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Calls are increasing for American health care to be organized as a learning health care system, defined by the Institute of Medicine as a health care system 'in which knowledge generation is so embedded into the core of the practice of medicine that it is a natural outgrowth and product of the healthcare delivery process and leads to continual improvement in care.' We applaud this conception, and in this paper, we put forward a new ethics framework for it. No such framework has previously been articulated. The goals of our framework are twofold: to support the transformation to a learning health care system and to help ensure that learning activities carried out within such a system are conducted in an ethically acceptable fashion. [ABSTRACT FROM AUTHOR]

The rise of quality improvement research and comparative effectiveness research in health care settings constitutes progress toward the goal of what the Institute of Medicine has called a 'learning healthcare system,' in which we are 'drawing research closer to clinical practice by building knowledge development and application into each stage of the healthcare delivery process.' As clinical research and clinical practice move closer to a deliberately integrated system, the distinction between the two is increasingly blurred, although the sharp distinction in U.S. regulations and research ethics literature remains in place. In the 1970s and for two decades thereafter, this distinction was helpful: for some forms of research, it sheds light on which activities require ethical oversight. Research that is closely integrated with health care-notably, health delivery research-was then uncommon, however. That is no longer the case, and regulations and research ethics need to change to accommodate the new landscape. In this paper, we argue that conceptual, moral, and empirical problems surround the received view that we can and should draw sharp distinctions between clinical research and clinical practice. We start with the history of the research-practice distinction in the reports of a U.S. national commission and in U.S. federal regulations, and then offer a critical assessment of five characterizations of research that have been used in policy documents and the scholarly literature to try to make a sharp distinction between research and practice. We challenge the clarity and the tenability of these characterizations as a way of distinguishing research from practice. We argue that the received view of the research-practice distinction leads to overprotection of the rights and interests of patients in some cases and to underprotection in others. We contend that a new ethical foundation needs to be developed that facilitates both care and research likely to benefit patients, and that provides oversight that, rather than being based on a distinction between research and practice, is commensurate with risk and burden in both realms. [ABSTRACT FROM AUTHOR]

The rule of rescue describes the moral impulse to save identifiable lives in immediate danger at any expense. Think of the extremes taken to rescue a small child who has fallen down a well, a woman pinned beneath the rubble of an earthquake, or a submarine crew trapped on the ocean floor. No effort is deemed too great. Yet should this same moral instinct to rescue, regardless of cost, be applied in the emergency room, the hospital, or the community clinic? In health care, the desire to save lives at any cost must be reconciled with the reality of resource scarcity. As one example, the estimated cost for prophylactic Factor VIII to treat one patient with hemophilia for one year is $300,000. Costs of this magnitude have been accepted by public and private insurers in the developed world, even though, in principle, these sums could provide greater overall health benefit if allocated to pay for the unmet health care needs of many other patients. Looking forward, however, broad application of the rule of rescue will be increasingly untenable. But the moral instinct will remain: the desire to help those weakest among us, especially when their small numbers allow us to see them as unique individuals. What, then, is the ethical framework that can guide coverage and reimbursement decisions for orphan drugs into the future? [ABSTRACT FROM AUTHOR]