In defense of skepticism

I started thinking today about the problem of 'wild theories' - outlandish scientific ideas that challenge the status quo. Most of these are swiftly proven to be rot, but people will always caution the scientific community for being dismissive of such theories, in case one turns out to be the next breakthrough Copernicus or Newton. Should scientists give every theory the time of day, no matter how outlandish? I tend to think not, but haven't yet solidified why. What follows is a short explosion of my mind on the subject!

I also posted it on the BBC Focus Magazine forum, to invite debate, so that it may be improved in the future.

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Wherever you announce yourself as a skeptic, and denounce all crackpots of wild scientific theories, you will inevitably come under fire from those who point out the genius of so-and-so and such-and-such, who were once denounced as quacks and are now proved unquestionably correct. How can you possibly scoff at any offered theories, they will say, when you may be opressing the greatest intellect since Einstein?

It's my perhaps naive view however, if a theory is truly correct it will win out eventually. I don't mean to say that the truth is destined to be found, but rather that often the reason that theories are dismissed is product of the time they are posed in. Take heliocentrism, the idea that the planets revolve around the Sun, and that the Earth is not the centre of the universe. This story has several opressed heroes, from Copernicus to Galileo. The first person to formally pose a heliocentric model was Aristarchus of Samos (c. 270 BC), and the reason it orignally failed to take hold was the inability to recognise at the time how large the universe was, and how far away the stars were. Various philosophers and astronomers in the following centuries attempted to revise the theory, but it wasn't until a full mathematical model (allowing prediction of the positions of the planets) posed by Copernicus that it began to gain steam, and contempt. Over the coming centuries heliocentrism was variously accepted by some sectors of the Church and banned by others, as directly opposing Scripture. Even so, at Copernicus' relatively early time, the slow growth of the theory was more due to his own fears about the possibility of criticsim on philosophical, mathematical and religious fronts, preventing him from publishing his work until the year before his death. As with all good science, heliocentrism grew as observations confirming and enhancing it massed, until the theory accurately described all that was observed, ultimately with the understanding that the Sun was only one of an infinite system of suns we call the universe.

Another problem with condemning skepticism comes from those that assume a certain theory can only ever come from their one revered genius. Again I disagree; consider Charles Darwin and the theory of evolution. Darwin, like Copernicus, was a perfectionist in his work, and spent decades gathering evidence for his theory, knowing that is was a scientific revelation, a 'wild theory' that was likely to come under intense scrutiny and scorn from his peers. But even if scoffing scientists had prevented Darwin from publishing On the Origin of Species, there was already another evolutionary biologist waiting in the wings: Alfred Russel Wallace, who in 1858 proposed a theory of evolution by natural selection, independent of Darwin. Darwin's version only became famous because he had all the extra evidence behind his evetually published work.

Ideas like evoltuon, plate tectonics and an old Earth now seem obvious to us, the evidence is all around us, and as such I think it's foolish to assume we would still be living in the dark if it wasn't for that one bright spark; if things are so obvious they will inevitably be discovered.

Healthy skepticism of revolutionary ideas is necessary, as I want to demonstrate with a contemporary example. Around 13,000 years ago, North American 'megafauna', such as the wooly mammoth, mastodon, and sabre-toothed tiger, went extinct, along with a primitive culture known at the Clovis people. Various and numerous theories for this event have been proposed, from over-hunting and climate change to super-disease. The most recent theory however, first proposed in 2007, has attracted unprecedented attention. This is especially so in the media, since it involves something much more exciting than a cold snap or some germs: meteorites. When I first read the research paper (appropriately first-authored by one Richard Firestone), the evidence seemed overwhelming and compelling; microdiamonds and iridium indicating impact, carbon spherules from space in great concentrations, and charcoal and soot suggesting widespread fires; even if the speculation about possible impact sites raised my eyebrow.

However, I have heard vehement skepticism from many different parites over the past year, including dinner converation at a recent workshop I attended, and magazine coverage in Skeptical Inquirer. Some of these are specific complaints, such as terrestial and non-catastrophic explanations for the impact indicators, and no real evidence of continental-scale fires. My own supervisor even unearthed a purposeful omission of radiocarbon data the original authors made and only published later, in an obscure journal with spurious explanation as to why the dates were 'messed up'. But the most compelling reason to dismiss the theory as sensationalist is that increasingly, evidence points to the extinction of megafauna being gradual, and not sychronous amoung species. Some large mammal species even survived the 'event' althogether; a catastrophic end is unwarranted.

Why is it important for skeptical scientists to bring the full weight of argument against this theory? Because the public shouldn't be fooled into thinking the most exciting hypothesis is necessarily the right one. The American science TV show Nova devoted a whole hour-long episode to the theory in spring 2008, even funding an expedition to Greenland to collect more 'evidence', with few mentions of the numerous controversies and alternative theories.

Skepticism isn't, as some assume, a power-trip, or a way to make sure only your theory advances above others'. Skepticism is primarily to protect those not versed in scientific methods from being fooled, whether it be by homeopathy promising medical benefits it cannot deliver, or by theories which are flashy, and though may be proven correct in the future, at present ride more on their pizzaz than on their proof.

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My Medication

There's an issue in my life that has come up a few times recently, and I feel I should at last tackle it; the issue of properly assessing the drugs I'm taking. It's been going around in my mind since the medication was found to be the root of my intolerable Restless Leg Syndrome, and being accused of performing no better than a placebo, at first in a passing comment by a friend, and then in a magazine article I just read. Usually, as a curious scientist and a control-freak, I would have investiagted any such major voluntary change to the workings of my body immediately, but I suppose two things have prevented me; the first is that if it is a placebo effect, I would rather not read the evidence too carefully so that I could allow it to actually work; and second because I would feel the need to type up my findings here, and so expose my malady!

I'm not often bashful about my medical problems, but this is something I fear would change the idea some people have of me, and cause me to obtain a new and frightful label in their minds, reading everything I do with a new 'schema' of who I am. Please don't let it do that!

So here it is: since spring this year I have been taking Venlafaxine, a serotonin-norepinephrine reuptake inhibitor (SNRI): I have been affecting my brain chemistry in order to try and fight depression. I have known in fact for some years my tendency towards depression, not least because I am my mother's daughter and she has always been subject to terrific moods (plus she told me of a disturbing history of suicide in our female line - but no worries about that from me dear friends). I noticed some aspects of my life pulling me towards the darkness in previous years, but it wasn't until I moved to Finland two years ago that factors conspired to bring about a full collapse (there I was, a bright, ambitious new graduate, who was only able to find a job giving out free newspapers).

But enough about my personal life: let's just say I largely chose the drugs over therapy (although I do attend a biweekly 'support' group for insight), mostly because it is my belief that I do have the capacity to be happy, indeed four years ago I was just starting the happiest year of my so-far short life. All I need is a change my life situation, and I hoped the pills would clear my mind enough to let me make the right decisions. (Again, I don't want anyone to think this idea of science journalism is some starry-eyed dream of mine to escape my depression; I thought that way about moving to Canada for my PhD, and am not foolish enough to be so disappointed again. I don't expect to be magically cured by changing careers.)

At first, I was extremely pleased with the results: the anxiety that had often prevented me from leaving my bedroom, much less the building, was instantly dampened, so that I could engage in 'normal' behaviour (it's not really a fear of the ouside world, more of having to deal with people). I weighed it up and decided it was likely not a placebo effect, since I had no real expectations of what the pills would do for me anyway. I felt happy for a while (well, at least more active). Then, more recently, much of the anxiety has returned, to my great frustration, and that of my poor partner, who, although he admits he doesn't understand it, thankfully supports me anyway. Maybe it was just a placebo after all?

I finally decided to investiage my drugs after painful Restless Legs and admittance of my ailment to my parents, as well as mounting momentum of the idea that the 'new' antidepressants (i.e. SSRIs [e.g. Prozac], as opposed to older Tricyclics [e.g. chlorpromazine]) were no better than placebos, at least for mild-moderate depression sufferers (I am certainly not severe, I tested myself using a standard practitioner's test, and although I'm sure I would assess myself differently than a professional, even my most pessimistic view of my state does not score highly enough, requiring 28 to be deemed 'severe').

A lot of the recent news and magazines articles asserting that antidepressants perform statistically no better than placebos relate back to a study by Irving Kirsch and others, who performed a meta-analyses of drug trials (analysing a larger dataset collected from a number of seperate studies). They concluded that placebos were just as good as the prescribed drugs, making the distinction that when the drugs did perform better, it was because of less patient response to the placebo, not greater response to the drug.

In a quick flurry of Google-research before boaring the plane I'm now on (although it's probably a few days of editing before I post this... if fear of 'exposure' doesn't prevent me from doing so altogether) I read three very different sources of information and opinion about the subject. The first is a much-quoted British Medical Journal article summing-up the findings of the meta-analysis. The second was a New York Times article that thought more skeptically about the result of a similar study published a few years ago. It discussed the short span of many of the original studies, lasting only a matter of weeks, when some antidperessants can take up to six weeks to start showing any effectiveness. These also miss any longer term effects, such as the likelihood of the placebo effect being relatively short-lived, whereas antidepressants are more likely to keep being effective in the long-term. Do some of these same concerns affect the results of the new study? I also wondered myself if any of the original studies or the meta-analysis took into account whether the subject was receiving therapy or not.

The last source I read was a short piece from a medical professional's blog. Keeping away from the science of drug tests and placebos, he focused more on the question of, as a person with depression, what should you do with this information? His answer was simple: whatever is best for you. If you think a placebo will do just as well for you, fine. If you believe the drug is having real, tangible effects on your life, good, keep at it. If you want to try a different antidperessant, you can do that too. I don't entirely agree with his position, especially sine he calls Kirch's research 'his opinion'. Also, suggsesting that selecting between a sugar pill and something equally as effective, but tenfold the cost, is a sensible choice is on shady moral ground (although in this case, the jury for antidepressants is clearly still out, needing that old line of 'more research'). He also says the new family of antidepressants are not as powerful, which is likely true, but blames their lack of use on fierce marketing of newer drugs, rather than on the much worse side effects of the old drugs.

However, it was the only piece I read that allowed me, as a consumer, to re-evaluate my position. My choices are: come off the antidepressants (at the moment not an option, since my dose means quite a sharp and unpleasant withdrawal, which I have encountered on some level when forgetting to take the pills for even one day); carry on as normal (with, at present, no improvement in my mood or ability to concentrate, although I constantly wonder if the me of six months ago would agree with that, after all, I am keeping up this blog at least); or switch pills. In the end, antidepressants are never meant to cure depression, only allow the user to think about their position with a clear mind, which is exactly what I want out of them. I only 'turned myself in' because the inability to function properly was starting to impact my ambition (and my relationship, the final straw).

I'm not sure entirely which option to take yet, but one thing is for sure, next appointment I will ask my doctor what their opinion is on the issue. I hope they engage me: the worst thing would be accepting medication from a professional not versed in the controversies of their own field.

Palaeochronology Building Workshop

I think I came across too harsh in my last post about Mexico, there are many things I like about the place. It's a lot safer than all the kidnap and mugging statistics suggest (if you stick to the right neighbourhoods), and I never saw a hint of trouble. It was also a romantic place, young couples adorning park benches and statues staring into each other's eyes. It was pleasantly surprising also to find many of those couples were the same sex. Mexico: proving Jesus and freedom of sexuality can co-exist!

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Anyway, on to the the workshop. A workshop is something different from a conference, where you go to learn and swap ideas about a certain topic. Often, new research and papers are formulated afterwards, as opposed to a conference where finished research is presented for discussion. They're usually smaller, at this session there were only around 27 people, a perfect group for discussions and individual problem solving.

The workshop I attended was for 'palaeochronology building', which in the broad sense is trying to find the most accurate methods to date events in the past. In practice, it involves mostly working with statistical age-depth models. Say I dig up a core of peat 3 metres long, and it has 5 tephra layers in it. I can't radiocarbon date the tephra directly, so I sample the core at various intervals for things to date (twigs, charcoal, seeds, etc.). When I get the dates back, I have to find some way to estimate, from lining up the dates with depth, the ages of the tephra layers between the dates. That involves taking into account the standard errors on the dates given, and any possible changes in the 'sedimentation rate' between the dates: that is the rate at which the peat was deposited, for example when each cm represents 10 years, or a faster rate of 20 years.

In the workshop we were introduced to some of the probability maths involved in making such age-depth models, but to be honest, I've never had a head for that stuff, so I'm happy to trust the mathematical skills of the folks that write the computer programs and learn how to use their tools! Manipulating models, problem solving, writing code... that is more fun for me, and by the end of 5 days of learning, meddling, and chatting, I had figured out how to solve all my tephra-age issues with the most up-to-date methods.

This makes me feel really good. Why? Because, for the first time since I arrived in Canada, I'm the expert at something in my lab. So far, everyone has been telling me what to do, what I've done wrong, how I should do things.... and now, I know how to do things, and why to do things, that no-one else does. Perhaps it sounds petty to want to be superior at something, but it's important to me that I'm doing something original; if I was just learning I might as well be an undergraduate again, but being able to create and work on something myself is real research. I'm looking forward to completing my Master's thesis now: I really feel like it will be worth something.

Megacities

I grew up in a relatively small south-coast-seaside town in England, and big cities never held much attraction for me. However, I had always wanted to see Tokyo, having the impression of it being the densest and brightest swarm of human population on the planet. Despite preferring small towns, I wanted to experience the other end of the spectrum, and finally got the chance back in May.

Then, I decided to go to a workshop in mid-Mexico (which I’m currently at, more about this later), and realised the opportunity to spend a few days in Mexico City, a place I would never normally consider for a holiday. Mexico City and Tokyo are both megacities, with huge populations and dense living. However, almost as soon as I touched down in Mexico City I couldn’t help comparing the two; they were immediately so different.

Tokyo pleasantly surprised me, so much so that I actually fell in love with the place. The streets were clean. The metro system was intuitive and efficient. The people were polite to a fault and I always felt safe. This probably comes across as a rose-tinted view, and perhaps it is, but I was so enchanted to find a gigantic city that suited me. My Finnish beau and I always joke that I have a very Scandinavian preference for efficiency. Tokyo has a reputation for being busy: there are many photos of the famous Shinjuku crossing, where a mass of black heads and suits rush across the road as the lights change, but in reality it’s a very calm busy. In Tokyo you will rarely be bumped, never hear a crossed word in a crowd, and seldom be interrupted by a beeping horn. Mexico City is a much more selfish busy, raging with noise and chaos: tiring and terrifying. That’s not to say it doesn’t have its quiet moments in parks and gardens, but as a whole the city seems to lurch and roll more.

For me, this is disconcerting, but it’s probably a lot of fun for people who like words like ‘flavour’, ‘vibe’ and ‘colour’. But apart from the living city, the buildings are also different. I don’t mean architecture as such, but rather the impression that Tokyo is more ‘complete’ than Mexico City. While sitting across from one of the numerous building sites at various stages in the centre of Mexico City, I asked my boyfriend if he remembered seeing any construction in Tokyo. Neither of us could. To me, this seems to represent a city satisfied, whereas Mexico City is a place not quite certain of its character, still growing and evolving.

These are of course first impressions, and I’m a firm believer that you can never really know a place until you live there (hence why I’ve already lived in 4 countries), but there they are!

Collapse

Phew, I finally finished reading Collapse by Jared Diamond! (Dearest AJ, if you're reading this, I'm sorry it took me so long, I confess to finding a chore and read a few other books 'at the same time').

Reading many of the chapters and stories was informative and interesting, learning about the paths past and present cultures have taken, but the bulk of the 'message', Diamond's theory, was left in the last couple of chapters, which took little time to read. I was somewhat worried that by the time I got to 'the point' I would have forgotten about all the details of the societies detailed before, since it had been quite a while since I read about them, but this really wasn't the case.

I understand that Diamond wanted it to be a thoroughly researched piece with numerous in-depth examples of many of his key problem areas, but to me, it seemed like overkill. Even though he was discussing different cultures, past and present, there was a lot of repetition. I believe the reason I read the last couple of theoretical chapters so quickly was because I was glad to finally get into the meat of the argument, and to have only littered examples where necessary to illustrate points. Of course, he did mention the societies of previous chapters in these arguments too, but I still couldn't shake the feeling I'd waded through a waterlogged pitch when I could have easily ran over greener grass to reach the same goal.

Although the level of research is definitely of value, and each study of a single culture is fascinating in its own right, for the purposes of a popular book I feel it would have benefited from more of an 'executive summary' approach. Like Stephen Hawking's 'A Briefer History of Time'.

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In other news, my first-ever news article has now been published in the student newspaper and online here. At first reading I was a little 'disappointed' (for lack of a better word) about some of the things the editor had changed, but realised these were mostly in the first couple of sentences, and understandable of course. Most of it is still my words ;-)

Ahh, I am an obsessive and an over-analyser, but perhaps that's useful when starting out, to help me learn my mistakes quickly and improve swiftly. Although it doesn't help with the restless leg syndrome.

Lastly, I remembered today my first published piece - published only online, but I was paid for it! It was for the Icelandic tourist board about my year studying there. It was a much freer piece and it was fun to write... I like indulging in lyrical writing sometimes. Never was any good at poetry though. Anyway, you can read that piece here.