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Ethics for skeptics: why compassion and reason go hand in hand

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When I was first invited to contribute to The Skeptic, I jumped at the chance. I have nothing but respect for everyone involved in the Merseyside Skeptics Society, and I hoped this column could be a space to discuss two things I care deeply about: skepticism and ethics. When I saw the mag’s new tag line, “reason with compassion”, I knew I was in the right place.

I believe that ethics and skepticism need each other. A good life is one that contains both in healthy balance. Thinking about how we ought to act, what we owe to others and ourselves, is crucial to our flourishing. Yet Ethics is amongst the most difficult areas of human exploration. Our ethical thinking is often hampered by cultural assumptions and unexamined heuristics, leading many to wonder if ethics is even real, or just something we made up to keep people in line. While I believe there are some objective ethical truths out there that humans can understand, I’m sympathetic to the concern that our knowledge of them is always mediated through our limited understanding, which is why it’s so critical to maintain a healthy skepticism towards our currently held ethical belief, just as we do with our currently held empirical beliefs. Anyone who doesn’t abide by fundamentalist ethics will see the value in approaching ethical claims with a skeptical eye, so it’s clear why ethics needs skepticism. It may be less clear why skepticism also needed ethics. Or, more precisely, why the skeptical mindset is fundamentally an ethical proposition.

Sextus Empiricus

Historically, skepticism has always been driven by ethical concerns. Ancient skeptics like Sextus Empiricus saw skepticism as the best way to maintain mental health and stability, what they called “ataraxia.” These ancient skeptics argued that humans should cultivate the ability to suspend judgment when they lacked sufficient evidence, rather than succumb to the human inclination to form a bunch of unjustified beliefs. Sextus’s skepticism was a form of virtue ethics, the view that humans should cultivate the ability to act well through practice in order to live a life of flourishing. The resulting virtue epistemology claims that we ought to get in the habit of believing in the right ways and for the right reasons, otherwise we will slip into vicious and harmful modes of believing. Holding only justified beliefs contributes substantially to a life of flourishing. Credulity, on the other hand, leads to false beliefs, and acting on false beliefs often causes suffering. Even if we don’t act on the false beliefs, the cognitive dissonance caused by the repeated collision of truth with error can produce unnecessary suffering when we are strongly invested in false beliefs. To avoid contributing to that suffering, we ought to remain skeptical and circumspect in our belief formation. Of course, skeptics throughout history have debated what counts as sufficient evidence, but that’s the hard work of epistemology. The key insight is that skepticism is an intellectual virtue.

Like Sextus before him, William Clifford defended a particularly extreme form of virtue epistemology that I find valuable for understanding the ethical foundation of skepticism. In his 1877 essay “The Ethics of Belief”, Clifford argues that “it is wrong always, everywhere, and for anyone to believe anything on insufficient evidence”. Clifford argues that it is even wrong to believe harmless beliefs based on insufficient evidence, because it can get one in the habit of credulity, which will lead to believing harmful beliefs down the line. Clifford presents the chilling example of a shady shipowner who convinces himself, based on little more than wishful thinking, that his aging vessel will safely make another trip across the ocean. When it fails to do so, the shipowner pockets his insurance money with no shred of guilt, fully-convinced that it was just unforeseeable bad luck. When we take seriously the potential harms of credulity, it gives us a strong justification for setting the standard for belief formation deep in skeptical territory. While Clifford’s view is criticized as far too epistemically demanding, it fully exposes skepticism’s ethical foundation. Belief impacts behavior, and false beliefs can cost people dearly.

William K Clifford

Some have argued that skepticism is completely separable from any particular ethical commitments. They point out that skepticism only tells us how to act with regard to beliefs, it doesn’t mean that we have to adopt any particular ethical view, as long as our ethical beliefs are based on sufficient evidence. This thin account of skepticism, combined with some questionable metaethics, leads many skeptics to adopt either ethical nihilism or ethical subjectivism. Ethical nihilism is the view that there are no ethical truths and it doesn’t matter if we try to act ethically or not. You see this view most prevalently in the spaces where skepticism and internet troll communities overlap. Much of the rest of skepticism is dominated by subjectivism, the view that ethics is entirely determined by our beliefs about ethics. On this view, there are no objective ethical truths, but rather, we construct ethical theories that serve our needs. Subjectivism fits comfortably into the scientific materialist worldview that many skeptics understandably adopt, and provides some ground for defending claims about ethics. I plan to devote future columns to raising concerns about both of these views, while offering a robust, secular moral realism as an alternative. For now, let me say that I think there is insufficient justification for adopting either nihilism or subjectivism about ethics.

Other folks may challenge my lashing of skepticism to ethics on the grounds that skepticism is not, essentially, a means to any other end beyond the seeking of truth and the shunning of error. They claim that a skeptic’s motivation should rest entirely on the value of truth itself, separate from any further goods it can produce. I am sympathetic to the view that truth has some non-instrumental value. It does seem better to have a true belief than a false belief, even if no further good follows from having that true belief. However, it seems to me that the bulk of what makes the truth valuable is not intrinsic to the truth itself; it’s the power it gives us to reshape the world in a way that reduces suffering and promotes flourishing. Given the choice between knowing an infinite number of instrumentally-useless truths and knowing just one truth that could really help people, I think we ought to always choose the latter.

I’ve spent the bulk of this first article unpacking my understanding of skepticism, but I should also say a little about what I mean by ‘ethics’. First, I use ‘ethics’ and ‘morality’ interchangeably, as is the fashion in ethics these days. I define ethics as a broad field that includes considerations about good and bad, right and wrong, and what it means to live a life of flourishing. Those might seem like synonymous concepts, but I believe that the way they connect and come apart is surprisingly complex. Much good can come from understanding the peculiar relationships between these different ethical concepts, and the only way we get there is through skeptical interrogation of the universe, society, and our own ethical intuitions.

Image of the earth

Skepticism has the power to bring about profound change in the world. Skepticism allows us to raise doubts about prevailing social norms, leading to the reform of unjust laws. Skepticism gives us a powerful tool for pushing back on harmful pseudoscientific claims that are being commodified at a frightening rate. Skepticism allows us to turn our compassionate reasoning into substantive social progress. We are the benefactors of a rich tradition of mitigating the suffering caused by natural human credulity, and when the time comes, we ought to hand that tradition off to our successors with the ethical foundations intact.

Aaron Rabinowitz is a lecturer in philosophy at Rutgers University, and host of the Embrace The Void podcast.

NHS Lincolnshire Reiki-d over the coals for ‘Spiritual Healer’ job ad

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So, let’s be very clear about this to start out with; Reiki is nonsense. It’s nonsense of the highest order. For the uninitiated, Reiki is a form of alternative medicine based on the concept of a universal life force known as qi (or, chi). Practitioners claim to be able to manipulate this energy, usually through their palms, to promote wellbeing and healing. There is no reliable evidence that they can do so, or that qi even exists. It was even debunked by an eleven year old. Imagine therefore the outrage when this job posting from the NHS reared its ugly aura:

Spiritual Healer / Reiki Therapist – Band 4 – 15 hours

Cue immediate criticism on social media from Skeptics, Humanists, and, not surprisingly, from a number of Band 3 NHS employees. Those of us who applauded the NHS in the hell-cyon days of early Covid-19 lockdown were decrying the chronic underfunding and perceived dismantling of our nation’s pride. Surely our beloved NHS weren’t then wasting their limited resources on bogus treatments like this?

Well, thankfully not. Shortly afterwards the job description was conspicuously changed:

Charity Funded Reiki Therapist job reference - Band 4 - 15 Hours - note that the words charity funded have been added and the words spiritual healer have been removed from the first iteration of the job listing

However, the fact that the NHS isn’t directly funding this position only partially dowses the flames of discontent.

Interestingly it appears that there was also some kind of assumption from the administrators that the eye of the tweetstorm was focused on the “Spiritual Healer” part of the job description, and that somehow Reiki would get a pass. It certainly doesn’t, and there’s still plenty to be concerned about: there’s the perceived legitimacy that alternative medicine gets from being an indirect part of the NHS care package; the administrative and logistical costs of incorporating those externally funded staff members into the overall running of the hospital; the disturbing fact that these so-called ‘Healers’ are permitted to take part in multidisciplinary team meetings to discuss treatment plans for patients; and the even more disturbing fact that highly qualified medical professionals have given the hand-wavers a waiver on this. On top of all that there’s also the time and effort of whoever was unfortunate enough to be managing the social media accounts of United Lincolnshire Hospitals NHS Trust when the news broke. You’re doing a fine job whoever you are!

Keyboard and mouse with headphones and coffee cup behind. A hand is on the mouse.

All of these perfectly valid concerns might give reason to mount a robust campaign to oust them from the wards, but arguably it may not be quite as simple as that. There’s another, bigger problem out there, and while the pseudoscientists are attempting to address it in their own misguided way, we Skeptics can sometimes be too busy behind our keyboards to notice it.

The job in question is at the Waddington Unit in Lincoln County Hospital, a haematology and oncology unit caring for patients receiving chemotherapy/radiotherapy and end of life care. Cancer treatment isn’t fun. We don’t recommend you put it on your bucket list… unless have cancer, in which case we recommend you put it at the very top of your bucket list. The treatment can be incredibly punishing on the body, but it also takes a considerable toll on the mind. Aside from what is most probably some excellent bedside manner from the (genuine) healthcare professionals who work there, it’s likely that they have limited extra time to spend with those patients. If they had more time and resources, perhaps they might not be so open to inviting practitioners of complementary medicine onto their premises.

Pain is real, but it’s subjective. So is nausea. Ever been ill and been lucky enough to have someone who cared about you enough to give you some care and attention? Did it make you feel better? Even for a short while? Facts don’t care about your feelings, but your feelings matter. The feelings of cancer patients certainly matter. It seems therefore that one could fairly argue that those Reiki practitioners are meeting a requirement that might otherwise remain unfulfilled. It’s just a pity, and even a legitimate concern, about the unpleasant baggage they bring with them.

A woman lays on a therapy bed with a reiki practitioner behind her holding his palms either side of her head.

So, how did such a discredited treatment make its way into some of our hospitals in the first place? Enter Angie Buxton-King, founding member and driving force behind the Sam Buxton Sunflower Healing Trust. She’s the author of the disturbingly titled book ‘The NHS Healer’, and its disappointingly named follow-up ‘The NHS Healer – Onwards and Upwards’. These books chronicle the ‘integration of Healing within the NHS’. The capital H in Healing seems to be used more like a brand name than an actual solid claim of curing anything. The implications are there nonetheless; even their website address of cancertherapies.org.uk has a disturbingly over-promising sound to it. The website appears somewhat primitive looking, but very carefully worded as they under-promise just enough to stop them falling foul of the Cancer Act.

Angie appears to have been working for the NHS as a ‘healer’ since 1999. Disappointingly, it seems that University College London Hospitals have had somewhat similar complementary therapies funded by various different charities for quite some time. The inception of Angie’s charity came a few years later when Angie’s son Sam tragically passed away from Leukemia at the age of ten. So we’ve got a grieving mother with some unusual beliefs who saw first-hand the toll that cancer treatment, and the cancer itself, can take on someone. In such a situation it’s natural to try anything and everything to help make things better, even if actual healing-with-a-lower-case-h isn’t possible. It’s all too common for grieving relatives to turn the death of a loved one into some form of campaign. It’s a coping mechanism of sorts.

The service provided by this somewhat misguided charity may appear to be giving comfort. There’s a fair amount of patient testimony to that effect, and glowing compliments from other staff members in the unit. Anecdotes aren’t always indicative mind you, and it’s hard to find any meaningful comparative data when it comes to patient satisfaction or survival/recovery rates.

Angie is clearly an intelligent and driven individual, and her insider knowledge of how the NHS works clearly allows her to move carefully within the system without overselling the potential benefits of the services her charity provides. She’s also aware of some of the baggage that’s carried by complementary medicine. From an online interview:

“Spiritual Healing and Reiki are one and the same thing. If you use the term Spiritual Healing then it will close the doors of the hospice.”

It’s far from ideal, and given that Reiki often comes with implied or explicit claims to be able to actively heal illness, there is an argument as to whether the pros outweigh the cons in this case. But we can’t deny there appears to be a patient need which should be addressed. By understanding what that need is we can look to find less problematic, pseudoscientific solutions. Even some of the little things could make a difference. For instance;

a man undergoing shoulder massage
  • Massage.
  • Talking through your situation with someone who is an active, empathetic listener.
  • A relaxing bath.
  • Gentle hugs from a loved one.

So, until such time as someone starts up a charity providing one of the above options that can ramp up to the levels of funding multiple dedicated staff members across a number of hospitals, and push it with the same drive as a bereaved parent, we should perhaps leave the pitchforks at home for now.

The Atacama mummy: putting together the pieces of an “Archaeology bombshell”

An absolute tyre fire. Several storeys high and visible from space.

That’s my search history every time I’m asked to do something ‘fun’ by a member of the skeptics community. A recent appearance on a podcast, for example, required ‘just a bit of research’. Now Youtube is trying desperately to show me nought but QAnon videos!

You’d think I’d learn my lesson, but here we are again. When I was asked to write this article the brief looked promising; a topic of my choice investigated using the critical eye of an archaeologist. All I had to do was pick a topic that couldn’t possibly be sad/infuriating/convoluted.

A Player Playing PUBG Mobile

Inspiration came quickly, but from an unexpected angle. During the lockdown I’ve found a fun way to keep in touch with my friends is to play the online video game PUBG (although most of the voice chat included some variation on, “it’s actually been really nice to have to time to reconnect with… FOOTSTEPS, THERE ON YOUR LEFT, GET HIM, GET HIM!”).

To keep things fresh, the developers add themed events and as fate would have it the latest update landed just when I needed it. I logged on, there it was: a great big Egyptian pyramid shaped spaceship. That’s right, we’re doing ancient aliens!

The idea that aliens, and not humans, are responsible for many ancient monuments is a surprisingly tenacious one. It’s also an idea which appeals to tabloids as an easy way to fill column inches and Google brought up several promising articles. I decided to look at the most recent, published 30th July 2020 in the Express, with the headline “Archaeology bombshell: Strange discovery of mysterious ‘alien’ figure“.

Leaving aside any discussion of what an ‘archaeology bombshell’ might entail (does it blow everything up, but leave the pieces meticulously recorded?) this article covered the 2007 discovery of a 15cm long mummy in the Atacama Desert. Despite the headline, the article gave little time to the idea that the specimen was an actual ‘alien’.

Piedras Rojas, Atacama Desert, Chile
Piedras Rojas, Atacama Desert, Chile

Instead, it covered an ancient DNA analysis (Bhattacharya et al 2018) which suggested that the reason for the appearance of the mummy, identified as a premature human infant, was that the individual had multiple physical malformations including an ‘unusually’ elongated skull, skeletal malformation and ‘missing’ 11th and 12th ribs, all identified by mutations in the genes.

That’s the end of that right? An alien myth debunked using DNA evidence. Well it would have been if I hadn’t decided to read the original study the article was based on, just to see if anything had been lost in translation from boffin to hack.

Off to google again. The original piece was there, but that wasn’t what caught my eye. I’m drawn to two other links. The first is a rebuttal and the second is an editorial response to the rebuttal. Academic fight! Get everyone around and chant ‘peer review’ until someone cries!

The rebuttal (Sian E Halcrow et al, 2018) made for interesting reading. Written by an interdisciplinary team of archaeologists, anthropologists, gynaecologists and anatomists, their issues with the original paper could be summed up as: “What the hell are you talking about?”. It reviewed each of the supposed mutations and pointed out how they are completely normal features of a foetus at 15 weeks gestational age. The elongated skull? Moulding of the cranium as it passed the cervix. The missing ribs? What little data we have on the formation of the 11th and 12th ribs suggest they don’t appear until later in gestation. Other skeletal malformations? Nope, everything looks normal thank you.

A very smart geneticist (my brother) said, “People have a fuckton of variation…mutations can be very unpredictable”. In other words, it’s more about probabilities than certainties, but the temptation remains to treat it like it’s the other way around. Ancient DNA is becoming more popular in the field of archaeology. The appeal is understandable, to look beyond bones to physical attributes which might not be preserved. These areas were generally a closed book and ancient DNA analysis appeared to be a way to start turning the pages, but it’s important not to get carried away.

Theatrical poster for "Sirius". The poster art copyright is believed to belong to Neverending Light Productions.

By Source, Fair use, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=39365418

Another issue raised was the ethics of how these remains were treated. Firstly, it is important to note that the mummy is currently held in a private collection in Spain. Secondly, the instigating factor for the study is rather dubious: it was commissioned as part of a documentary called Sirus, which claimed the mummy was proof of ancient aliens. The authors approached the film-makers in order to offer their services to help define the true nature of the specimen. In their editorial response (Nolan and Butte, Genome, May, 2018), the authors claimed that their findings “provided a definitive scientific basis to put a stop to unscientific accounts”. A claim that would hold more water if the documentary team hadn’t ignored the findings and gone with the alien line anyway.

The information they were able to recover gave a clue to another troubling aspect of this story; the possible period from which the skeleton originated. In Sirus, the claim was made that it was thousands of years old; however, given the preservation of the material the geneticists posited it was 500 years old or younger. Personally, I think it might be a bit more on the recent end of that estimate.

The original paper included a theory the mutations were the result of nitrate poisoning. While this idea wasn’t expanded on, it isn’t entirely pulled out of their collective bums, either. The mummy was possibly found by a ‘treasure hunter’ (eye rolls for infinity) and, though the specific providence is unknown, it is believed to have come from around La Noira, once a thriving town in the heart of the Chilean nitrate mines. Founded in 1826, it was occupied until WWI when the Chilean nitrate industry collapsed.

The keen-eyed among you may have already noticed that 1826 isn’t 500 years ago, and as such if the mummy is from La Noira it is likely to be either C19th or even C20th in origin.

So, lets recap: instead of an ancient alien, what we have instead is the mummy of a premature baby – which may have died recently enough to have still living relatives – being stolen by a treasure hunter, sold out of country to a private collection in Spain, after which it is held up as proof of aliens in a documentary, and cut up to find out if it’s human. And then a paper was written about how horribly mutated it was, even though it wasn’t… you see what I mean about researching things for the skeptics?!

At the core of this story is a very human tragedy: a family losing a child. It raises many questions around exploitation, the treatment of human remains, and the colonial mindset that sees a mummified foetus privately owned by someone on the other side of the world.

Those are questions for another day and for another article. Because, as much as it leaves my internet browser looking like a Nazi who picked the wrong grail to drink from, if I’m being honest, I always enjoy when the skeptics come calling. At the very least I know it won’t be dull. 

Context, lies and disinfectant

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I don’t mean to shock you and I hope you’re sitting down for this but there’s a lot of false information on the internet. Not only that but users have been ripping things right out of context and sharing them with reckless abandon, for thousands of innocent victims to react to, only to be exposed as naive dupes once the true context is revealed. Why, only this past week it transpired that… nope, I can’t keep this up.

There is no single, correct context we can place something in to reveal everything worth knowing about it. We don’t have to throw our hands up in despair, however, or retreat from all commentary in case we make a mistake. The fact that pictures and texts can be taken out of their various contexts and spark countless responses in a matter of hours is a reality of our age and is something we can learn to live with.

Different types of contextualising information can be illuminating in their own worthwhile way and sometimes a thing’s reception history – the different ways it has been used and interpreted – can tell us more than an analysis of the thing itself. Let’s have a look at one recent example, not to establish hard facts (not least because there may be more waves of those to come) but to see how different layers of context can add to our understanding.

The thing

Dettol Tube Ad with branding missing

A poster advertising disinfectant. The text lists features of working in an office such as “plastic plants” and “accidentally replying-all”. One photograph of the advert which was shared widely on Twitter contained only the text and didn’t mention the brand, so many initial responses were shaped by the assumption that it was part of the UK government’s campaign to encourage people who have been working from home to return to their usual offices. I’d characterise the prevailing mood as one of mocking anger.

Often when something which has been widely shared and discussed is exposed as a fabrication, there’s a wave of retractions, expressions of regret or embarrassment, and a fair few declarations that only a fool believes everything (anything?) they see on the internet. In this case, perhaps because this was a misunderstanding rather than a fake, much of the mockery transferred to the company who commissioned the advert, while the anger at the government messaging which it resembled continued. Many people (justifiably, in my opinion) reserved the right to use this opportunity to vent their feelings on a prominent and contentious issue, even though the initial stimulus what not quite what they thought it was.

Context One – location, audience, purpose

This is what could be considered the “correct” context: the “actually, I think you’ll find…” of the matter. It’s a poster at a public transport hub so likely to be aimed at people who are already commuting to work rather than those yet to be coaxed out.

A photo of the London Underground signage against a blue sky backdrop

The point behind the advert, it can be assumed, is to raise brand awareness. There are several aspects to this and the poster may not be intended to fulfill all of these functions, but generally advertisers want to make people aware of their product, form associations with certain qualities and values, increase the amount that people use, or make people think of their brand in particular when the need for it arises.

When trying to keep something at the front of people’s minds, it can be useful to tap into current trends (even controversies) and try to chime in with people’s emotions. Which brings us to…

Context Two – advertising in a crisis

There seems to have been a trend over the past couple of years for advertisements to list associations with a particular concept. These might be reminders of the small joys of going to a familiar place or perhaps they place a brand at the heart of a common experience. Often these lists will be delivered in a warm, friendly regional accent and they have an irritating tendency towards bad rhymes.

Amid the worries, separations and bewildering abnormality of 2020, appealing to this feeling of togetherness and shared values and experiences has been a popular strategy for brands which don’t want to appear tone-deaf or encourage us to do things which we aren’t currently allowed to do. In this context, our poster appears less like a laughably unrelatable love-letter to the office, and more like a neutral, shared-experience appeal to “think office; think disinfectant”.

Even though it’s playing on customers’ mixed feelings about current events, there’s no reason to suppose that it was directly informed by the government’s campaign for a return to offices.

Context Three – The government’s campaign for a return to offices

Didn’t I just say that this was irrelevant? Well, even if something isn’t created in direct response to a political context, we can still explore how political and cultural messages can interact, influence each other, perhaps deliberately oppose one another, and how all of this can play out in a medium such as advertising.

On a simple level, this advert would likely not exist in this form if the official advice to work from home where possible was still in place. Again, companies don’t want to risk being wildly out of keeping with what’s allowed and accepted at a particular time. More subtly (and this is where I may sound like a conspiracy theorist) this need to take cues from current events and prevailing sentiment can cause advertising to be surprisingly in-step with what might be termed more establishment positions.

Union flag bunting

Think back to Queen Elizabeth’s last jubilee, for example. You’d have been hard pressed to find a shop window display, in England at least, which didn’t have a Union flag or bunting or a cushion with a bulldog on it. Without the need for government directives or any centralised plan, companies responded to what they assumed the majority of customers were feeling, resulting in a consistently patriotic feel on every high street. Norms – even new-normal norms – are powerful things and we can find behaviour-shaping messages echoing from all manner of unexpected directions.

These examples are just some of the many contexts we could explore relating to this one text. The first type of context may seem the most factual, in that it provides the clearest line of causation from intent to creation, but that doesn’t necessarily make it more important or worthy of analysis. There’s always more background to explore and so trying to fully place something in context before reacting to it would be futile. Equally, writing off a text and people’s reactions to it because it was “taken out of context” would waste an opportunity to think through why something has the shape that it does and why it invokes those responses.

Every one of us will inevitably miss something important in our initial reactions and there’s no need to feel ashamed or defensive about this. We really do lose something when the most basic facts – the “well actually” of when, where and why a thing was created – are treated as the end rather than the beginning of the discussion.

The development of the skeptic movement – part 1

Whenever we try to write about the beginning of a movement, we must pinpoint a moment in history from which we want to start. Of course, if we were digging more, we could find another, older, root, or another influencing factor, previously unmentioned. There have been several articles written about the history of the skeptical movement, and they do overlap on some milestones while differing on others.

In this article, I will add to the tapestry of skeptic history. Though I will be sticking to the history of the movement within Europe and the Anglosphere, it is in no way to diminish the contributions of skepticism in the world outside of this designated realm, but because that area is best left to those who can inform us about it more completely and in greater context – skeptics, who are active there today. 

This article will divide skeptic history into eras, focusing more on its history than its current state. But before we get into that, let’s do a quick overview of what skepticism and the skeptical movement is.

Skepticism

Simply put, skepticism is systematic doubt. There are three main types of skepticism.

The first and oldest is philosophical, represented by the Sicilian philosopher Gorgias. His ideas are represented by a paraphrased quote of his:

Nothing exists; even if something exists, nothing can be known about it; and even if something can be known about it, knowledge about it can’t be communicated to others.”

In my humble opinion, this type of skepticism might be too skeptical even for diehard skeptics.

The second is religious skepticism, which started as a way to label questioning religious dogmas by religious scholars within the Roman Catholic Church. Later, the meaning was broadened to include any questioning of religious beliefs and claims.

The third one, the one which is “ours,” is scientific skepticism. It is questioning beliefs and claims using scientific findings. 

When comparing questioning religious claims from the point of the modern understanding of religious skepticism and from the point of scientific skepticism, we can imagine the difference like this: 

Religious skepticism: We have one God, who is three, who are actually one, who is actually three, and sometimes the two of the three are on Earth, while all three being in Heaven. That sounds strange and inconsistent. Let’s think about it more.

Scientific skepticism: Looking at a religious claim which intersects with the material world and examining its feasibility, such as miracle healing, the magical liquifying and solidifying of the blood of St. Januarius, self-lighting Holy Fire candle, by way of example, not limitation.

The Skeptical Movement

The skeptical movement is a social movement based around the idea of scientific skepticism. It promotes the avoidance of making conclusions without a thorough investigation, applying the scientific method and scientific findings to empirical claims across the board, and, most difficult of all, keeping a neutral stance towards unempirical claims and beliefs unless they are in direct conflict of the development of the scientific knowledge base.

So how did it all get started?

The First Era

The first era of skepticism is depicted on a timeline beginning in 1881 with the founding of the VtdK, followed by the publication of the first Sherlock Holmes story in 1887. In 1910 John Dewey defined critical thinking in his work "How to Think" and in 1923 Scientific American and Houdini announced the $5000 prize.

The Starting Point

I do believe I am doing the modern skeptic movement justice when I place it’s founding in the year 1881. The year in which Dutch general practitioners founded the Association against Quackery (Vereniging tegen de Kwakzalverij – VtdK) in the Netherlands. I will use the VtdK as our starting point. 

The founding of the VtdK was in consequence of a pamphlet created by the Dutch Society for the Advancement of Medicine, in which the points of how to identify a quack were detailed, subsequently giving the world the word quack as a way to label a medical practitioner who did not concern themselves much with science or evidence. The VtdK started publishing their findings in their own magazine, the Magazine Against Quackery (Tijdschrift tegen Kwakzalverij), which is currently the longest-running skeptic magazine in the world. Also, thanks to the work of VtdK, the Netherlands was the third country in the world to adopt comprehensive drug regulation legislation. 

One could argue that the VtdK, concerning the topics it covered at its founding, can not be considered a full-fledged skeptic group. I would argue that the attention given to various topics within the skeptic movement has fluctuated organically over the years, and the VtdK, especially considering its accomplishments, has been given its rightful place.

Now that we have our starting point established, let’s look at how analytical thinking was popularized among the public.

The Art of Nitpicking

In 1887, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle published his first Sherlock Holmes story, A Study in Scarlet. Doyle’s extremely rational character was in many ways an opposite to Doyle himself, who fell for the doctored photo of Cottingley Fairies and was an ardent spiritualist.

Though we can find inspiration for this character both in the real world, such as  Doyle’s professor from the University of Edinburgh Joseph Bell, and in the world of fiction, such as E. A. Poe’s Auguste Dupin, it is the character of Sherlock which became a household name, a monicker, and the key component of the phrase “No sh*t, Sherlock.” 

All joking aside, or not, the popularity of Sherlock stories brought the hobby of systematic nosiness and art of nitpicking into the mainstream and gave the people who had such a hobby and practiced such art both the hope that they are not alone and the impulse to find others like them. The growth of the skeptical movement is not only related to things happening within, but to the influences forming it from the outside.

By the way, though Doyle made the phrase “art of deduction” popular, Sherlock was actually doing inductive reasoning. I would be remiss not to point out the difference.

  • Deduction: Theory → Creating a hypothesis based on known theory → Observing → Confirming.
  • Induction: Observing → Noticing a pattern → Creating a hypothesis → Confirming → Theory.

Defining Critical Thinking

The next important milestone is the definition of critical thinking published by philosopher and pedagogue John Dewey in his book How We Think published in 1910. If you don’t feel like reading the whole thing, a good summary of the book was published on Brain Pickings.

Dewey defines critical thinking as a reflection of thought, emphasizing the following:

  • Pausing decision making – We think better when we think slower, meaning we are more rational decision-makers when we pause to think. This is pretty much the summary of Kahneman’s book Thinking, Fast and Slow.
  • Healthy skepticism – ‘Nuff said
  • Open Mind – Meaning not rejecting things outright

Dewey’s definition of critical thinking pretty much sums up scientific skepticism and Dewey’s influence brought these ideas to the forefront. 

Dewey’s definition of critical thinking pretty much sums up scientific skepticism and Dewey’s influence brought these ideas to the forefront. 

Houdini vs. Mina

Houdini’s contributions to the skeptical movement have been highlighted numerous times, so I will only summarize. After the death of his mother in 1913, Houdini -who used to pretend to be a medium communicating with the dead -started to look for “real” mediums to reconnect him with his mother. Though he searched thoroughly, visited all the big names of his time, he realized his suspicions that all mediums are just for show, were correct. He started to challenge mediums and spiritualists and in 1923 was invited to become part of Scientific American Investigation Panel, which offered $5000 (about $76000 today) to whomever could, without question, connect with the other side. 

One of the mediums, and the most worthy adversary, was a friend of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, just as Houdini was, Mina Crandon. Their incredible battle of the wills and abilities is written about in detail (and in English) by the founder of the Italian Skeptics, CICAP, Massimo Polidoro.

Houdini’s work was, thanks to his popularity, a great way to promote critical thinking and the skeptical approach.

An End of an Era

We can consider Houdini’s death as the end of the first era of the skeptical movement. This era enriched the skeptical movement with two crucial topics, fighting against quackery and testing woo. It also gave the outline of skeptical thinking, as well the ideas to organize and promote skeptical thinking in ways which are interesting to the public.

In my next article, we will examine how the skeptical baton was picked up after Houdini, and how the movement developed into the international community we see today.

Hydroxychloroquine: when bad science goes mainstream

From the small number of participants, the very loose controls, the statistical sleight of hand, and the cherry-picking of data points, we could easily have been looking at one more run-of-the-mill “homeopathy works!” paper; totally forgettable and easily forgotten, a good sparring tool for a fledging skeptic. Yet this was no homeopathy paper: it boasted the signature of one of the most-cited microbiologists in the world, involved legitimate drugs, and promised to cure people infected by a pandemic virus.

The study in question – “Hydroxychloroquine and azithromycin as a treatment of COVID-19: results of an open-label non-randomized clinical trial”, by the team of French superstar-microbiologist Didier Raoult – claimed to identify a miracle treatment for COVID-19 in the form of antimalarial and antibiotic drugs currently used by malaria and lupus patients. After the paper was presented to the media (taking place, of course, prior to publication in a journal of negligible impact), it received a mixed reception around the world. Britain and Italy simply ignored it; in the US, Donald Trump liked it, and publicly touted it in his daily press briefings. But in Brazil, fell head over heels in love with it.

President of Brazil, Jair Bolsonaro
(Brasília – DF, 24/03/2020) Pronunciamento do Presidente da República, Jair Bolsonaro em Rede Nacional de Rádio e Televisão..Foto: Isac Nóbrega/PR

Bolsonaro had been pushing against social distancing and quarantine measures ever since they were adopted by city mayors and state governors, and recommended by his own Minister of Health (following guidelines from the World Health Organization). Perhaps he saw the hydroxychloroquine craze as a way to push even harder. What is clear is that after he sang the praises of the drug, within hours it had vanished from pharmacies and drugstores, putting the people who really needed it in grave danger.

The “cancer cure” scandal in Brazil

The Brazilian skeptic movement was awakened out of a kind of coma in 2015, when a retired Chemistry professor became a national celebrity by touting a “miracle cancer cure”. Back then, skeptics and “quackwatchers” went into the fray with a large portion of the mainstream Medical and Scientific communities by their side; the defenders of the “miracle cure” were mostly media personalities and politicians (including Bolsonaro, then a Member of Parliament).

Today, however, we suddenly find ourselves quite alone. Blinded by Raoult’s reputation, intimidated by the president’s endorsement or just too eager to embrace any shred of hope that presents itself, scientists who were vocal opponents of that miracle “cancer cure” now seemingly overlook the many problems and signs of misconduct in the study, and declare hydroxychloroquine “promising”.

The Ministry of Health, who during the “cancer cure” crisis never even contemplated giving the “miracle” pills to patients of SUS (the Brazilian counterpart to the NHS), produced a technical note instructing doctors in the use of hydroxychloroquine for COVID-19.

The Albert Einstein Israelite Hospital, one of the finest medical centers in Latin America, launched a very weak “study” – without placebo group and very weak controls – of hydroxychloroquine for COVID-19. This so-called “clinical trial” is so flawed in its design that it can’t do anything but show “positive” or “indefinite” results.  A  Chinese study, small, but with decent controls, that found no benefit of hydroxychloroquine against the new coronavius, was available when the Albert Einstein Hospital published its design, but was blatantly ignored. What gives?

Science and skepticism in Brazil

Sadly, it looks like here in Brazil, science and skepticism don’t walk hand in hand, as they ought to. Critical thinking must be learned, preferably from a young age, if we wish to prevent this kind of misconceptions in the future. The fact that many undergraduate and graduate science students believe in pseudoscientific claims such as astrology, homeopathy and UFOs shows us that we are failing. While on one hand, this behavior may seem harmless, on the other hand, its potential to do harm becomes clear in an emergency situation like a pandemic, when decisions must be made quickly. To ensure that these decisions will be science based, we need people to be science based too.

And if we can’t get scientists and health professionals to think critically under stress, we are in deep trouble. What are the main differences between the cancer miracle cure hype in Brazil, and the chloroquine hype now?

First, the situation. A pandemic causes people to panic in fairly large numbers, and for several reasons: they are afraid of dying, and of losing their significant others, and they want to go back to their normal lives. The need to believe in a miracle cure that can end this situation faster is greatly enhanced.

Secondly, the appeal to authority, which to most skeptics is a fallacy we train ourselves to try to spot, goes unnoticed by most scientists.

This illustration, created at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), reveals ultrastructural morphology exhibited by coronaviruses. Note the spikes that adorn the outer surface of the virus, which impart the look of a corona surrounding the virion, when viewed electron microscopically.

The proponent of the miracle cancer cure, Gilberto Chierice,  was a Chemistry professor from a small campus of a Brazilian university. The proponent of chloroquine, Didier Raoult, is one of the world’s most published scientists, director of a hospital and recipient of several awards, which may have led people to overlook the weakenesses of the hydroxychloroquine study.  People put their belief in Raoult, rather than critically examining his studies – and the fact that he chose to broadcast the “cure” himself, on YouTube, before the paper was even published in preprint, certainly didn’t help.

Spotting red flags

It was easy for skeptics to see the red flags: announcing  to national news before peer review, using bad scientific methodology, cherry picking of data, the lack of proper controls, withholding data, the list goes on. These are not new to anyone used to analyzing medical quackery, but without training in spotting methodological flaws, even medical and science professionals were fooled. Doctors said that they had a “feeling” it would work. Scientists told us that “during a war we should bend the rules”. Unfortunately, basing medical interventions on gut feelings brought us bloodletting, mercury poisoning for yellow fever and a vast array of alternative medicine. And while we may need to bend the rules during a pandemic, if we bend them this far, we’ll break!

A study conducted by professors Raymond Hall and Kathleen Dyer in State California University demonstrated the need to teach critical thinking to undergraduate science majors, in a more direct way than just teaching scientific method. They showed that it is necessary to teach students how to differentiate science from nonsense. After completing their course, the majority of students were able to overcome unwarranted beliefs. Perhaps, given such training, those students would have sees through the chloroquine hype which bewitched so many. Perhaps it’s time for skeptics to press for the inclusion of critical thinking in basic education. It could be the only way to prevent the next generation from being fooled during a time when we need them to trust science the most.

Coronavirus, conspiracy, challenges and compassion

As the new editor of The Skeptic, it is my duty and my privilege to be able to steer one of the longest-standing institutions in UK skepticism into its next chapter.

The Skeptic, which started life in 1987 as a print newsletter entitled The British and Irish Skeptic, has gone through many changes during its 33-year existence. I hope that its new formation – as an online skeptical news platform publishing expert analysis and commentary on a regular basis – will be particularly suited to countering the kind of pseudoscience, conspiracy theory and superstition that surrounds us today.

I owe a great deal of thanks to outgoing editor Deborah Hyde, not only for her expert tenure at the helm of The Skeptic for the last decade, but also for her patience during this transition. I have no doubt that Deborah, along with previous editors Professor Chris French and Wendy Grossman, will continue to be invaluable sources of guidance and advice, as well as regular contributors (indeed, you can read Wendy’s thoughts on ‘the new era’ in her latest article).

Any change of leadership naturally offers the opportunity for reflection, and it’s hard to argue that the need for reason and critical thinking has ever been more urgent than it is right now. The coronavirus pandemic has inevitably been a focusing point for all manner of untrue claims, from the proliferation of false and scaremongering messages about bodies piling up at ice skating rinks and the virus shifting to killing babies; to 5G masts around the country being blamed and vandalised; to nonsensical conspiracy theories about the virus being an act of biological warfare from China – possibly (and quite bafflingly) with the aim of enriching the US Center for Disease Control.

A crisis of this scale necessarily produces an information vacuum, and there has been no shortage of groups looking to fill that hole with misinformation. We’ve seen misleading advice around how to fight off the disease with supplements (the fallacy of which is deftly explained in Pixie Turner’s first article for The Skeptic). We’ve seen countless homeopaths offering advice on which homeopathic remedies to take to combat the virus – hardly a surprise, from an industry whose own Professional Standards Director was revealed to be an anti-vaxxer. We’ve even seen under-informed contrarians seeking to undermine public health policy under the misnomer of “lockdown sceptics” (just when we’d managed to reclaim the word ’skeptic’ from climate change deniers, too).

Although COVID-19 has been a major focus of skeptical attention, it is far from the only pseudoscience game in town. Ghosts and UFOs are still being seen, and we will be here to highlight alternative explanations for them. Psychics and mediums may have had to put their tours on hold while theatres across the country have closed their doors, but plenty of their numbers claim to be busier than ever giving readings online – though, of course, they would say that, wouldn’t they?

Medical misinformation, too, remains rife, with cancer quackery in particular causing huge amounts of pain and suffering for vulnerable patients and their families. The Skeptic will be here to help unpick the misinformation, and to offer an informed perspective on the false hope sold by alternative medicine evangelists.

We will also be tackling what I believe may be the defining pseudoscience of our age: conspiracy theory. Where once the domain of fringe pockets of people doubting the official story regarding JFK’s assassination, the September 11th attacks, or the moonlanding, conspiracy theory has gone thoroughly mainstream. It has become commonplace for social media feeds to be filled with family and friends sharing allegations that Big Pharma has the cure for cancer but is keeping it from the people, that governments are controlled by a shadowy cabal of uber-elites who orchestrate major world crises, and that the world we are presented with is a deliberate attempt to keep us distracted from The Truth.

In fact, just last week, cities across the UK saw marches of ‘QAnon’ followers and ‘PizzaGate’ truthers – people who believe that a deep-state whistleblower with top-level security clearance in the US government is risking life and limb to post oblique and cryptic hints aimed at exposing a vast conspiracy of celebrity paedophiles and child traffickers, whose headquarters was in the basement of a Washington pizza restaurant that does not have a basement. How we got to a place where so ludicrous an idea is taken seriously enough by people to host marches through cities an ocean away from Washington is something I’m sure we will be exploring in the pages of The Skeptic.

QAnon conspiracy theorists marching in Liverpool, August 2020.

One man wearing a "Save our children UK" T Shirt holds up a placard reading "Research Pizzagate". 

Another man has a "Keep Calm and QAnon t shirt"

Source: https://i.imgur.com/brFk9UX.jpg
QAnon conspiracy theorists marching in Liverpool, August 2020

Identifying and debunking these pernicious pseudoscientific ideas may be one thing, but effectively challenging them is another matter entirely. It is comforting to think that simply showing that an idea is not supported by evidence is enough to take the momentum out of a pseudoscientific movement, but experience shows us that information alone is not always enough to dissuade people from their beliefs. This, I think, is the big challenge for skepticism today: how can we most effectively turn the tide and encourage people back to reason?

The answer, in part, lies in the honesty and humility of our intentions. If we as skeptics are only interested in being right in order to preserve a sense of superiority over those we disagree with, I fear we will be wholly ineffective in affecting any real change. We will also be fooling ourselves. If, instead, we recognise that we are all prone to irrationality and bias, and in having an awareness of that we can try to challenge our own beliefs and biases as much as possible, we may have a hope of reaching people.

This is why I am such a firm believer in the notion of compassionate skepticism: that our aim isn’t simply to be ‘right’, but to understand ourselves and the world around us, and to help others do the same. To do that effectively we have to understand who we are trying to reach, and how to communicate with them. “Facts don’t care about your feelings!”, people are so fond of saying, but in practice, people’s feelings often don’t care about facts – and people’s actions and beliefs (including our own) are informed first of all by their feelings. The detail you are far more likely to go out of your way to fact-check is the one that feels false, not the one that feels true.

Moreover, in a very real way, feelings ARE facts – facts about who you are speaking to, how receptive they are likely to be to information they disagree with, and therefore how best to communicate with them if you want to be effective.

With that in mind, I believe it is important to remember that facts and logic aren’t weapons to be used to ‘destroy’ people we disagree with; they’re tools to evaluate and understand. It is easy to convince ourselves that we as skeptics are hyper-rational, unbiased actors whose conclusions are exclusively based on reason and logic, but that would be a self-delusion. The most that we can do – and what we will always strive to do at The Skeptic – is to try our best to apply skepticism, to think critically, to try to minimise the impact of our own biases in doing so, and to always be aware that the people we disagree with are just as human as we are.