Monthly Archives: May 2014

Pleased to meet you. How d’you do.

We get a lot of people asking us who we are. Most of them are just interested, though some do it as a means to deride us for what they call “hiding behind a veil of anonymity”. The remaining others suggest that, especially where our blog is concerned, people (their casual debate opponents, for instance) would be less inclined to dismiss our articles and more inclined to take on board what we said if we made our education, backgrounds and identities public.

We have a fair number of readers now, and (we’re honoured to say), we do seem to have gained quite a bit of trust from many of you. So, since I (the female admin) am pretty much happy to “come out”, it seems like the right thing to do. However, though I’m sure the vast majority of you acknowledge this, I do feel the need to stress that our backgrounds are essentially irrelevant to the arguments we make and the posts we write – we never ask that you to take our word for it. Who we are has no bearing on our readers’ abilities to follow the sources we link to within our articles, and to engage in further reading. I will provide a little information about the other admin, but being the enigmatic chap that he is, he wants to remain anonymous, so you won’t get much on him, I’m afraid.

 

In The Beginning…

IFHP is made of two parts – an XY component from Ohio, USA and an XX counterpart (who is currently possessed of the voice in your head) from London, UK – and is the upshot of a Facebook glitch, caused by a happy coincidence. Before IFHP, we two had never crossed paths. But on February 1st, 2013, within just minutes of one another, we each happened to arrive at the decision to start a page called “I fucking hate pseudoscience”.  (I know, cosmic or what??) Mr. US began sending invitations to his FB contacts, but found that they led all his invitees to my UK page instead. Within half an hour of IFHP UK’s birth, it had received a message from IFHP USA suggesting a merger to solve the problem.

Despite apprehensions from both sides, the merger went ahead after just a short initiatory grilling on the subject of “whether you hate pseudoscience as much as I do”. Amazingly enough, we’ve found we basically agree on everything, except things like how to spell “sceptical”, and, despite the fact that we’ve never met face-to-face, I have come to regard him as one of my best (and cleverest) friends. Don’t get the impression that because there’s more about me than him, he does less work. In fact, I’m much more of a dirty slacker than he is. So him first.

 

About the US admin:

Mr US is the only son of a family of horse ranchers. His mother is an artist, floral designer and interior decorator. His father is a master diesel mechanic (light truck and heavy truck) specialising in transmission repair and hydraulics. Although his parents were only moderately religious, he grew up surrounded by near-fundamentalist Christians and Amish people, which sparked an interest in counter-culture and, by his late teens, critical thinking.

He has a high-school equivalency diploma and a 2-year technical degree in both computer repair and software development.  During his technical training, he was offered the chance to take a critical thinking course. Given his long-time interest in science and scepticism (sorry, skepticism!), he gladly took it up. However, to his disappointment, the course had a very narrow scope, dealing mostly with career planning and time-management.   Although he did learn a few logical fallacies, the class taught nothing about skepticism. Impressed by his gusto when he complained about this, his professor invited him to help develop some lessons specifically on skepticism of the media and, for several years, he remained as one of the course advisors. Although the higher faculty insisted he not touch on religion or personal beliefs, he introduced to the course (which is still being taught) such topics as Occam’s razor, cognitive biases, errors in pattern recognition, the pitfalls of human perception, logic and memory, and media manipulation. His fluency in the language of skepticism and critical thinking is astounding, and, despite my science education, I’d wager that I’ve probably learnt more from him over the last year-and-a-bit than he has from me.

 

About the UK admin:

My name is Emily-Rose. (A lot of my friends don’t even know my surname.) I am the daughter of a family of musicians. My mum is a professional cellist, a harpist and the author of ‘The Silent-Footed Butler’. My dad is an orchestral and solo French horn and hand-held horn player. One of my aunts is a violinist, the other is a bassoonist. My uncle is a trombonist. My brother is a jazz drummer. Granny was a pianist and cellist, Granddad was a brass instrument repair-man. (You get the picture.) Fortunately, I never had to break free of a religious faith because I was never given one in the first place. My formidable, no-nonsense Scottish granny , (and her formidable, no-nonsense Scottish mother before her), were both staunch atheists. My dad was into weird stuff like the i-ching and macrobiotic dieting for a while in the 80s, until he discovered New Scientist magazine. In any case, I was born an atheist and have stayed that way ever since.

I am a hula-hoop dancer (I perform under the name “Swirlesque”), a singer and an aspiring scientist. There I am in the picture, spinning an LED hoop around me knee. I am known in social circles for my exhibitionism, unbeatable limbo skills, lipstick-wearing and inability to bite my tongue.  Apart from running IFHP, I practise piano, take dance classes (in hip-hop, ragga, locking, popping and house – I’m still a beginner), cook, make a terrible mess, lose everything, write lyrics, sing songs, drink cider, nuzzle my cats, lament the death of Christopher Hitchens and rock out.

Me and my hoopI did my degree at Magdalen College, Oxford, in Human Sciences, which is a diverse course covering a wide range of disciplines. For example, population and molecular genetics, evolutionary theory, human evolution and palaeoanthropology, statistics, neuroscience and cognition, zoology, mammalian physiology, ecology, demography, modern sociological theory (which looked at things like network theory and collective action and turned out, to my great surprise, to be one of my favourite papers), nutrition and disease, epidemiology, immunology, cancer genetics and classical anthropology (which I dropped as soon as I could). My two optional papers were in neurolinguistics and cognitive and evolutionary anthropology. My proudest achievement to date is winning the university dissertation prize, for my paper entitled: “Human Incest and its Evolutionary Logic: decoding the data and demystifying the taboo”. In it, I made and tested various predictions (some of them orginal), using a game-theoretic approach, as to when and where incest would be expected to appear in human societies, based on various branches of evolutionary theory. I then put forward what I argued was an explanation with enough power to completely account for cultural incest taboos, based on more evolutionary theory. Let me tell you that thinking, reading and writing about incest for extended periods of time does strange things to the mind.

I am set to return to Oxford (Wadham College this time) in October to do an MSc in Cognitive and Evolutionary Anthropology, providing I manage to raise the funds. (If anyone reading has £25,800 handy, I’d just love to hear from you.)

I hope that the above 1) is interesting to you, 2) shows that we’re not “hiding” anything untoward and 3) might reassure your friends that the things we say in our posts are at least worthy of a lil’ read!

“Dog Rocks” & Meaningless Woofle

It’s a disappointment to find Pete Wedderburn, a qualified vet, endorsing “Dog Rocks”. Here’s what he printed in the Telegraph:

“The brown patches caused by dog urine on lawns are a perennial issue (to borrow a gardening term). Some people claim that a daily dollop of tomato ketchup in the dog’s dinner stops this but evidence is lacking. Dog Rocks are the most popular product marketed to help: these are placed in dogs’ water bowls, claiming to filter out excessive nitrogen and urea from the water. A high concentration of nitrates can cause grass to turn yellow or brown: the idea is that if less nitrates go into the dog, less come out the other end. Dog Rocks claim success in 80 per cent of cases when used according to instructions; they are widely available in pet shops and online (dogrocks.co.uk).”

It is amusing that Wedderburn dismisses ketchup as a solution for lawn burns on the basis of a lack of evidence and then recommends dog rocks instead, via an appeal to popularity. One might have thought that, given his science education, he would know that popularity isn’t evidence for efficacy. In his defence, he doesn’t explicitly claim that dog rocks work – he just says that the company does. Perhaps he simply assumed on good faith that a company claiming to have conducted laboratory tests on their product must be selling something legitimate – which is of course what we really ought to be able to assume, in an ideal world. Unfortunately, this world is not ideal.

According to the the company’s website, dog rocks are “an igneous Rock with absorbing & retaining qualities” that will “stop pet urine ruining your lawn, grass, shrubs and hedging”. The site offers no evidence to back up these claims, and is home to a plethora of archetypal pseudoscience – loose ideas arranged clumsily around science jargon like “stable matrix”, “micro porous medium”, “ion exchange” and “trace elements”. The marketers print the word “PROVEN” on their product packaging in big red capital letters and, as mentioned above, claim that their product is “laboratory tested”. But they fail to offer even the vaguest insight into the nature of these tests, providing no reference whatsoever to study design, who did the testing, or whether the research was published (or even written up), let alone quantitative information  like effect sizes, standard deviation, p-values, etc. Even anti-ageing face-cream companies manage to pay enough lip-service to transparency that we can go and see that their effects are based upon the subjective reports of 20 women brought into their own lab and not peer-reviewed.

Lack of peer-reviewed studies and misuse of science words are both pseudoscience red flags. Other red flags exhibited by the website are: a page of testimonials, repetitious appeals to nature (dog rocks are “100% natural!”), appeals to pH woo (dog rocks “do not change the pH balance of dog’s urine so they should not harm your dog at all”), and a sort of variation on the appeal to ancient wisdom – I’ll call it “provincial wisdom” (dog rocks were “discovered in Australia by an Aboriginal Gardener in the 1990s”).

A quick tour around the website confirms that discerning dog-owners most certainly are not this company’s target market, and makes it clear beyond any reasonable doubt that these “lab tests” are either irrelevant to the question of whether the product actually works, or simply non-existent. Here’s the “technical blurb” (that’s their term, by the way).

Dog Rocks are a coherent Rock with a mechanically stable framework meaning no significant mineral particles are released into the pet’s drinking water, in other words, Dog Rocks do not break down or leech anything into the pet’s drinking water. Dog Rocks form a stable matrix and a micro porous medium in which active components are able to act as a water-purifying agent through ion exchange. For this reason, when placed in water, Dog Rocks will help purify the water by removing some harmful trace elements giving your dog a cleaner source of water.

Perhaps it’s crude of me to even say this, but to my mind one of the most reliable indicators of junk science and B/S is simply the quality of writing. It doesn’t take a literary connoisseur to notice that the writing style exhibited on the Dog Rocks website is cringeworthily naff and unsophisticated, and it has what I would describe as an awkwardly ingratiating, cloying tone. Although that isn’t enough to dismiss scientific claims, in my experience, this particular form of prose is a strikingly accurate predictor of pseudoscience. Fortunately for our purposes, however, we have much more to sink our teeth into than that.

You might have noticed that no explanation is offered as to how the removal of “harmful trace elements” should result in a change in urine composition such that lawn burns would be prevented. Such ambiguous conflation of terms is yet another red flag: it’s not “harmful trace elements” that cause lawn burns, it’s urea and nitrates (both nitrogen-containing substances). This irrelevant appeal to TOXINS, TOXINS, EVERYWHERE and the promise to remove them seems to have been thrown in there opportunistically as a bonus selling point. You might also have noticed that ion-exchange is a two-way street, yet according to the distributors, nothing is released from the product into Buster’s water. Which is it, Dog Rocks?

I visited the FAQ section to find out more about how the product is supposed to work. Under the heading “How do DOG ROCKS work?”, the “technical blurb” quoted above is re-printed verbatim, except with a different incarnation of woofle following the phrase, “For this reason”:

For this reason, when placed in water, Dog Rocks will help purify the water by removing some nitrates, ammonia and harmful trace elements thereby giving your dog a cleaner source of water and lowering the amount of nitrates found in their diet thereby lowering the amount that is expelled in their urine. An overload of nitrates in urine will cause lawns to burn. Dogs do produce nitrates as a by-product from the protein in their diet, but the difference between too much nitrate that will kill the grass and the amount of nitrate that will be good for the grass is very small.

Carnivores have particularly high levels of nitrogen in their urine because their diets include so much protein, and the digestion of amino acids (the building blocks of protein) creates nitrogenous waste, primarily in the form of urea. As the above quote alludes to, diluted urine can be used as a fertiliser, precisely because it contains nitrogen – one of the most important macronutrients for plants. However, at high concentrations, it causes chemical burns to roots by sapping water from them as a result of osmotic pressure. Evidence that dog rocks can transform weedkiller-wee into fertilizer, as they claim, however, is entirely absent.

On the website, the manufacturers try to gloss over the fact that the nitrogen in dogs’ urine comes overwhelmingly from the protein that they eat with their assertion (featuring in the last quote) that “the difference between too much nitrate…and the amount…that will be good for the grass is very small”. The amount of urea in canine urine is 3.5 ± 2.4 mg/dl* – like human urine, it already varies quite considerably. The manufacturers are basically admitting that the reduction in nitrogen concentration achieved by dog rocks will be “very small”, but hanging on to the case for efficacy by saying that a very small reduction is all that is needed. Their use of the phrase “very small”, without any quantification or context is entirely unscientific and misleading. Small relative to what? An infinitesimal is “very small”; so is an electron; so is an ant; so is a Falabella pony, all relative to their contexts. 

The company fails to give a threshold concentration value of urinary nitrogen beyond which urine burns plant roots, and below which it doesn’t (which is fishy in and of itself – this would have been one of the most important things to determine in those “lab tests” they say they conducted). If the change in nitrogen concentration effected by dog rocks is “very small”, then the product should only work in the subset of cases in which a dog’s initial urinary nitrogen concentration happens to be just above this undeclared value, and for owners to notice a change would require that individual dogs always produced urine with that same concentration – just a “very small” fraction above the magic value  which they don’t. In reality, urea concentration fluctuates from pee to pee – the ability to vary urine concentration is one of the most important properties of the mammalian kidney. A “very small” change would would be drowned out by the noise of this daily variation. The only way I can see dog rocks working is if they were to effect a “very big” change which, given the relatively enormous amount of protein dogs eat, is physiologically implausible. So, assuming that dog rocks do actually remove nitrates from water (the website gives us no reason to believe that they do, and plenty of red flags to suggest that they probably don’t), the idea that this would translate into prevention of lawn burns in anywhere near 80% of cases is wholly unconvincing.

To summarise, the company has failed on four levels:

1) It provides no demonstration that the nitrates in the water a dog drinks contributes significantly towards its propensity to produce lawn spots.

2) It provides no evidence that dog rocks lower nitrate concentration in drinking water, nor does it describe a plausible mechanism for how they might do so, beyond unspecified “ion exchange”. (Incidentally, if these things really could absorb nitrates, wouldn’t the company be a major seller to people who own expensive aquarium set-ups?)

3) It provides no evidence, if indeed dietary nitrates consumed in water did play a significant role, that their product could significantly reduce nitrate content in dogs’ urine, relative to the nitrates coming from other sources (particularly the meat that they eat).

4) It provides no evidence that, if indeed their product did significantly reduce the nitrate content in dog urine relative to the nitrates coming from other sources, this would translate into an impact on lawn burn.

Any evidence filling in the logical gaps in their sales pitch represented by points 1-4 above would be helpful to Dog Rocks. A demonstration of each stage, along with a functional explanation, would be most convincing. However, demonstration of point 4 alone would be a good start in making their case for efficacy. They could conduct a randomised controlled study, submitted to peer-review, in which a group of, say, a hundred volunteers used dog rocks for a few months, and a hundred used “normal” rocks instead. The outcomes could be quantified by counting the number of lawn burns at the beginning and end of the trial, and then the results statistically analysed to determine whether any significant reduction had been achieved.

Something tells me that Dog Rocks won’t rise to the challenge.

I couldn’t help quoting what one Amazon reviewer of the product said in their concluding paragraph: “The ONLY truly effective solution to brown patches on your lawn is to pour a bucket of water on the exact spot that your dog has just had a wee, as soon as they have done it. If that’s not practical, then your next best solution is to save the money you would be spending on Dog Rocks every two months, and buy 2 rolls of turf. Cut out the dead patches on your lawn, and replace them with new turf. Repeat every two months. Job done.”

*I have been unable to ascertain whether this value of 3.5 +/- 2.4 mg/dl refers to deviation across different dogs, over an individual dogs’ different pees, or a combination of the two ranges. If any vets are reading and can shed light, this would be nice for completeness. 

I flipping strongly dislike dogma

We’ve had a new round of criticism regarding the name of our FB page, so we thought we’d clarify our terminology.

Why hate

The definition of “hate” that we are using is very simple: “very strongly dislike”. And we didn’t make that definition up to suit our purposes. Check it out in the dictionary. We strongly dislike pseudoscience because it damages people, and we love and care about people. Pseudoscience even kills people, when it diverts them from medicine that works, as in the case of serious illness. See http://whatstheharm.net/ for more on this point.

Pseudoscience also damages people intellectually, in the sense that it fosters a willingness to form beliefs without first subjecting the tenets of those beliefs to critical evaluation. This, in our opinion, is a tragedy in itself, because to get maximum mileage out of the delectable brain-candy that is science, you have first to be able to identify it. Above all other things under the sun, Science is our solace. And it saddens us that so many people don’t know how it works, and are being prevented from experiencing the joy of knowing how it works by the propagation of obscuring-yet-superficially-appealing false information.

However, it is a tragedy in another, more sinister sense, too. In the absence of evidence as a proviso for taking on new beliefs, people can potentially believe anything. History gives testament to the diversity of malevolence to which such a relaxation of constraints on belief-formation can give rise. To reel off a few familiar examples: some beliefs result in hundreds of thousands of girls having their clitorises gouged out (without anaesthesia) every year. Other beliefs have resulted in people being tied up and burned alive. As we speak, some beliefs are causing people to miss out on their one shot at surviving cancer, or getting to age 40 before dying of AIDS-related illness. Some beliefs lead people to kill their own children. One of them led to Peter Andre eating so many bananas that he nearly died of a potassium overdose.*

We hate pseudoscience in a comparable way to that in which we hate poverty or racism and indeed all exploitative or otherwise harmful practises, creeds and phenomena. We feel, passionately, that making concrete claims without evidence to back those claims up is unethical, and we want it to stop.

It’s evident that some of you will have different mental representations of the lexical category “hate” from the one we do, because “strongly disliking” something is clearly a very good and quite uncontroversial place to start if you want that thing to stop. If you have no problem with strongly disliking then, under our definition, you automatically have no problem with the word “hate”. If you do have a problem with strongly disliking, then you won’t be one of those people who has expressed a strong dislike of our use of the word “hate”. Will you.

It is absolutely fine if you don’t want to be associated with a word that, in your brain, means something specifically more nasty than “strongly dislike”. Nonetheless, we are very comfortable with the term indeed, and would like it henceforth to be known that accusing us, in loud capital letters, of being guilty of anything more than “strongly disliking”, will be an example of your committing an informal logical fallacy. (Can anyone identify it?)

We could have called ourselves “I fucking strongly dislike pseudoscience”, but 1) it sounds shit, and 2) I doubt we would have been featured on “I fucking love science”, the exposure resulting from which has been instrumental in the growth of our readership over the last year.

As one final point here, we do NOT hate believers. We see believers as victims of dangerous and unsavoury yet very catchy beliefs. (The author of this note would even go so far as to say that, in a philosophical sense, she doesn’t even hate the fat-cats who make millions peddling “treatments” that they know to be ineffective. She feels deep pity for them in their tragic loss of compassion – the worst and deepest kind of impoverishment of which she can conceive.) In other words, IFHP hates pseudoscience, not pseudoscientists.

Why pseudoscience?

Every time we post about religion, we get a few people saying, “This is nothing to do with pseudoscience. What is it doing here?”, usually in much less civil terms. So, here’s our defence: as activists against pseudoscience, we feel at liberty to comment on topics related to pseudoscience. Religions (and mysticism) are very closely related to pseudoscience (indeed, the author would go as far as to argue that religion is really the mother of all pseudosciences), in that they “make concrete claims about things without evidence to back those claims up“, as per the “Why hate” section of this note. They also have a tendency to threaten eternal torment if you fail to believe these claims. Yuck!!

To be clear, the phrase in italics doesn’t represent a watertight definition of pseudoscience. Defining pseudsocience is known as the demarcation problem, and it boasts a distinguished history. There is no clear-cut rule that can determine whether something’s properties are necessary and sufficient for categorisation as pseudoscience (bear in mind that categorisation in general tends to have this property), so we use checklists, or red flags. The major monotheistic religions would fail on all 9 of Carl Sagan’s “baloney detection kit“, and fly all the major pseudoscience red flags (which are generally derived from it).

I guess we could have called the page “I fucking hate dogma”, which would have saved us having constantly to justify our discussions of religion (to people who haven’t spent two years making the page what it is…). But leaving aside our feeling that religion *is* pseudoscience, “I fucking hate pseudoscience” worked better as a mirror page for “I fucking love science”, which, as we have already alluded to (and are not ashamed to admit), we thought we’d see if we could use as a piggyback to get our page out there.

Why fucking?

Three words: “get”, “over”, and “it”.

The first edition of this note, written last year, left it at that. We still feel that three words says it all, but the author is one year older than she was last year and her more mature self tells her that she should pay at least some lip-service to the argument from vulgarity.

Swearing, for reasons I can’t quite get behind (…the author can’t get behind? Gosh, referring to oneself in third-person gets tiring) upsets some people. In her, my and our view, as long as you’re not swearing all the fucking time (whoops), in such a way that it starts to prevent you from articulating yourself properly, there really is no problem. (Incidentally, the author massively prefers compulsive, chronic swearing to compulsive, chronic use of “like”, a language virus that afflicts most young Anglophones today and whose effects require constant monitoring by the host to quash.) However, if swearing, even in small and measured doses, really does offend you (one can only imagine the toils and tribulations you must face at the cinema/in front of the TV/during life in general), then there are plenty of other “family-friendly” skeptical pages out there. Once again, and for reasons already given, we deliberately named our page using the same format as IFLS. This necessitated our embrace of that most vile and filthy of all ‘F’ words.

Bottom line? Like it or leave it, but please don’t accuse us of being hateful** people, because in actual fact this page would not exist were it not for the fact that our compassion and our concern for people veritably spilleth o’er. 


* OK, OK. So I can’t verify this rumour and perhaps it’s an urban legend. However, if it were true, it would help explain this bizarre behaviour. There’s this, too.

** Adjective

  1. Arousing, deserving of, or filled with hatred: “hateful letters of abuse”.
  2. Very unpleasant: “this hateful place”.