Dear Prudence
No, not the Beatles’ song, the advice column on Slate.com! I love Emily Yoffe’s advice, and the sense of humor in her columns and videos, but I have to say I found something lacking in the answers she gave regarding this math grad student who wrote to her during a Washington Post chat a few days ago. Here’s the student’s original question and her reply.
Philadelphia, Penn.: I’m a graduate student in mathematics, and my particular area is very abstract. When people ask me what I do, or see me with a textbook and ask what I’m reading, no matter how simplified an explanation I give them, inevitably the person remarks that my area is “way beyond” them or that they’d “never be able to grasp that”. I always want to tell them, “You definitely won’t with that attitude.” To me, all of these concepts are perfectly intuitive, and while I’m certainly aware that not everyone has my capacity for, or interest in, mathematics, I am still annoyed by all of these people putting themselves down to me—did they ever try to understand the subject? At least some of them might find it easier and more interesting than they expected! For some reason, they all seem to take pride in how poor their math ability is, or at the very least they aren’t troubled by it. Should I be harsher and just say “Yes indeed, this is much too hard for you”? How do you suggest I respond to these kind of comments?
Emily Yoffe: A few years ago, in an attempt to help my daughter with her math homework, I enrolled in the elementary school math prep program, Kumon. I scored at the first grade level. Even if I tried, I probably couldn’t truly understand what you’re doing. But I would be interested if you could explain what this math is used for—modeling subprime mortgages? Global warming? Then we’d have something to talk about. So ignore the self-put downs, and don’t add any of your own. Instead think of it as an opportunity to show that what you do is interesting and can—on some level—be grasped.
Later in the chat, someone else wrote in to say exactly what I’d been thinking. If I didn’t know better (I didn’t even know about this chat thing until yesterday), I’d have sworn it was actually me.
“Math? That’s over my head”: I think this writer deserves more of an answer. I’m a woman in physics, and nearly everyone makes a self-deprecating comment when I say so. The point really is this: there is a cultural pride in innumeracy that doesn’t exist for illiteracy—no one will brag about not being able to read, yet feel free to essentially brag about not being good at math. This is not people being candid about their abilities. It actually is a way of dismissing the importance of the field of study by implying that it has no cultural necessity or meaning. There has to be a way of responding to this, but subtly encouraging people to believe that it can be understood (with perhaps some effort—but what doesn’t take effort?). Most people can do math to at least the calculus level with time and effort, not talent. And most people can understand even high mathematical concepts, if not perform them, if they’d get past the mental block. This hurts everybody!
Emily Yoffe: I’m sure most people could change their carburetor with some time and effort, too. Instead of lecturing people about how their innumeracy hurts everyone, understand that people are complimenting you on your impressive skills. So come up with some things to say about your field that can engage even the innumerate, like me, in conversation.
I get what she’s saying here. In terms of polite conversation, certainly it’s inappropriate to lecture and berate someone who was just trying to make small talk with you. And people in math/science fields should certainly work on a simplified, clear description of their job so that they can explain it to people without four hours and a chalkboard. That part, I buy.
What I think Emily doesn’t understand, though, is that it’s quite possible (really, extremely probable) that this math grad student is not doing anything that is useful for anything, in a way that could be explained without four hours and a chalkboard. There’s a whole lot more to math than calculus and statistics. She asks, “But I would be interested if you could explain what this math is used for—modeling subprime mortgages? Global warming?” I can easily imagine the answer is, “Nothing.” Nothing like that, at least. Maybe it’s just used for solving other problems that pretty much only exist in the world of mathematics.
That’s not to say that it will never be used for anything else. There are plenty of theorems proved long ago by mathematicians that were only recently discovered to be useful for describing physical systems. The thing is, that’s not the point. We don’t expect all occupations or fields of study to be “useful” in some way that drastically betters the course of human history. Sometimes, they’re just interesting or enjoyable. Sometimes, it’s not useful in the sense of building a better mousetrap or curing the common cold, but useful in the sense of adding to our understanding of what we are made of and how the universe works. Even if we can’t build tiny computers out of that understanding, it’s good that people are developing it.
My advice to the math grad student would be: tell people how interested you are in your research. Tell them how much you love solving puzzles, and how satisfying it is to complete a proof. Then ask them about their job, and move the conversation along elsewhere.
I was saddened to see that our Dear Prudence doesn’t give any advice to the people approaching math grad students everywhere and saying things like, “Pshew, math! That stuff is way over my head.” My guess is, from the way she answers, that she has on occasion been that person. I would hope that people who make those kind of comments learn two things. First, it’s incredibly other-izing; second, it kills the conversation and puts the burden of recovery on the person you’re speaking to. Those two things make it rude, so you should find some other way to respond.
Let’s deal with the first issue. Comments like “Oh, I could never do that” and the like make it sound as though the mathematician (or scientist) is some kind of alien being imbued with freakish abilities. You may think it sounds like a compliment, but it doesn’t feel like one. It’s usually said with a tone of surprised disdain—it’s not just that you don’t know the math, but also that you would never, ever want to—so it sounds like you’re saying, “You could never be a normal person like me.”
Secondly, when people say things like, “I could never do that”… we already know. We operate under the assumption that most of the people we interact with outside the university do not have graduate degrees in math or science. You are saying something as obvious as, “Occasionally, it is cloudy outside.” Additionally, the natural responses to a statement such as this are either self-aggrandizing, insulting, or patronizing, and that is an awkward position to be put in. We struggle to find a way to respond to your remarks—hence the letter to an advice columnist. Good small talk doesn’t just mean saying the first thing that comes to mind, no matter how inane or impossible it is to answer. If you’re going to kill the conversation, do it in such a way that places the burden on yourself, and transition to a new thing to talk about.
There are bigger issues here—as we’ve said before, they encourage the already-widespread belief that it’s fine to be bad at math—but I thought it was worth pointing out that, in addition, they make for really unpleasant conversation.
Carnival of the Elitist Bastards XI
Welcome to the eleventh edition of the Carnival of the Elitist Bastards. CEB is a monthly blog carnival that celebrates the intelligent and the exceptional, and decries willful ignorance and uniformity. Some may call us elitist bastards, but we prefer the term “awesome.” I thought the submissions this time fell into three general categories: politics/policy issues, science and other fact-related pursuits, and everyday life stuff. Let’s dig in:
Elitist law, politics, and policy
Stephanie Zvan at Almost Diamonds explains the Employee Free Choice Act. Not content to listen to generalizations from the Wall Street Journal and others reporting on the proposed legislation, she read it herself in order to break down what it really says and does.
Mike at The Big Stick discusses why a revolving door for teachers isn’t so bad. He argues that alternative certification procedures would allow more qualified and excited individuals to become teachers, and that’s better than the status quo for students even if these new teachers leave after a few years for other jobs.
Cujo359 at Slobber and Spittle writes about what history can teach us, specifically regarding the Obama administration’s public statements compared to the outcomes of Obama’s policies as president. King John didn’t write the Magna Carta on a whim alone one day; the British aristocracy held him accountable and pushed for the type of government they wanted.
Just the elitist facts, ma’am
John Pieret at Thoughts in a Haystack deconstructs statements from the Discovery Institute’s Michael Egnor, who argued that intelligent design ought to be taught as science since most Americans are creationists. John points out that this reveals not only that the real agenda behind ID is creationism, but also that ID proponents seem to think science is merely a popularity contest.
Dana Hunter at En Tequila Es Verdad recommends two books by Richard Dawkins on understanding evolution. The Blind Watchmaker and Climbing Mount Improbable deal with the somewhat non-intuitive idea that complex beings could have “randomly” evolved. Understanding what the word “random” really means is one of the most interesting parts.
Blake Stacey at Science after Sunclipse mourns the death of the Boston Globe’s Health/Science section. They’re going to push a few science-related articles into the business and lifestyle sections if they fit, both space-wise and content-wise it seems.
Two people sent in links about Jon Stewart’s takedown of financial reporter Jim Cramer on The Daily Show. After a week-long feud between the two (Stewart mocked CNBC in a brief segment and Cramer took it upon himself to defend his show “Mad Money” and the station as a whole), Cramer came to Stewart for an interview. It’s pretty painful. Dana Hunter walks you through the gory details. Cujo359 turns it into a case study about how being ignorant of the facts and encouraging ignorance in others spells disaster for anyone, whether you’re a TV personality or not.
Living the elitist life
George at Decrepit Old Fool suggests that we do one impossible thing every year — not literally impossible, but seemingly impossible, something we can’t do yet and maybe never imagined we’d try. He’s learning to ride a unicycle. What will you do?
Blake Stacey also alerts us of the coining of the word TeXgefühl. If you’ve ever written in the typesetting system LaTeX or its variants, you’ll appreciate the notion that it takes a particular instinctive sense to get it right. My TeXgefühl has been gathering a bit of dust lately, but I think the existence of a word is motivating me to get it back in gear.
Here at It’s the Thought that Counts, I wrote about the Spread the Word to End the Word campaign (against the word “retarded”) and why it’s misguided. Respect for others is important, but I think we shouldn’t confuse respect with blind political correctness.
That wraps up CEB XI. Thanks for stopping by! It’s been an honor and a pleasure to host. See you next month!
Ada Lovelace Day
Perhaps you recall my pledge a couple months back to participate in Ada Lovelace Day, a blogging celebration of women in technology. (Lovelace was the first computer programmer, even before there were computers. She wrote code for Babbage’s analytical engine before it was built.) The pledge needed 1,000 signers to go into effect, and as of right now it has nearly twice that: 1,980. Nearly two thousand people are writing today about a woman in technology they admire. Too cool!
I’ve chosen to write about Stephanie Kwolek, the DuPont chemist who is best known for having invented Kevlar (poly-paraphenylene terephtalamide) in 1964. Five times as strong as steel, Kevlar has found many applications, from sports equipment to synthetic woodwind reeds to bulletproof vests. Kwolek worked on many other synthetic materials, including Lycra and Spandex (probably pretty familiar to you), Nomex (flame-resistant and used by firefighters and race car drivers), and Kapton (used in flexible electronics and space suits).
Stephanie Kwolek graduated in 1946 with a B.S. in chemistry from Margaret Morrison Carnegie College, the now-closed women’s college associated with Carnegie Mellon University. She wanted to go on to medical school but couldn’t afford it, and interviewed for a research position at DuPont. I love this story about her interview:
After [W. Hale] Charch indicated that he would let her know in about two weeks whether she would be offered a job, Kwolek asked him if he could possibly make a decision sooner since she had to reply shortly to another offer. Charch called in his secretary and in Kwolek’s presence dictated a job offer letter. In later years, reflecting upon this bold request for a woman to make in 1946, she suspected that her assertiveness influenced his decision in her favor.
Kwolek holds 28 patents and has won many awards recognizing her contributions to the polymers industry. In 1995 she was inducted into the National Inventors Hall of Fame. In 1996 she won the National Medal of Technology “for her contributions to the discovery, development and liquid [crystal] processing of high-performance aramid fibers which provide new products worldwide to save lives and benefit humankind.” She also won the Lemelson-MIT Lifetime Acheivement Award in 1999.
Kwolek’s biography in the “Winner’s Circle” on the Lemelson-MIT Program’s website catalogues her many contributions, and also notes that she began her education and career in chemistry
during a time when women were encouraged to be homemakers instead of going to school. Inspired and supported by her parents to pursue this route, Kwolek comments, “I recommend that parents encourage their daughters to pursue scientific careers, if they are so inclined, in the same way they would their sons. The opportunities for both sexes are far more equal now.” Though she faced gender discrimination as she rose to the top, she paved the way for other aspiring female scientists and now serves as a mentor to many.
I found this profile of Kwolek, originally broadcast on public radio as part of a series on women in science. It sounds like she’d be an amazing mentor. She’s certainly an inspiration:
“I discovered over the years,” she said, “that I seemed to see things that other people did not see. Generally, if things don’t work out, I don’t just throw them out, I struggle over them, to try to see if there’s something there. You have to be inquisitive about things. You have to have an open mind.”
That same program notes that as a child, Kwolek had dreamed of being a fashion designer. It makes a nice story, to have wanted to be a fashion designer or a doctor, and end up using chemistry to design fabrics that save lives. I think it’s also interesting in terms of our preconceptions about what being a scientist means and what scientists ought to care about. It’s another reminder that liking traditionally feminine things is not mutually exclusive with being a successful scientist. Additionally, it underscores the fact that the messages we send children matter. Kwolek’s parents could have fostered only her interest in sewing, but they encouraged her to study science. If they hadn’t, the world would really be missing out.
Entertainment, meet science
Although I felt a little guilty at the time for not sitting in technical talks at every opportunity, I’m really glad I stopped in at the Physics and Culture session at the APS March Meeting. (Professor Natelson, I agree with your student — it’s too bad you missed it!) There were several talks that discussed the (typically low) accuracy of science in popular movies and television, and how scientists ought to feel about it. The general consensus among the speakers was that, though we should try for greater accuracy, even bad science was all right because it got people interested in science and it provided a springboard from which we could begin conversations about how to do it right.
One of these speakers was Jennifer Ouellette from the National Academy of Sciences, explaining the NAS’s Science and Entertainment Exchange program. Basically, they match up directors and producers with scientific experts, so that whatever they’re directing and producing can be informed by the scientist’s expertise. This isn’t just about sci-fi flicks. Any time you have special effects, you have to make decisions about how you represent physics on-screen. (Of course, even when you live in a fantasy universe, there are some things we have trouble suspending our disbelief about.) Maybe you just want someone lecturing on math or science in the background of a scene, and you want to make sure what they’re saying is at all coherent. There are many contexts in which the Exchange can make, and has been making, valuable contributions.
I was really excited to hear about this program, and I think it’s great that the NAS is coordinating it. As Ivan Schuller (who spoke later) pointed out, people get bored if you tell them you’re going to “educate” them, but they can’t wait to be “entertained.” It’s good for scientists to make friends with Hollywood, because they can help us teach people things without making them feel like they’re being taught… but it’s next to impossible to do alone. An organization to act as an interface is a brilliant idea.
If you want to be in SEE’s database of scientists they can contact, let them know! (Contact information is on their website.) Jennifer told us that they’re actually looking for more condensed matter / materials science experts… but maybe she was just catering to the March Meeting crowd.
Thoughts from March Meeting
I had a great time at the APS March Meeting. Since I’m attempting to blog anonymously, I’m not going to get into the specifics of which talks I found most interesting/relevant to my research, but there are a few more general things I want to talk about over the next couple days. I’ll discuss some more fun things in the future, but for now, a somewhat grumpy bit about mentoring graduate students.
One of the moments during the meeting which really stuck with me was when a professor got up to give a contributed talk and explained why he was standing there, rather than his doctoral student (whose name was listed in the program). He said something like, “My student was going to give this talk originally, but I decided it was too important not to present myself, so I pushed him away. [chuckle] I hope he isn’t too mad at me.” (The use of the verb “pushed” I remember clearly.) After a brief pause, there was some (I think nervous) laughter from the audience, then he plunged into the rest of his talk.
For what it’s worth, though the talk did cover a reasonably important development, they weren’t the only group talking about it or the first ones to have demonstrated it, and their results weren’t particularly breathtaking as far as I could tell. What I think happened was that a more well-known group was reporting similar results, and when this professor saw the abstracts scheduled, he wanted to seem just as cool as them. But I’m willing to grant for the sake of a thought experiment that the results are actually unique and important. Also, for clarity’s sake: plenty of people give talks for other people at March Meeting. Sometimes people are sick or unexpectedly busy and unable to make it, and someone else in their group covers for them. It’s no big thing. So that part’s not my issue.
I may just be lucky — no, I know I’m lucky — to have an exceptionally nice advisor… but doesn’t this professor’s behavior seem really out of line? I know he’s the one in charge, and (in some cases) the one working day and night in order to win the favor of his tenure committee, but I don’t see any reason for stepping in in this case other than sheer arrogance and credit-greediness. He could have given his own talk; it is okay for multiple talks to come from the same group. (Though he would have had to come up with something at least slightly different to talk about.) The first and, if you want, last slide in the talk can have the professor’s name on it. Really big, if you like. With a picture, so everyone can recognize and find him later if they want, for congratulations or questions. He can make sure to be in the audience. It’s not considered really out-of-line for PIs to jump in during the Q&A period after a talk with more thorough answers than their students give, or offers to discuss issues after the session, so he could have made himself visible to other conference attendees that way too.
I can imagine a professor trying to do important things and get credit for them in order to impress his or her superiors (to get tenure, to get a promotion, to get some other special responsibility assigned to them, etc.). What I can’t imagine is that the tenure committee, or department head, or whoever, cares who is standing in the front of this breakout room in the Pittsburgh conference center to give this 10-minute talk. It doesn’t change whose name is listed in the official record! And presumably all that matters to the tenure committee (or whomever) is that important work was done under the supervision and guidance of this professor. Training brilliant and successful graduate students probably also matters to them, a little bit, yeah? So, having your grad student give this important talk at March Meeting on behalf of your lab is presumably just as good as you giving it yourself, if not better, in terms of your own career advancement.
For the student, on the other hand, being recognized at the conference is potentially a lot more important. Networking is significantly harder when you’re one of the small fish, and a great way to meet people is for them to approach you and ask you questions after your talk. That student is probably going to want a postdoc position someday, probably in the not-so-distant future! It’s not crazy to imagine that he’d end up making contacts in other groups that could lead to eventual postdocs or even permanent jobs.
In talking about this with others, I heard the suggestion that the student might have been terrible at the talk during practices beforehand, and the professor could have been stepping in to save face for his group. In that case, though, I think there’s no reason to explain it this way in front of the audience. (Maybe it’s the explanation you give your student if it’s the last minute and you just can’t convince him he’s unprepared.) You say something like, “My student wasn’t able to present this talk today, so I’m taking his place.” Something that makes it sound like he could have been sick, though you might leave it ambiguous if you’re really averse to little white lies.
Why rant about this, Z? you are probably asking. This one guy was a jerk. Big deal. Well, I’ve read and heard other people’s accounts of working with nightmarish advisors, so I know he’s not the only jerk out there. Also, if I saw one guy like this in during the small slice of the conference I attended (12 out of 14 sessions, minus a few talks here and there that became part of my lunch breaks), there are probably a few more. Each session has about 40 rooms of simultaneous talks. If we assume I saw a reasonable sampling of personalities at the conference, that predicts more than a handful of other professors out there like this one (not to mention a few more who think his behavior is okay but didn’t happen to act like him this time).
I just wanted to put it out there on the tubes that I think this sort of behavior on the part of a professor is inappropriately selfish and not at all constructive. I’m very interested in hearing the opinions of others out there in academic-blogger-land, on how frequent this sort of thing is and whether it’s as bad as it seems to me. (Those links are to people I thought of off the top of my head who’d probably have something to say on this, but this question goes out to everyone.) Tell me: am I very sheltered, or right to be outraged?
Great idea, Guardian!
The Guardian, a UK newspaper, has decided to free its facts. Not only is their Data Store available to the public to peruse and use, but they want to hear from us what we discover in their data. (By the way, that’s “store” in the sense of storage facility, not in the sense of a business.) The Guardian’s editor-in-chief, Alan Rusbridger, sums it up:
Every day we will publish the raw statistics behind the news and make it easy to export in any form you like. It is about freedom of information. But it is not a one-way process – we want you to tell us what you have done with the data and what we should do with it. The facts are sacred — and they belong to all of us.
They have datasets on demographics, health, education, the military, the economy, the environment…. I’m very impressed. If you’ve ever tried to do research in the social sciences, you know firsthand how difficult it is to get your hands on files like these. It’s fantastic that someone is making some of them freely available and collecting them in one place.
If you want to see the Guardian’s data, head over to their Data Store now!
Skeptics’ Circle #105: The Shakespeare Edition
Welcome to the 105th edition of the Skeptics’ Circle. It’s a privilege to be hosting such a fine carnival here at It’s the Thought that Counts. I hope you enjoy your stay at our humble blog.
In honor of the 105th edition, we’re going to take a look at William Shakespeare’s Sonnet 105. Although of course it’s actually about the beauty, gentleness, and loyalty of one’s beloved, I think we can give it a skeptical reading if we try hard enough. And with Valentine’s Day right around the corner, a love poem seemed appropriate. So let’s get right to it!
Let not my love be call’d idolatry,
Nor my beloved as an idol show,
What better way to open a meeting of skeptics? Several submissions focused on questioning facts assumed to be unchallengeable. One blogger unwilling to engage in such idolatry of assumptions was Karl Haro von Mogel at Biofortified, who can’t find a kernel of truth to anti-GMO groups’ claims that President Obama promised to mandate labeling of genetically modified foods. In other biology idolatry news, Jeremy at the Agricultural Biodiversity Weblog discussed the claim that 98% of the world’s seeds come from six companies. Is that a real fact, or is it a great example of Bellman’s Theorem?
Since all alike my songs and praises be
No problem — skepticism doesn’t have to be applied only to rare or outlandish things. Sometimes the everyday provides perfect opportunities to exercise one’s critical thinking skills. Marty, of Marty’s Place, wrote about the natural explanations for his apparent telekinetic and psychic powers over his refrigerator and car stereo. Meanwhile Matt, the Skeptical Teacher, explained how fortune cookies don’t know your fortune, even if they appear to help someone win the lottery on occasion — and how the same is true for psychics.
While we’re on the subject of psychics: Seth Manapio, of Whiskey Before Breakfast…The Blog reminded us that psychics are con artists, using false advertising to trick people into believing them. He argued that we shouldn’t blame a psychic’s customer for getting scammed, just as we shouldn’t blame a rape victim for getting raped.
To one, of one, still such, and ever so.
Some people think that if you hold a particular viewpoint, you’re never allowed to do anything that might reveal slight complicity in anything perceived by anyone as contradictory. TechSkeptic, of Effort Sisyphus, found an article on Fox News criticizing environmentalists for ever using electricity, using manufactured items, or doing anything with any environmental cost. TechSkeptic explained why, if we encouraged that attitude, we’d all be living without the convenience of indoor plumbing.
Kind is my love to-day, to-morrow kind,
Still constant in a wondrous excellence;
Love may be constant, but the American Psychological Association’s Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) is not. The Socratic Gadfly described how the definition revisions that took place between the DSM-III and DSM-IV may have contributed to the increase in autism diagnoses.
Therefore my verse to constancy confined,
One thing expressing, leaves out difference.
Yes, staying constant might be romantic, but it’s not always rational. Sometimes the difference is important, and shouldn’t be left out! It’s important to challenge our beliefs and see if a change is necessary. Barbara Drescher, at ICBS Everywhere, described her attempts to convince Frank Ferris to allow controlled tests to see if his dog Dave can really do math. Will she succeed? Stay tuned to her blog; there is some hope. TechSkeptic also gave us a great post on the challenge paradigm and its many manifestations. Check it out to see who’s doing it right, and who just doesn’t get it.
‘Fair, kind and true’ is all my argument,
‘Fair, kind, and true’ varying to other words;
Fairness, kindness, and truthfulness are certainly things we skeptics can get behind. (Heck, we’re even respectful while we’re insolent.) The emphasis is on that third one, though, so let’s take the time now to discuss evidence and how to examine it to find truth. Greta Christina, at her eponymous blog, asked if theists are really being intellectually honest when they say that the question of the existence of God(s) deserves “further exploration.” She argues that their version of exploration seems to involve a lot more omphaloskepsis than evidence-gathering. Over at Skeptimedia, Bob Carroll (of The Skeptic’s Dictionary fame) explained the importance of evaluating evidence. The class he used to teach on this topic sounds really interesting. Matt, the Skeptical Teacher, found some people who seem like they could use a lesson from Bob. He bravely delves into the strange and baseless claims made by conspiracy theorists worried about the Hudson River plane landing.
And in this change is my invention spent,
Okay, this is getting tricky, but I’m going to use the word “invention” to transition into publication of scientific research. Please imagine that that was graceful. Andrew of The Evolving Mind brought us the happy news of a paper published that gives a null result which may surprise you. Finding no relationship between variables is worth noting! I wrote about how papers posted on the freely available arXiv database do not necessarily contain reliable science, so they should be approached with caution. Blake Stacey, at Science after Sunclipse, shared a similar sentiment as well as a great example of some “alternative” genetic research he found there.
Three themes in one, which wondrous scope affords.
Skeptics know well that when you combine seemingly unrelated things into one new thing (think: quantum harpsichord bubble bath, sounds so curative!) you can make miracles… or at least a lot of money off the uninformed. Bing McGhandi, at Happy Jihad’s House of Pancakes, used this philosophy to bring us chapter 1 of his Feng Shui Diet book, all about preventative feng shui. So convincing, it’ll make you wonder why no one’s tried to sell this before. Over at Ionian Enchantment, Michael Meadon showed us a story that was all too real: a Reuters piece on what feng shui masters have to say about finances in the coming year.
‘Fair, kind, and true,’ have often lived alone,
Which three till now never kept seat in one.
As Shakespeare closes, so will we, with Kylie’s review of the show “Lie to Me,” at Podblack Cat. She wrote, “They don’t seem to be short-changing the science” of lie detection, and she says it’s also pretty interesting and entertaining. Three for one; I may start watching the show myself!
That’s it for this time around. Join us for the next Skeptics’ Circle on February 26th, to be hosted by Disillusioned Words.
Reading the arXiv
I’m a big fan of the arXiv.org database. (If you’ve never heard of it: pronounce it just like “archive.” Think the Greek letter chi, written like an X.) It contains papers from lots of fields in math and science. The arXiv makes research more accessible to researchers and laymen (laypeople?) in several ways. It’s difficult to get access to journal articles without a subscription, or a university library system with a subscription. Also, it takes time for articles to get printed, for purely logistical reasons, but people sometimes post their papers before publication. Lastly (in my list at least), a lot of research wouldn’t otherwise be published, but even things like null results add to the sum of our knowledge and are valuable to record, and the arXiv is a good a place to put them.
That being said, the arXiv is not a peer-reviewed journal, and should not be treated as such. Some articles have gone through review, but not all. Some papers are early drafts, and are still undergoing review. Some articles have questionable methods, or assume blatantly wrong premises. (We frequently encounter this phenomenon when presenting and discussing papers in “journal club.” I assume we are not the only ones noticing this.) You do need to be a registered author to submit a paper to the arXiv, and you’re not supposed to lie about who you are, but no one is there checking your work.
Daphne was just pointing out the ridiculously alarmist Fox News coverage of a new arXiv article about black holes at the LHC. She makes a lot of great (and funny!) points about their inaccurate and misleading interpretation of the article, and I don’t have anything to add there. What really got me about the story is that the Fox reporters based their entire story on a paper only published on the arXiv. I’m not questioning the researchers’ methods or conclusions — hep-ph is not my subfield, and besides, their claims are certainly not what is reported on Fox News’ site — but I am pretty sure that no one at Fox is qualified to question them either, which means that they shouldn’t take everything they find on arXiv at face value. It’d be like reading Wikipedia and then reporting that the European Union has announced a new policy that ALLY WUZ HERE!!1!
I want information to be freely available just as much as the next intellectual. However, we have to be cautious. The internet may be the great leveller, but that means it sometimes obscures the difference between good ideas and bad ones.
Pledge for women in technology
I signed a pledge today, and I hope many of you will do the same. I pledge to blog about a woman in technology on March 24, as part of Ada Lovelace Day.
Ada Lovelace Day was just begun by writer Suw Charman-Anderson in order to empower women in technology in a constructive way. She writes:
If women need female role models, let’s come together to highlight the women in technology that we look up to. Let’s create new role models and make sure that whenever the question “Who are the leading women in tech?” is asked, that we all have a list of candidates on the tips of our tongues.
The official pledge says that the pledge is not binding unless 1000 people sign up, which is a nice escape clause, but (given that there’s no enforcement mechanism anyway) I don’t see any reason not to write about a woman in technology no matter what. It’s a great topic, for a great cause.
As of this posting, there are 595 people signed up — that means 405 more to go.
So what are you waiting for? Go sign up for the pledge!
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Learning opportunities
I found myself in two frighteningly similar, yet significantly different situations while on winter break. One occurred at the home of a family member I was visiting. I found several books and pamphlets on homeopathy and other associated woo, and naturally became concerned about how deeply the woo had spread. The other happened at a party I was at with friends. I heard one person (a new friend who I don’t know all that well) tell another (a friend of mine for many years) that he had been having some mental and physical problems recently but that thankfully he’d found a “good homeopath.” I was sitting next to the conversation and could have easily jumped in, but I wasn’t being talked to directly.
My proper course of action in the first situation was obvious. Knowing this family member well, I couldn’t believe that they would honestly buy into homeopathy if they knew exactly what it meant. I sat them down and flipped through the books, explaining about dilution and succussion, using ipecac as a cure for nausea, and so on. It took less than two minutes to convince them to get rid of the books, though we talked a little longer about the details because of their curiosity. It turned out that the books were bought used and on sale very cheap, and seemed worth picking up because they looked like medical encyclopedias. We decided to throw the books away rather than donate them or bring them to a used book store, so that no one else would be fooled by them. Later, they asked me to look through a pile of books about medicine and to pull out the ones based on pseudoscience. It would have been nice to have taught them how to identify woo, rather than just how to run potential woo by me for evaluation, but overall I consider it a success.
I had quite the moral dilemma in the second situation, though. I didn’t know the person that well, wasn’t clearly a part of the conversation, and wasn’t sure whether it was actually a teachable moment. I heard him explain that he got worse before he got better — a classic hallmark of issues like a cold or a headache that appear, worsen, and heal on their own over time, and good evidence that homeopathic treatment is unrelated to the healing process. I squirmed in my seat and tried to make eye contact with a known-skeptic friend on the other side of the room. The real dilemma happened when he explained how the mind and body are so interconnected, and how so many ailments are psychosomatic. He used this as evidence for the necessity of “holistic” medicine, but I thought, good point! Maybe if you have a fake medical problem, it’s not so bad to treat it with fake medicine. This may even work for some real but not-too-serious problems — the placebo effect actually does help some people get better faster than they would have without it.
I decided not to say anything. I just complained about it later to that skeptic friend across the room, who never noticed my desperate stares. I think it was the right call because it would have made a scene and made people unhappy and upset (in a way I was safe from while visiting family). People don’t tend to learn from what you tell them, if telling them makes them very upset. Still, I know there is plenty of harm possible from this kind of stuff, and I feel bad about not even trying to intervene.
So, did I do the right thing? When do you step in to teach people about science and pseudoscience, and when should you just let it go?
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