In Syria, Doctors Risk Life and Juggle Ethics By Jeffery DelViscio, Pedro Rafael Rosado, David Corcoran, Kriston Lewis, Robin Lindsay, Amy Rio and Abe Sater Samuel Aranda for The New York Times Doctors Without Fear: Amidst the crisis in Syria, medical professionals have taken up a herculean effort to provide needed care, and played an unsung role in exposing the use of chemical weapons to the world. WASHINGTON - Months before a chemical weapons attack killed hundreds of Syrians and prompted threats of an American military strike, an anesthesiologist named Majid heard an explosion near his home in a Damascus suburb. He rushed to the makeshift hospital where he works and found patients with itching skin, burning eyes and shortness of breath. Majid, who gave only his first name to protect his safety, collected hair and urine samples, clothing, tree leaves, soil and even a dead bird. He shared it with the Syrian American Medical Society, a humanitarian group that had been delivering such samples to American intelligence officials, as proof of possible chemical attacks. "We kept communicating with the State Department about what is next - they told us that these are limited attacks," said the society's president, Dr. Zaher Sahloul, adding that he had spoken with Robert S. Ford, the American ambassador to Syria, and Samantha Power, then a White House aide and now the United Nations envoy. It was very important for us to get this information out, but it took time to gain traction, and for the world to react. Now the world has reacted. United Nations inspectors have taken the first steps to destroy Syria's chemical stockpile. But while the Obama administration claims credit for pushing President Bashar al-Assad into giving up the arsenal, some experts say the real credit lies with the doctors who risked their lives - and confronted thorny questions of medical ethics - to bring to light the use of chemical weapons. Syria's civil war has been especially dangerous for health professionals; a United Nations report issued last month described the "deliberate targeting of hospitals, medical personnel and transports" as "one of the most alarming features of the Syrian conflict." By varying estimates, more than 100 doctors have been killed and as many as 600 have been imprisoned. The country's once-functioning health system is in a shambles. More than half of its public hospitals have been damaged in the two-year-old civil war and 37 percent are out of service entirely, according to a recent report by the World Health Organization. Many Syrian doctors have fled; those who remain describe dire conditions where even the most basic care is not available. Mothers are desperate to have their children vaccinated; patients with chronic conditions like heart disease and diabetes struggle to get medicine; and there is "huge anxiety in the population," said Dr. Adi Nadimpalli, a 38-year-old New Orleans pediatrician and internist who runs two hospitals in northern Syria for the humanitarian group Doctors Without Borders. Working among conflicting rebel factions has proved a delicate task. Dr. Nadimpalli cut a deal with the fighters: "They check their guns at the door." Chemical warfare - which appeared to begin with small-scale attacks this year and culminated in the sarin gas attack in August that killed hundreds of Syrians - made that difficult situation even more complex, posing ethical questions about whether, and how, to speak up. Doctors Without Borders, also known as M.S.F. for its French name, Médecins Sans Frontières, is operating six makeshift hospitals in the rebel-controlled north, without permission from the Assad government. In January, it also began secretly providing technical advice, medical equipment and drugs - including atropine, an antidote to nerve agents - to hospitals and clinics in regions controlled by the government. On Aug. 21, the group got word from some of its "silent partner" hospitals of a flood of patients with "neurotoxic symptoms" - roughly 3,600 in a period of three hours, including 355 who died. Within days, its leaders had convened a conference call to debate how to handle the sensitive information, said Sophie Delaunay, the executive director of Doctors Without Borders" United States operations. Any public statement, she and her colleagues knew, could put the group's doctors and their Syrian partners at risk, exposing them to accusations of siding with rebels and leaving them vulnerable to retaliation from government forces. And they feared that Western governments, including the Obama administration, could use their words as grounds for a military strike. The group issued a public statement nonetheless; the information, Ms. Delaunay said, was "too big" and "too credible" to be withheld. The carefully worded release asked for an independent investigation, saying Doctors Without Borders could "neither scientifically confirm the cause of these symptoms nor establish who is responsible for the attack." Soon, though, Mr. Kerry and Jay Carney, the White House press secretary, began citing Doctors Without Borders" findings as justification for military intervention, just as the group had feared. It followed with a second statement, cautioning again that its information "could not be used as evidence" to assign blame. A State Department official, speaking anonymously to discuss internal decision making, said that American officials had been gathering intelligence on chemical weapons, and that the work of doctors and humanitarian groups provided "just another indicator." But J. Stephen Morrison, a global health expert at the Center for Strategic and International Studies in Washington, said Ms. Delaunay and her colleagues "deserve an enormous amount of credit" for forcing the issue onto the international agenda. "They moved the global discussion forward," he said. It was very risky, and a tough call, and things could have gotten ugly for them. The debate over whether doctors should expose human rights abuses has long been "one of these inside baseball arguments within the humanitarian community," said Len Rubenstein, an expert on human rights and medical ethics at Johns Hopkins University. While Doctors Without Borders has a culture of "bearing witness," he said, not all humanitarian organizations do. The International Committee of the Red Cross, for instance, adheres to a strict code of political neutrality; it works inside a country only with the approval of the host government and typically does not make public statements that could jeopardize its ability to provide medical relief. Seven workers with the Red Cross and the Syrian Arab Red Crescent were abducted this month while assessing the medical situation in Syria; as of Monday, three were still being held. Sheryl Gay Stolberg reported from Washington and Anne Barnard from Beirut, Lebanon. Hwaida Saad contributed reporting from Beirut.