaccination drive, the United Nations suspended its anti-polio work in Pakistan on Wednesday, and one of Pakistan’s most crucial public health campaigns has been plunged into crisis. A ninth victim died on Thursday, a day after being shot in the northwestern city of Peshawar, The Associated Press reported.
The World Health Organization and Unicef ordered their staff members off the streets, while government officials reported that some polio volunteers — especially women — were afraid to show up for work.
At the ground level, it is those female health workers who are essential, allowed privileged entrance into private homes to meet and help children in situations denied to men because of conservative rural culture. “They are on the front line; they are the backbone,” said Imtiaz Ali Shah, a polio coordinator in Peshawar.
The killings started in the port city of Karachi on Monday, the first day of a vaccination drive aimed at the worst affected areas, with the shooting of a male health worker. On Tuesday four female polio workers were killed, all gunned down by men on motorcycles in what appeared to be closely coordinated attacks.
The hit jobs then moved to Peshawar, the capital of Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa Province, which, along with the adjoining tribal belt, constitutes Pakistan’s main reservoir of new polio infections. The first victim there was one of two sisters who had volunteered as polio vaccinators. Men on motorcycles shadowed them as they walked from house to house. Once the sisters entered a quiet street, the gunmen opened fire. One of the sisters, Farzana, died instantly; the other was uninjured.
On Wednesday, a man working on the polio campaign was shot dead as he made a chalk mark on the door of a house in a suburb of Peshawar. Later, a female health supervisor in Charsadda, 15 miles to the north, was shot dead in a car she shared with her cousin.
Yet again, Pakistani militants are making a point of attacking women who stand for something larger. In October, it was Malala Yousafzai, a schoolgirl advocate for education who was gunned down by a Pakistani Taliban attacker in the Swat Valley. She was grievously wounded, and the militants vowed they would try again until they had killed her. The result was a tidal wave of public anger that clearly unsettled the Pakistani Taliban.
In singling out the core workers in one of Pakistan’s most crucial public health initiatives, militants seem to have resolved to harden their stance against immunization drives, and declared anew that they consider women to be legitimate targets. Until this week, vaccinators had never been targeted with such violence in such numbers.
Government officials in Peshawar said that they believe a Taliban faction in Mohmand, a tribal area near Peshawar, was behind at least some of the shootings. Still, the Pakistani Taliban have been uncharacteristically silent about the attacks, with no official claims of responsibility. In staying quiet, the militants may be trying to blunt any public backlash like the huge demonstrations over the attack on Ms. Yousafzai.
Female polio workers here are easy targets. They wear no uniforms but are readily recognizable, with clipboards and refrigerated vaccine boxes, walking door to door. They work in pairs — including at least one woman — and are paid just over $2.50 a day. Most days one team can vaccinate 150 to 200 children.
Faced with suspicious or recalcitrant parents, their only weapon is reassurance: a gentle pat on the hand, a shared cup of tea, an offer to seek religious assurances from a pro-vaccine cleric. “The whole program is dependent on them,” said Mr. Shah, in Peshawar. “If they do good work, and talk well to the parents, then they will vaccinate the children.”
That has happened with increasing frequency in Pakistan over the past year. A concerted immunization drive, involving up to 225,000 vaccination workers, drove the number of newly infected polio victims down to 52. Several high-profile groups shouldered the program forward — at the global level, donors like the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, the United Nations and Rotary International; and at the national level, President Asif Ali Zardari and his daughter Aseefa, who have made polio eradication a “personal mission.”
On a global scale, setbacks are not unusual in polio vaccination campaigns, which, by dint of their massive scale and need to reach deep inside conservative societies, end up grappling with more than just medical challenges. In other campaigns in Africa and South Asia, vaccinators have grappled with natural disaster, virulent opposition from conservative clerics and sudden outbreaks of mysterious strains of the disease.
Declan Walsh reported from Lahore, and Donald G. McNeil Jr. from New York. Ismail Khan contributed reporting from Peshawar, Pakistan.
The 200-page report by Nick Pollard, a veteran British broadcast executive, strongly criticized the editorial and management decisions that prompted the BBC to cancel a broadcast last year that would have exposed decades of sexual abuse by Jimmy Savile, a BBC fixture who had been one of Britain’s best-known television personalities.
While the scandal led to the resignation and reassignment of several top executives — including George Entwistle, just two months into his tenure in the BBC’s top job as director general — Mr. Pollard absolved top management of applying “undue pressure” in the decision to stop the broadcast.
The report also did not challenge the assertions of Mark Thompson, then head of the BBC, that he had no role in killing the Savile investigation and was unaware of the sexual abuse accusations until he left the BBC this September. Mr. Thompson is now president and chief executive of The New York Times Company.
The report traced in detail what it described as “a chain of events that was to prove disastrous for the BBC.” Its central conclusion was that confusion and mismanagement, not a cover-up, lay at the heart of the decision to drop the Savile segment on “Newsnight,” an investigative program. Mr. Savile died at 84 in October 2011, weeks before the segment was scheduled to run.
“The efforts to get to the truth behind the Savile story proved beyond the combined efforts of the senior management, legal department, corporate communications team and anyone else for well over a month” after a rival channel, ITV, broadcast its own exposé in October 2012.
That segment presented the accounts of five women who said they had been sexually abused as teenagers by Mr. Savile, the report said. “Leadership and organization seemed to be in short supply.”
Mr. Pollard, a former head of the Sky News channel who began his broadcast career as a BBC reporter, dismissed a widely circulated theory that BBC News executives or their superiors pressured the “Newsnight” team to cancel the Savile segment to avoid embarrassing the BBC. Peter Rippon, the program’s editor, said that he canceled the report because he thought the team’s conclusions about Mr. Savile were inadequately substantiated.
“While there clearly were discussions about the Savile story between Mr. Rippon and his managers,” Mr. Pollard said, he does not believe that they went beyond journalistic considerations.
After publication of the report, Tim Davie, the BBC’s acting director general, said that Stephen Mitchell, the deputy director of news, would be taking early retirement and that Mr. Rippon would be moved to another job. Helen Boaden, director of the news division, who along with Mr. Rippon and Mr. Mitchell was suspended while the nine-week Pollard inquiry was in progress, will return to her job, overseeing new editorial leadership at “Newsnight.”
In a statement, the BBC Trust, which oversees the broadcaster, said the report made clear the need for major changes in the BBC’s operation. It said top executives must take initiative and responsibility, share information and embrace criticism, and persuade employees to rid the company of the “insularity and distrust” revealed in the report.
“The BBC portrayed by the Pollard review is not fundamentally flawed, but has been chaotic,” it said. “That now needs to change.”
The report was strongly critical of several news executives who were directly involved in the decision to cancel the Savile program, including Mr. Rippon and the top executives in the BBC’s news division to whom he reported, Ms. Boaden and Mr. Mitchell, saying they had reached a “flawed” conclusion in canceling the “Newsnight” segment that overrode the “cogent evidence” against Mr. Savile that the “Newsnight” team had gathered.
But it paid scant attention to the role of the former director general, Mr. Thompson, and did not fault him for missing opportunities to learn the details of the allegations against Mr. Savile.
After Mr. Thompson was told about the scuttled segment by a BBC reporter at a reception in late December 2011, he said, he asked his news executives about it. According to his testimony to the Pollard inquiry, he “received reassurances” that it had been killed for “editorial or journalistic reasons” and “crossed it off my list and went off to worry about something else.”
Matthew Purdy contributed reporting from New York.
The Fight for Aleppo: In Syria’s largest city, a sustained and pitched battle between rebels and the Syrian army has left the city in ruins.
ALEPPO, Syria — Inside the classrooms where they once studied, the boys darted like a pack. Their banging and clanking could be heard for a city block.
The playground outside had been hit by a Syrian Air Force airstrike, which fractured the school’s walls. Now the children were smashing the furniture, prying off wooden desktops and bench seats, rushing away with what they could.
The Isam al-Nadri School for Boys was being dismantled for the firewood it contained. One sixth grader, Ahmed, clutching the kindling he had made by ransacking a room, offered an irreducible argument for looting his own school. “I want heat,” he said.
Winter is descending on Aleppo, Syria’s largest city and the bloodied stage for an urban battle, now running into its sixth month, between rebels and the military of President Bashar al-Assad.
As temperatures drop and the weakened government’s artillery thunders on, Aleppo is administered by no one and slipping into disaster. Front-line neighborhoods are rubble. Most of the city’s districts have had no electricity and little water for weeks. All of Aleppo suffers from shortages of oil, food, medicine, doctors and gas.
Diseases are spreading. Parks and courtyards are being defoliated for firewood, turning streets once lined with trees into avenues bordered by stumps. Months’ worth of trash is piled high, often beside bread lines where hundreds of people wait for a meager stack of loaves.
One of the Middle East’s beautiful and historic cities is being forced by scarcity and violence into a bitter new shape. Overlaying it all is a mix of fatigue and distrust, the sentiments of a population divided in multiple ways.
Aleppo’s citizens scavenge and seethe. And along with the sectarian passions of civil war, some residents express yearnings for starkly opposite visions of the future: either for a return of the relative stability of the Assad government or for the promises of Islamic rule.
Others see a grim hope, calling the tearing apart of their society a period that one day will be remembered as this ancient city’s ultimate test.
“We left high salaries, we left our jobs, we left our rank in society,” said Dr. Ammar Diar Bakerly, who directs medical care in the city’s rebel-held east. “We left everything to get our dignity. This is the price we have to pay, and it is a cheap price to get our freedom from the tyrant.”
Not everyone shares these revolutionary views. “We come every morning to the clinic asking for medicine, but they don’t offer any,” said Johair Iman Mustafa, a house painter and taxi driver with no work, who spotted a visitor and approached in a rage. “We go to the bakery for hours, but there is no bread and they kick us.”
“Before the revolution,” said Mr. Mustafa, a Sunni who had been no supporter of Mr. Assad’s Alawite-led government, “it was much better.”
Supplies Dwindle, Prices Rise
For most of Syria’s 21-month uprising, Aleppo, a commercial and government center built around its historic Old City, was spared the battles engulfing the country.
That changed in July when the Free Syrian Army, or F.S.A., as many rebels call themselves, entered Aleppo and opened urban fronts.
The government rushed in much-needed army units from elsewhere, turning to heavier weapons in a bid to retain control of a city that, if lost, would change Mr. Assad’s self-assured narrative. The war’s largest battle yet was joined.
Five months on, the government’s gambit has failed. Even with air support and artillery batteries firing relentlessly, Mr. Assad’s military has yielded ground. In roughly half the city, rebels move about openly.
From the outset, Aleppo’s population, its loyalties split, was stuck between forces. Disorganized rebel groups had started a battle they had little prospect to win swiftly. The army fought back in part with a collective-punishment model. Foreign fighters began to trickle in, stalking the front and talking of jihad.
DISABLED Almost all the other skeletons at the Man Bac site, south of Hanoi, are straight. But the man now called Burial 9 was laid to rest curled in a fetal position that suggests lifelong paralysis.
While it is a painful truism that brutality and violence are at least as old as humanity, so, it seems, is caring for the sick and disabled.
And some archaeologists are suggesting a closer, more systematic look at how prehistoric people — who may have left only their bones — treated illness, injury and incapacitation. Call it the archaeology of health care.
The case that led Lorna Tilley and Marc Oxenham of Australian National University in Canberra to this idea is that of a profoundly ill young man who lived 4,000 years ago in what is now northern Vietnam and was buried, as were others in his culture, at a site known as Man Bac.
Almost all the other skeletons at the site, south of Hanoi and about 15 miles from the coast, lie straight. Burial 9, as both the remains and the once living person are known, was laid to rest curled in the fetal position. When Ms. Tilley, a graduate student in archaeology, and Dr. Oxenham, a professor, excavated and examined the skeleton in 2007 it became clear why. His fused vertebrae, weak bones and other evidence suggested that he lies in death as he did in life, bent and crippled by disease.
They gathered that he became paralyzed from the waist down before adolescence, the result of a congenital disease known as Klippel-Feil syndrome. He had little, if any, use of his arms and could not have fed himself or kept himself clean. But he lived another 10 years or so.
They concluded that the people around him who had no metal and lived by fishing, hunting and raising barely domesticated pigs, took the time and care to tend to his every need.
“There’s an emotional experience in excavating any human being, a feeling of awe,” Ms. Tilley said, and a responsibility “to tell the story with as much accuracy and humanity as we can.”
This case, and other similar, if less extreme examples of illness and disability, have prompted Ms. Tilley and Dr. Oxenham to ask what the dimensions of such a story are, what care for the sick and injured says about the culture that provided it.
The archaeologists described the extent of Burial 9’s disability in a paper in Anthropological Science in 2009. Two years later, they returned to the case to address the issue of health care head on. “The provision and receipt of health care may therefore reflect some of the most fundamental aspects of a culture,” the two archaeologists wrote in The International Journal of Paleopathology.
And earlier this year, in proposing what she calls a “bioarchaeology of care,” Ms. Tilley wrote that this field of study “has the potential to provide important — and possibly unique — insights into the lives of those under study.” In the case of Burial 9, she says, not only does his care indicate tolerance and cooperation in his culture, but suggests that he himself had a sense of his own worth and a strong will to live. Without that, she says, he could not have stayed alive.
“I’m obviously not the first archaeologist” to notice evidence of people who needed help to survive in stone age or other early cultures, she said. Nor does her method “come out of the blue.” It is based on and extends previous work.
Among archaeological finds, she said, she knows “about 30 cases in which the disease or pathology was so severe, they must have had care in order to survive.” And she said there are certainly more such cases to be described. “I am totally confident that there are almost any number of case studies where direct support or accommodation was necessary.”
Such cases include at least one Neanderthal, Shanidar 1, from a site in Iraq, dating to 45,000 years ago, who died around age 50 with one arm amputated, loss of vision in one eye and other injuries. Another is Windover boy from about 7,500 years ago, found in Florida, who had a severe congenital spinal malformation known as spina bifida, and lived to around age 15. D. N. Dickel and G. H. Doran, from Florida State University wrote the original paper on the case in 1989, and they concluded that contrary to popular stereotypes of prehistoric people, “under some conditions life 7,500 years ago included an ability and willingness to help and sustain the chronically ill and handicapped.”
In another well-known case, the skeleton of a teenage boy, Romito 2, found at a site in Italy in the 1980s, and dating to 10,000 years ago, showed a form of severe dwarfism that left the boy with very short arms. His people were nomadic and they lived by hunting and gathering. He didn’t need nursing care, but the group would have had to accept that he couldn’t run at the same pace or participate in hunting in the same way others did.
Ms. Tilley gained her undergraduate degree in psychology in 1982 and worked in the health care industry studying treatment outcomes before coming to the study of archaeology. She said her experience influenced her interest in ancient health care.
What she proposes, in papers with Dr. Oxenham and in a dissertation in progress, is a standard four-stage method for studying ancient remains of disabled or ill individuals with an eye to understanding their societies. She sets up several stages of investigation: first, establishing what was wrong with a person; second, describing the impact of the illness or disability given the way of life followed in that culture; and third, concluding what level of care would have needed.
10:48 a.m. | Updated Morgan Stanley is paying for its role in the troubled stock market debut of Facebook.
On Monday, Massachusetts’s top financial authority fined the bank $5 million for violating securities laws, the first major regulatory action tied to Facebook’s initial public stock offering.
William F. Galvin, the secretary of the commonwealth of Massachusetts, accused the bank of improperly influencing the stock offering process. The regulator’s consent order asserts that a senior Morgan Stanley banker coached Facebook on how to share information with stock analysts who cover the social media company, a potential violation of a landmark legal settlement with Wall Street. While the banker never contacted the analysts directly, his actions, Mr. Galvin said, put ordinary investors at a disadvantage because they lacked access to the same research.
“The broader message here is we are going to use any means possible to enforce the strict code in place about giving out information,” Mr. Galvin said in an interview. “We want to get the message across that if Wall Street wants to get confidence back, they can’t disadvantage Main Street.”
The consent order did not name the Morgan Stanley banker, referring to him as a “senior investment banker.” But information in the regulator’s order indicated that it was Michael Grimes, one of the nation’s most influential technology bankers.
“Morgan Stanley is committed to robust compliance with both the letter and the spirit of all applicable regulations and laws,” a Morgan Stanley spokeswoman, Mary Claire Delaney, said. Morgan Stanley, in settling the case, neither admitted nor denied guilt.
Mr. Grimes, through Ms. Delaney, declined to comment. Although the banker was referred to in the order, Mr. Grimes has not been personally accused of any wrongdoing.
The fine is a small dent in the firm’s overall profit from the Facebook public offering. Morgan Stanley received approximately $68 million in underwriting fees for the IPO, according to data provider Thomson Reuters.
Still, the costs associated with the botched I.P.O. are rising. In addition to Mr. Galvin’s fine, the firm agreed to compensate some customers who overpaid when they bought Facebook shares because of a technical glitch at the Nasdaq.
The Facebook public offering was one of the most highly anticipated debuts of the last decade. In the run-up to the offering, investor interest was robust, prompting the company to increase the size of the offering and raise the share price to $38.
But the I.P.O. quickly turned into a debacle. The first day of trading was plagued with problems. The shares quickly fell below their offering price. The stock closed on Monday at $26.75.
Since the offering, Mr. Galvin and other regulators have opened wide-ranging investigations into Facebook and the banks that handled its debut. The continuing inquiries by the Securities and Exchange Commission and the Financial Industry Regulatory Authority are examining how the banks disseminated nonpublic information to big investors — and whether it conflicted with Facebook’s public disclosures.
Regulators are also looking into Nasdaq, the exchange where Facebook trades. They are questioning whether the exchange failed to properly test its trading systems, which faltered during the stock offering.
The Massachusetts regulator is focused on Morgan Stanley’s communications with analysts.
Shortly before the Facebook offering, analysts at several banks lowered their growth estimates for the social network. The move came after Facebook issued an amended prospectus, detailing a potential slowdown in revenue.
A Facebook executive, whose name was not given in the order but who was referred to as the treasurer, also reached out to analysts. Mr. Galvin’s order asserted that the executive, in private conversations with analysts, had provided additional information on the revenue. The order indicated that Mr. Grimes was personally involved in the decision to file the new prospectus and to have Facebook communicate with analysts.
“Morgan Stanley’s senior investment banker did everything but make the phone calls himself,” the Massachusetts regulator said in a statement, referring to Mr. Grimes. “He not only rehearsed with Facebook’s treasurer who placed the calls to the research analysts, but he also drafted the majority of the script Facebook’s treasurer utilized.”
Just 12 minutes after filing the amended prospectus with regulators on May 9, the Facebook treasurer phoned Wall Street research analysts from her hotel, according to the order. She had a 15-minute conversation with Morgan Stanley analysts, and then spoke with JPMorgan Chase and other banks.
The calls provided the analysts with additional information that did not appear in the amended prospectus, the order said. The conversations, for example, included “quantitative information regarding Facebook’s” second-quarter 2012 projections.
This behavior, Mr. Galvin said, crossed the line, violating the regulatory settlement on stock research that Morgan Stanley and other companies signed in 2003. The agreement limits the communication between bankers and research analysts and bans companies from influencing stock reports to try to bolster banking operations.
The Morgan Stanley case falls into a curious gray area.
Bankers spend months preparing companies to go public, a role that includes providing guidance on research analysts. In this instance, Mr. Grimes did not personally place the calls, which would have been a clear violation of securities laws.
In his testimony before the Massachusetts regulator’s staff, Mr. Grimes indicated that the bank had pushed for Facebook to file publicly an amended prospectus to avoid “the appearance” that the company was sharing information with a select group of clients rather than broadly with investors. Mr. Grimes, the order noted, consulted with Morgan Stanley and Facebook lawyers. Ultimately, Facebook’s chief financial officer, David A. Ebersman, e-mailed the company’s board to say that the new filing would “help us to continue to deliver accurate” information without “someone claiming we are providing any selective disclosure.”
Mr. Grimes, in testimony with the regulator, further defended his role. While the Facebook treasurer was making the calls, he noted that “I was far down the hall so I wouldn’t hear anything.”
Even so, Mr. Grimes, according to the consent order, e-mailed Mr. Ebersman to say that the Facebook treasurer “was a champ in the hotel tonight,” after the treasurer wrapped up the calls.
A version of this article appeared in print on 12/18/2012, on page B1 of the NewYork edition with the headline: Morgan Stanley Is Fined Over Facebook I.P.O. Role.
LONDON — Dutch and Norwegian scientists say they have solved a glowing mystery: why Rudolph the reindeer’s nose is red.
By traveling to the Arctic and using video-microscope and thermal imaging technology, the scientists showed that the glow is from tiny blood vessels that are more abundant in the noses of reindeer than in humans’. Yes, seriously. The findings are being reported next week in BMJ, formerly known as The British Medical Journal, a publication with a quirky holiday tradition.
For the past 30 years, BMJ has devoted its Christmas-week issue to a lighter and sometimes brighter side of medicine, publishing unusual articles that vary from simply amusing to bizarre to creative or potentially important. All are based on methodologically sound science.
Alongside Rudolph on the cover of this year’s holiday issue is Cliff, a 2-year-old beagle who was trained by another Dutch team to accurately sniff out the sometimes fatal bacterial bowel infection Clostridium difficile and make the diagnosis in minutes — days faster than standard laboratory tests. The Christmas tradition began in 1982, originally intended as a one-time effort to give readers a break from stodgy scientific reports written in technical jargon. The editor then, Dr. Stephen P. Lock, recalled in an interview that he wanted to present “another side of medicine” by offering lighter reading: research oddities, bizarre stories and history. But this was no April fools’ issue: Dr. Lock insisted that the articles meet the same rigorous criteria as research published in regular issues.
Indeed, some articles in the holiday issue are also suitable for regular issues, said Dr. Tony Delamothe, the BMJ deputy editor who has overseen the last eight Christmas issues. “We are on an incessant search for novelty,” he said.
Over the years, BMJ Christmas reports have demolished myths, including a Danish one that people could get drunk by absorbing alcohol through the feet. After soaking their feet for three hours in a basin containing three bottles of vodka and measuring their blood alcohol levels, three Danish scientists found no such absorption.
The first Christmas issue included an account of a resuscitation from 1650 that still astounds today. An unwed 22-year-old mother in Oxford was condemned to death after being accused of murdering her premature, stillborn son and concealing his body. She was executed by hanging by the neck for half an hour while people present jerked her up and down.
At the time, the bodies of executed prisoners were given to doctors for anatomical dissection. Two doctors who opened the woman’s coffin were startled to hear raspy breaths. They revived her, and she went on to recover her memory and live another 15 years, marrying and giving birth to three children. The 17th-century doctors’ report met the criteria for a modern case report, wrote J. Trevor Hughes, the author of the 1982 article.
Dr. Lock, the editor, also encouraged historical back stories. In 1984, Dr. Charles Fletcher wrote about how he tested ways to safely administer the first precious batches of penicillin in 1941. The initial full test was on a 43-year-old British policeman who developed the widespread bacterial infection septicemia. He showed striking improvement from small doses of the antibiotic, but he died after the scarce supply — much of it recycled from his urine — ran out.
Many Christmas issue accounts would have upset earlier BMJ editors “like mad,” Dr. Lock said. “But so what?” he added. “It was fun.” Now there is so much competition for a spot in the issue that some authors submit papers early in the year and request publication at Christmastime.
Some articles poke fun at hoary traditions, such as diagnosing ailments in historical figures despite the lack of medical evidence. Mozart is a special favorite of armchair diagnosticians, Dr. Lucien R. Karhausen wrote in 2010 after tabulating articles reporting 140 possible causes of death and 27 mental disorders in the composer. Many, he said, were based on shoddy medical interpretations, undocumented “eyewitness accounts” or the ignoring of criteria that separate normal and abnormal behavior.
“Some causes are plausible,” Dr. Karhausen wrote, “only a few — maybe one, or maybe none of them — can be true, so most if not all are false.”
In 2006, BMJ reported on the results of a questionnaire sent to 110 members of the Sword Swallowers’ Association International. Forty-six members responded; they reported having swallowed more than 2,000 swords in the three preceding months. Sore throats (“sword throats”) were common during the learning phase, and after frequent repeated performances. Swallowers rarely sought medical advice. Of six who perforated their pharynx or esophagus, three needed surgery. No deaths were reported.
Still other articles play on the vanity of doctors, many of whose names are attached to instruments and syndromes. An article in 2010 extended the list to food products developed by doctors, including Kellogg’s Corn Flakes, various cookies, and Penfolds and Lindeman’s, the Australian wines.
As for the animals featured in this year’s holiday issue: The story of the infection-sniffing beagle began with a report from a nurse in the Netherlands, who mentioned that a patient’s stool had the distinctive odor of C. difficile — a bacterium that is causing serious and growing public-health problems in many countries, including the United States.
A team led by Dr. Marije K. Bomers at the VU University Medical Center in Amsterdam reasoned that it might be possible to train dogs to detect the infection, and Cliff the beagle did just that.
Cliff was trained to sit or lie down when he smelled C. difficile in the air walking by a patient’s bedside, and he also quickly and accurately identified all 50 stool samples with C. difficile and 25 of 30 infected patients — along with 50 stool samples free of the bacteria and 265 of 270 uninfected patients.
And the Dutch team that studied reindeer, working with researchers at the University of Tromso in the Norwegian Arctic, used a hand-held video microscope to observe the deer’s nasal capillaries as they ran on a treadmill.
The capillaries are arranged in circular clusters at different locations through the nose. Those in reindeer noses are 25 percent thicker than those observed in the human nose and are believed to perform critical roles like heating, delivering oxygen and humidifying inhaled air to keep the animal’s nose from freezing. (The leader of the team, Can Ince, a physiologist at Erasmus University Medical Center in Rotterdam, says he has a financial interest in the company that manufactures the technology, which is used to monitor reactions to various drugs and therapies among critically ill human patients.)
By showing that a large number of red blood cells flowed through the small nasal vessels, the scientists said they had unlocked the mystery of Rudolph’s red nose. May it long glow.
LONDON — Dutch and Norwegian scientists say they have solved a glowing mystery: why Rudolph the reindeer’s nose is red.
By traveling to the Arctic and using video-microscope and thermal imaging technology, the scientists showed that the glow is from tiny blood vessels that are more abundant in the noses of reindeer than in humans’. Yes, seriously. The findings are being reported next week in BMJ, formerly known as The British Medical Journal, a publication with a quirky holiday tradition.
For the past 30 years, BMJ has devoted its Christmas-week issue to a lighter and sometimes brighter side of medicine, publishing unusual articles that vary from simply amusing to bizarre to creative or potentially important. All are based on methodologically sound science.
Alongside Rudolph on the cover of this year’s holiday issue is Cliff, a 2-year-old beagle who was trained by another Dutch team to accurately sniff out the sometimes fatal bacterial bowel infection Clostridium difficile and make the diagnosis in minutes — days faster than standard laboratory tests. The Christmas tradition began in 1982, originally intended as a one-time effort to give readers a break from stodgy scientific reports written in technical jargon. The editor then, Dr. Stephen P. Lock, recalled in an interview that he wanted to present “another side of medicine” by offering lighter reading: research oddities, bizarre stories and history. But this was no April fools’ issue: Dr. Lock insisted that the articles meet the same rigorous criteria as research published in regular issues.
Indeed, some articles in the holiday issue are also suitable for regular issues, said Dr. Tony Delamothe, the BMJ deputy editor who has overseen the last eight Christmas issues. “We are on an incessant search for novelty,” he said.
Over the years, BMJ Christmas reports have demolished myths, including a Danish one that people could get drunk by absorbing alcohol through the feet. After soaking their feet for three hours in a basin containing three bottles of vodka and measuring their blood alcohol levels, three Danish scientists found no such absorption.
The first Christmas issue included an account of a resuscitation from 1650 that still astounds today. An unwed 22-year-old mother in Oxford was condemned to death after being accused of murdering her premature, stillborn son and concealing his body. She was executed by hanging by the neck for half an hour while people present jerked her up and down.
At the time, the bodies of executed prisoners were given to doctors for anatomical dissection. Two doctors who opened the woman’s coffin were startled to hear raspy breaths. They revived her, and she went on to recover her memory and live another 15 years, marrying and giving birth to three children. The 17th-century doctors’ report met the criteria for a modern case report, wrote J. Trevor Hughes, the author of the 1982 article.
Dr. Lock, the editor, also encouraged historical back stories. In 1984, Dr. Charles Fletcher wrote about how he tested ways to safely administer the first precious batches of penicillin in 1941. The initial full test was on a 43-year-old British policeman who developed the widespread bacterial infection septicemia. He showed striking improvement from small doses of the antibiotic, but he died after the scarce supply — much of it recycled from his urine — ran out.
Many Christmas issue accounts would have upset earlier BMJ editors “like mad,” Dr. Lock said. “But so what?” he added. “It was fun.” Now there is so much competition for a spot in the issue that some authors submit papers early in the year and request publication at Christmastime.
Some articles poke fun at hoary traditions, such as diagnosing ailments in historical figures despite the lack of medical evidence. Mozart is a special favorite of armchair diagnosticians, Dr. Lucien R. Karhausen wrote in 2010 after tabulating articles reporting 140 possible causes of death and 27 mental disorders in the composer. Many, he said, were based on shoddy medical interpretations, undocumented “eyewitness accounts” or the ignoring of criteria that separate normal and abnormal behavior.
“Some causes are plausible,” Dr. Karhausen wrote, “only a few — maybe one, or maybe none of them — can be true, so most if not all are false.”
In 2006, BMJ reported on the results of a questionnaire sent to 110 members of the Sword Swallowers’ Association International. Forty-six members responded; they reported having swallowed more than 2,000 swords in the three preceding months. Sore throats (“sword throats”) were common during the learning phase, and after frequent repeated performances. Swallowers rarely sought medical advice. Of six who perforated their pharynx or esophagus, three needed surgery. No deaths were reported.
Still other articles play on the vanity of doctors, many of whose names are attached to instruments and syndromes. An article in 2010 extended the list to food products developed by doctors, including Kellogg’s Corn Flakes, various cookies, and Penfolds and Lindeman’s, the Australian wines.
As for the animals featured in this year’s holiday issue: The story of the infection-sniffing beagle began with a report from a nurse in the Netherlands, who mentioned that a patient’s stool had the distinctive odor of C. difficile — a bacterium that is causing serious and growing public-health problems in many countries, including the United States.
A team led by Dr. Marije K. Bomers at the VU University Medical Center in Amsterdam reasoned that it might be possible to train dogs to detect the infection, and Cliff the beagle did just that.
Cliff was trained to sit or lie down when he smelled C. difficile in the air walking by a patient’s bedside, and he also quickly and accurately identified all 50 stool samples with C. difficile and 25 of 30 infected patients — along with 50 stool samples free of the bacteria and 265 of 270 uninfected patients.
And the Dutch team that studied reindeer, working with researchers at the University of Tromso in the Norwegian Arctic, used a hand-held video microscope to observe the deer’s nasal capillaries as they ran on a treadmill.
The capillaries are arranged in circular clusters at different locations through the nose. Those in reindeer noses are 25 percent thicker than those observed in the human nose and are believed to perform critical roles like heating, delivering oxygen and humidifying inhaled air to keep the animal’s nose from freezing. (The leader of the team, Can Ince, a physiologist at Erasmus University Medical Center in Rotterdam, says he has a financial interest in the company that manufactures the technology, which is used to monitor reactions to various drugs and therapies among critically ill human patients.)
By showing that a large number of red blood cells flowed through the small nasal vessels, the scientists said they had unlocked the mystery of Rudolph’s red nose. May it long glow.
