Friday, 29 September 2023

Science’s big problem(s)

Anyone who follows this blog (you know who you are) will have noticed the concentration of late on non-science topics. So I thought it was worth returning to my former stomping ground. This was, in part, because I came across something specific in the press that caught my attention. But it also relates to a much bigger, and therefore more troubling, theme. Science matters because it is clear that it is the best, perhaps the only way, to effectively answer certain types of important questions. It has an impressive (though not unblemished) track record. Some of the problems we face today pose questions of exactly the type science in the past has helped to answer. So if science is in trouble, we’re all in trouble. It is therefore wise to reflect on the position “it” finds itself in.

Let’s start with some specifics. Patrick Brown is a climate scientist. He obtained his PhD (Title: “Magnitude and Mechanisms of Unforced Variability in Global Surface Temperature”) from Duke University in 2016 and has since been fairly productive. As far as I can see, has had three papers published in Nature as “first author” to date; not bad for someone relatively early in his career. It is the third and most recent of these (Climate warming increases extreme daily wildfire growth risk in California”; Nature 621:760-766, published 30/06/2023) that has excited most comment. However, the comment has not primarily been around the science in his paper. Judging from his citation statistics (a far from perfect metric), Patrick is competent but he hasn’t exactly set the heather alight. It was what he did after his latest Nature paper was published that led to things getting tasty. On September 5th he published an article in “The Free Press” entitled “I left out the full truth to get my climate change paper published”; this article was later also published in the The Times under the title “Groupthink in science is no good for the planet” (The Times, September 9th, p28) generating much more attention (at least on this side of the Atlantic).

Basically he claimed in his articles that he (and his co-authors) had narrowed the focus of their approach in the Nature paper to that of the effect of climate change on wildfires, all the time knowing that much more complex issues were in play. But they knew that if they “overcomplicated” the picture, so that it did not so clearly support the story that important journals like Nature “want to tell”, their paper would have likely been bounced. If they had broadened the focus (in the process presenting a more accurate and useful picture) they would have been seen not to support “certain preapproved narratives” that some journals, including Nature, are pushing. He fairly makes the point that getting published in prestigious journals has a big influence on someone’s academic career, and that these days it is hard to stick out from the crowd of other PhD’s. So this non-scientific factor, as much as the importance of the science they had done, determined important things like what metrics they had used to assess what was going on with Californian wildfires, and how the data that had resulted from their analysis was interpreted and presented. He was just innocently playing the game of building an academic career. But, having moved out of academia, he now felt moved to act the whistleblower and tell all. Not that he is in favour of retracting the paper as he still thinks “it advances our understanding of climate change’s role in day-to-day wildfire behavior”. It’s just that “the process of customizing the research for an eminent journal caused it to be less useful than it could have been”. The fact that there is a competing narrative in this space (i.e. that man-made climate change is a hoax), and that his “exposé” was jumped on as evidence of scientific skulduggery, didn't seem to bother him (at least initially).

I don’t have the expertise to comment on his Nature article. But of course, before it was published, those with appropriate expertise did. Nature published the peer review reports along with the final paper, and interestingly while the paper itself is behind Nature’s paywall, the reports aren’t (you can access them using the Nature link above). What these make clear is that some of the reviewers made the point that some of the wider issues should have been covered in the paper and hadn’t been. Given the tale that Brown subsequently told, this is a bit surprising. But what is even more surprising is that Brown and his fellow authors then robustly defended their approach. This shows that there was no particular “preapproved narrative”, or at least not one of the kind alleged. The reviewers (and the Editor) dealt with the paper on its merits as we all might expect. So his charge that some agenda that is not supported by the science is being prosecuted, looks a lot weaker than at first it appears.

But what Dr Brown seems to miss entirely is that he has told us that on at least one particular occasion he deliberately shaped his approach so that the resulting paper became potentially misleading or at least less useful (something the Nature reviewers in effect picked up on and challenged). In fact in his Free Press article he claims he left academia because “the pressures put on academic scientists caused too much of the research to be distorted”. Presumably he means his own research as well as that of others – a serious charge. Yet, despite confessing to distortion, we are supposed to take his commentary (unchallenged by reviewers and perhaps serving an agenda) at face value. And it’s not as though he is some kind of innocent when it comes to the media. He knows well how the media works specifically when it comes to his area of expertise (climate change). He published a paper about precisely this back in 2016 (“Reporting on global warming: A study in headlines”). Now he is in the private sector, free from that insidious pressure to “distort” (his word, not mine). But presumably he is also now being paid for his words by individual and corporate donors. We can hardly be sure that it is data and careful analysis that are the centre of his considerations. After all, he has form. It all begins to look a bit murky.

And that’s a big problem. All over, science is beginning to look murky. Much of Brown’s commentary is recognisable. There is pressure to publish, and particularly to publish in “top” journals like Nature. I’ve submitted to Nature myself (more in hope than expectation). And decisions do have to be made about both data selection and analysis, even in much simpler situations that those being investigated by Brown and his co-authors. Can this lead to bias and misrepresentation? Yes it can. But that is where the challenge of reviewers and editors, the peer review system, becomes so important. The system seems to have worked in the case of Brown’s Nature paper. Although the reviewers expressed concerns, these were answered by the authors, and the paper was deemed to make a sufficient contribution (something Brown continues to agree with) to be published. Does it present only part of the picture? Of course it does. It’s now up to others to criticise, challenge, refine or refute what’s in that one paper. If it is actually misleading, that will become clear. That’s science.

But the bigger theme here is a problem about journals; they are a key part of science and collectively comprise the “literature”. Brown’s point was that they may not be as neutral and dispassionate as one would like to think (whether justified or not in the case of his Nature paper). There are other problems too, particularly the issue of “predatory” journals which has been discussed for a while in scientific publishing circles (see this article and others on the the Scholarly Kitchen site). Predatory journals are those whose primary concern is to make money not publish good science. They tend to have lax acceptance and reviewing standards because the more they publish the more money they make. This has been encouraged by a change in who pays for published science. It used to be almost entirely the case that the user (i.e. the reader) paid. But this began to change, partly because of technology and partly because of claims that his was discriminatory. Lots of scientists in low and middle income countries were excluded because neither they nor their institutional libraries could afford the subscriptions that were charged for access to journals. So there was a change to a “producer pays” model. Some journals charge a fee simply to consider a manuscript for publication, and all of them charge a fee to publish papers once the peer review process has determined that a paper is of sufficient merit. Publication fees range from a few hundred £s/$s, to several thousand. Some charge flat fees, others charge by the published page. However, once published the research is open to all, and aided by the interweb, accessible to all. But it is clear that what was meant to assist openness and accessibility is being abused, and that the “literature” is being undermined as a result.

It was always the case that nonsense could be published in scientific journals, including the prestigious ones. I used to have to tell students that just because something was published didn’t make it true. There is never any substitute for careful reading and equally careful thinking. But as the number of predatory journals has increased (one 2021 estimate put the number at 15,059), so has the level of murkiness, and gradually we risk the whole scientific enterprise losing the trust of public and politicians alike. What is the root cause of these problems? Well, unfortunately it is something that cannot be fixed (although it can be improved). Science is a human activity, and is therefore as flawed as humans are. Most scientists are competent and conscientious, some are lazy, a very small number are fraudulent, but all are human. Even although as an institution science is to some extent self-correcting, it remains at its core the activity of flawed women and men. Science’s big problem is scientists. And just when we need them too.

Saturday, 2 September 2023

Mourning Christianity (or at least its decline)

Reports of the death of Christianity, like those of Mark Twain’s death, have been greatly exaggerated. Reports of the death of “Christian Britain” are not so much exaggerated as misconceived, given that the adjective “Christian” is usually so emptied of its meaning that it provides no useful description of the noun “Britain”. But you would be forgiven for thinking that something seismic is going on if you had been reading the Times of late. Last year it went to town when the UK Office of National Statistics published its analysis of the latest census figures for England and Wales, reporting that less that 50% of the population (actually 46.2%) self identified as Christian. This prompted headlines such as “End of an era for Christian Britain” (The Times, Nov 30th, 2022). At the time I commented on similar reports in the Guardian, which has the great virtue of not being behind a paywall.

As an aside, it is worth pointing out that between then and now we have had the SNP leadership election. That is relevant because one of the candidates had made clear publicly that she was a Christian (in the Biblical as opposed to popular sense) and that this motivated and affected her politics, resulting in Christianity and politics grabbing the headlines for a time. This led to quite a furore in Scottish politics which revealed, among other things, the complete inability of the media, as well as a fair proportion of the political class, to report such matters and discuss the issues raised with any great accuracy (let alone consistency). I discussed this at the time. There were honourable exceptions of course including, in the Times, Matthew Parris (see his column “In politics, there’s no such thing as private faith”, March 4th, 2023). Mind you I was surprised to read in that particular column that “Most of our Prime Ministers have been practising Christians”. Church goers, probably. Intelligent, educated people from a time and of a class who obtained a bit of Bible knowledge and could conjure up the odd quote when necessary; some of them, certainly. Decent human beings trying to do an almost impossible and complex job in always tricky circumstances, fair enough. But using “Christian” in this context would again require some definitional work to be undertaken (although not now – this is an aside).

For it is necessary to return to the Times, and some of its output this last week. It has been reporting on the results of a survey that it conducted into the views of Church of England clergy (starting with “Britain is no longer a Christian country, say frontline clergy”, published Tuesday, 29th August). Such an exercise is not without merit. After all, the Church of England is a large, wealthy and culturally important English institution. It is in the midst of debating and seeking to come to a mind on important and divisive issues. The particular issues, let it be noted, are of wide, political and cultural significance. From the data returned in the survey various conclusion were drawn and boldly asserted. “Two thirds of Anglican clergy think that..”, “A majority of priests want…” (apparently what the culture wants). Others have commented on the survey and its reporting, and a highly readable critique of it can be found on Ian Paul’s “Psephizo” blog. Unlike me, he was actually sent the survey, and has interesting things to say about some of the questions asked.

As is common in our newspapers today (and the media more widely), the conclusions come well before the methodology and the raw numbers, although to be fair both are eventually provided. This is the opposite of how things are presented in (most) scientific papers. If you are going to draw sound conclusions from such an exercise, then how you go about obtaining the data is critical. But newspapers (and even Times) appear to think that such information is a tiresome detail. It has to be included for form’s sake, but who is going to read that far into the article? In this instance (as ever) how they obtained their numbers is revealing, as is the fuller picture of their numbers that the methodology provides.

According to last Tuesday’s article: The Times selected 5,000 priests at random from among those with English addresses in Crockford’s Clerical Directory of Anglican Clergy and received 1,436 responses, analysing data from the 1,185 respondents still serving.” According to the Church of England there are about 20 000 active clergy (although exactly what “active clergy” means is complicated). So the Times started with a potential sample of 25% of the population it was interested in. Not entirely unreasonable. But while it sounds sensible to pick addresses at random, this doesn’t mean that the resulting sample will be able to provide anything like a snapshot of the clergy as a whole. In fact, as a population the Church of England clergy is highly structured, breaking into clearly defined sub-populations, often along lines related to some of the issues the Times was interested in, and there’s no way to control for this, although it might have been possible to account for it in the analysis. It doesn’t appear that a weighted analysis was done, even if they had the numbers to do it. In any case, 28.7% of their initial sample responded (actually not bad for a survey of this kind); of which 82.5% provided analysable data (we’re not told the problem with the other 17.5%). So the reporting is based on the views of 5.9% (approximately; 1185/20000) of the Church of England's active clergy.

One can understand why this number is, if not obscured, not particularly prominent. On the basis of this rather thin sliver of opinion, we are told there has been an “historic shift on gay marriage and questions of sex” – suspiciously in exactly the direction favoured by the culture at large. One proponent of such views, now no longer himself ministering within within the C of E, was happy to proclaim that “This is absolutely huge”. But it really isn’t. I assume the gentleman concerned was unaware of the methodology that had been used, only of the conclusions that had been reached. Do the results of this survey indicate any real change of view within the Church of England? We have no way of knowing. But clearly there is a constituency who would dearly love the Times’ reporting to contribute momentum to a drift in a particular direction.

To jump from either the results of the last census, or the results of the Times’ survey of clergy in one particular Christian grouping, to conclusions about those who make up the body of Christ (i.e. the Church in England), is to jump to unwarranted conclusions. And it is a tad parochial (no pun intended). It is to confuse the visible church in one part of the world, always a mixed and often an apparently weak body, with the invisible church, a graced and glorious body of saints worldwide known certainly only to Jesus Himself. The latter group is in rude good health, although I wouldn’t expect this to be reported any time soon in a newspaper any of us have heard of.

To sightly misquote an anonymous funeral poem “Do not weep for [us] for [we] have not gone. Not yet that is. But one day, perhaps soon.