Life in the Pandemic XIV: The fictional and the fake……

I freely admit it. I’m a fan of Sorkin snappy dialogue. Aaron Sorkin is the screenwriter behind films like “A Few Good Men”, “Charlie Wilson’s War”, “Moneyball” and “The Social Network”. And I’ve just started re-watching his classic TV political drama “The West Wing”. This used to be my treat when I had to travel to conferences far away. Those were the days when we climbed into things called aeroplanes and flew thousands of miles just to give tiny little ten-minute talks and listen to lots of other little ten-minute talks. Those were the days when we felt blessed if our laptops had things called CD drives (or slightly later DVD drives) into which we placed discs containing films or TV series. While this meant that the laptop weighed about the same as a sack of potatoes, it provided a means of whiling away hours at airports, on flights or during evenings spent in mid-budget hotel rooms. So, spread over a couple of years I watched my way through the seven series of The West Wing in the mid to late naughties. 

It centred on the goings on in the West Wing of the Whitehouse during the two terms of the fictional Bartlet presidency. The main protagonists were the smart, witty, morally-superior and, of course, left-leaning senior staff that surrounded the President. President Bartlet himself was of course a Democrat, and was a (fairly conscientious) Roman Catholic and ex-academic economist turned Governor of New Hampshire. The interplay between the President and his communications directors (Toby), or between Josh and the press secretary CJ, or between the President’s “body man” Charlie and Sam the speech-writer, or between any and all of them was a rollercoaster ride of wit and apparent, knowing wisdom. It could be a bit preachy at times, but occasionally dealt with serious subjects and there was the odd tear-jerking moment.  Despite the fact that I had very little in common with any of these characters, and that even the political system they worked within was (by definition) foreign to me, I was hooked within an episode. And even although US evangelicals (and by extension all of us, because we’re obviously a single monolithic block) got a good kicking in about episode 3 of series 1, I stayed hooked right to the very end as the Bartlet presidency came to its natural and inescapable end with the transition to a new (Democratic) administration.

The contrast between Barlet’s  fictional Whitehouse and the current Trump Whitehouse is fairly stark. In the fictional version, there was frequently chaos, but you always new that the chaos was more apparent than real and that things would probably work out. Everyone on the team basically knew what they were doing and why they were doing it. So there was a basic competence that ran deep, even if on the surface there was just a lot of running around going on. And at the top, Bartlet always led in roughly the right direction. Even when he had to agonise over difficult choices, he would think it through, within a broadly recognisable moral framework, and provide the lead that everyone else needed. Occasionally, because he was a politician, he dissembled, and wasn’t entirely transparent. There were secrets that were kept, and others that eventually exploded. There were mistakes, but Bartlet (this being fiction) was big enough and self-assured enough to admit them. All the time these were people who were at least trying to be truthful and decent.

For the last four years even the friends of a real, rather than fictional, president of the United States would have to admit that basic decency, empathy and truth have been in short supply. To be fair, Trump has delivered on some of the big promises he made, promises that persuaded less than half of the US voting population to vote for him. High on the list would be a considerably more conservative Supreme Court and a big tax cut. Of course, who knows what the new shape of the court will produce in the long-term, and the tax cut was of little use to the massed ranks of many of his supporters (although it was a big boost to rich Americans and richer corporations). As the 2020 election campaign heads towards its climax, this allows his boosters to counsel that the population of the US should concentrate on what the Donald has done (or at least some of the things he’s done), not who he is. One odd thing is that so much of both what he’s done, and who he is, is so much stranger than fiction. While not a fictional politician, Trump has turned out to be a fake. Fake outsider, fake man of the people, fake deal-maker, fake wall-builder, fake man of faith and Bible lover. Had Sorkin written a script that was anything approaching the last four years and tried to get it made into a film or TV series, he would have been laughed out of town.

I know that the Bartlet Whitehouse was made up. But basic competence and decency really should not be too much to ask. We all understand that hard choices have to be made, often between bad and worse alternatives. This is probably even more the case in the pandemic. But such choices require accurate information, careful thought and broad, civilised discussion, and should be both intelligible and explained (at least in a democracy). Even when disputed, at least a dialogue can ensue, and perhaps things improved for the future. A lack of accurate information is not always the fault of politicians, but a lack of careful thought is unforgivable. We all understand that wrong choices are occasionally made, particularly against a background of incomplete information. Politicians should be able to change course as more information becomes available without the constant chorus of U-turn media political catastrophism. U-turns are sometimes necessary, and if explainable and explained, probably forgivable. But we’ve seen none of this from the Trump Whitehouse, who have scrapped with each other, have exulted in ignorance and even elevated it above competence, and then resorted to complete fantasy. Fantasy that isn’t nearly as compelling or attractive as The West Wing. Leading the charge has been the Donald himself and then he wonders why he’s not loved.

Commenting on the outcome of the 2020 election, Sorkin himself said “I would write the ending where everyone does the right thing. I don’t think Trump will do the right thing, except by accident.” We’ll see shortly.

Life in the Pandemic X: Exacerbating uncertainty

 Many things in life are uncertain (apart from death and taxes obviously). And many things are uncertain in science. Indeed identifying, controlling and quantifying uncertainty is a key aspect of the practice of science. We’re so keenly aware of uncertainty that we try to dissuade students of talking about science “proving” things, as though in any given situation absolutely all uncertainty can be removed. We don’t think that it can be, and we can therefore never be “certain”. What we seek to do is accumulate evidence supporting a particular explanation for a given phenomenon so that it moves from being highly provisional (a hypothesis), to being fairly probably the correct explanation (a supported hypothesis), to being the best and most highly supported explanation we have (at which point it’s  usually elevated to the status of a theory). This takes time and effort. Even so, we also accept that the most accepted theory, with apparently lots of supporting evidence, can always be superseded by a new theory. This might be an extension of the original theory, or indeed a contradiction of it. But this whole approach raises  problems. It is tricky to explain (as you may have noticed), and it’s not the way most people think or speak most of the time. These problems (and why they matter) have been amply exposed by the pandemic.

Let’s start with the language problem. There are situations where certainty is conflated with clarity. In a startling reversal of form for the particular bunch of politicians currently running the UK, the pandemic mantra has been “We’re following the science, therefore….”. This is a reversal because it suited them in a previous situation (ie the Brexit debate), to downplay the view of “experts”. But as I’ve noted before, in the pandemic, this has changed. Experts are in; but uncertainty is not out.

Politicians and the media, are very keen on what they call clarity. But COVID19 is a virus new to  humans, and therefore new to science. Nothing was known, indeed could be known, about it (although things could be inferred). Early in the pandemic, at the time when many key decisions were being taken, the science was more than usually uncertain, and therefore the scientific advice to politicians had to be highly caveated (this is an assumption on my part, I wasn’t privy to it). But this doesn’t make for snappy press conferences. And it almost certainly guaranteed that the advice would change, and therefore the instructions issued by politicians would have to change (example: face masks). The media don’t particularly help in such situations. Their stock in trade is the language of u-turn and climb-down. It might have been wise to clearly communicate from the start that the course of action being embarked upon was based on a consensus of what, given the evidence at the time, was reasonable. Not certain, but reasonable. Problem is, would any of us reacted as we need to if the politicians had spoken this way?

To be fair to them, there have been some sceptics and deniers who have been happy to jump up and down and accuse them of exaggerating the danger of the situation for nefarious political ends. They have pointed out that for all the talk of half a million UK dead and the NHS overwhelmed, this was not the disaster that developed. But this is to miss the point. The one experiment that could not be done was the one that involved doing nothing and essentially letting COVID19 run its course. So on the basis of (suitably caveated) advice, we had our lockdown. And while we can’t be certain (that is, after all, the point I’m making), the difference in case and death curves (eg see here) between most EU countries (including the UK) and others like the US and Brazil, suggests that this was indeed a sensible course of action. As an aside, we have to now hope that we don’t blow it, and revert to the earlier trajectory that could lead to disaster. However, at least some of the critics seem to suggest that with all the uncertainty involved, essentially nothing should have been done. Action should only have been taken once all doubt had been removed. But then that would have meant nothing would have been done. And many thousands more would have died, deaths that we have almost certainly avoided. It will perhaps be possible to demonstrate this statistically, once more  evidence has accumulated. But at the point the big political and economic decisions had to be taken, actual evidence was scarce.

We have heard this sort of call to wait for certainty before, both in another contemporary context and historically. And it’s here that the language problem, and the complexity problem intersect. Climate change, its cause, effects and what we should do about it (if we can do anything about it), is undoubtedly complex. The idea that it is caused by human activity (primarily the burning of fossil fuels from the industrial revolution on, increasing atmospheric CO₂) has been a matter of overwhelming scientific consensus for decades ie we’ve gone beyond hypothesis, supported hypothesis, and theory to consensus. Even still, scientists in this area will probably be unwilling to say they have no doubts, that the relevant theory/theories have been “proved” in some absolute sense. That’s just not the appropriate language of science. But that allows others to come along and say that the science is uncertain, there are alternative explanations or the whole thing is just a hoax. Here, a legal analogy might help.

I served on a murder jury some years ago. We were faced with the weighty decision of whether the prosecution had proved its case beyond reasonable doubt. Notice that you can still convict and have doubt. The question is whether the case is proved beyond reasonable doubt. One can always come up with lots of “could be’s” and “might have beens”. But if they fly in the face of the evidence, or are not supported by evidence, then they are not reasonable. And if they are not reasonable, they is no reason to pronounce the defendant “not guilty”. If the scientific consensus around climate change were a defendant in the dock, although there are doubts and uncertainties, they would be ruled out by the evidence as unreasonable, a guilty verdict handed down, and the jury would go away and sleep soundly, their duty done. And yet the uncertainty, complexity, and the language of science conspire to provide a space for those who say we should do nothing because we are not 100% certain, precisely at the time when action has to be taken.

At least some who operate in this space are following in a fairly inglorious tradition that has been exposed several times. They seek to foment doubt and increase complexity, obfuscate evidence and exacerbate uncertainty. They explicitly seek to sow doubt, of the unreasonable sort. The approach was famously summarised by a cigarette company executive in the 1960’s in a now infamous memo which stated “Doubt is our product since it is the best means of competing with the ‘body of fact’ that exists in the mind of the general public.”(1). What followed was essentially a well funded disinformation campaign of epic proportions. Meanwhile, cigarettes continued to be manufactured, sold and consumed and contributed to the early deaths of millions. The story of this and similar campaigns is expertly revealed in its gory detail by David Michaels in his books (2,3). And there’s evidence that there are commercial and other interests playing the same game with climate change. Stir up doubt, exacerbate the uncertainty, and the public will conclude that either the issues are so complicated and unclear that it would be premature to take action (like ban smoking or increase tax on gas guzzlers), or that the inconvenience of action is not worth uncertain benefits.

This kind of thing is happening in the pandemic. Reasonable people are not taking reasonable actions because, particularly in the US, misinformation is being spread and uncertainty is being exacerbated. The scary bit is that when the much hoped-for vaccine becomes available, we all know it’s likely to start over vaccination against COVID19. But, to resort to some unscientific language, you can be sure that wearing a mask and washing your hands frequently at the moment, and getting vaccinated once one or more vaccines have passed through the requisite trials, is a really good idea. I don’t doubt it.

 1. Michaels D (2005) Doubt is their product. Scientific American 292(6):96-101 (available on Research Gate: https://www.researchgate.net/publication/7806937_Doubt_Is_Their_Product)

 2. Michaels D (2008) Doubt is Their Product. Oxford Univ. Press

 3. Michaels D (2020 )The Triumph of Doubt: Dark Money and the Science of Deception Oxford Univ. Press

Told you to trust me – more on faith and science

I want to return to the issue of faith in science. But there are two ways in which I mean “faith in science”. The first is the role that faith plays in the practice of science. This is important because some appear to argue that science is a frostily rational business where we step from the solid ground of one fact to the next, illuminating causal links and generating new, reliable knowledge along the way. This is contrasted with the faith which is involved in religion, usually assumed to be anti-fact and irrational. Second is the sense that you dear reader, should put your faith in science, as the only true route to enlightenment and happiness. It’s the only sure way to provide us with the necessary knowledge to keep us well fed and warm. You may not understand it yourself, but that’s fine because there’s a cadre of reliable, trustworthy and clever people (called scientists), and they will keep you right.

What is the role that faith plays in the practice of science? This is a hotly disputed topic, because there are those who feel highly insulted at the very notion that religious faith and the intellectual procedures of science are in any way comparable. And of course there have been attempts to distinguish between the sort of faith exercised by scientists and that involved in religion (see for example Paul Bloom’s article in the Atlantic). I find few of the arguments advanced compelling. Partly this is because many of the claims made about religious faith seem to be very different to my experience of faith as a believer. Bloom makes the following claim in his article:

“Science establishes conditions where rational argument is able to flourish, where ideas can be tested against the world”

This is another version of the rational science vs irrational faith argument; he implies that things are different in religion. My experience of Biblical Christianity is that rational argument flourishes, and that ideas are tested. I don’t leave my mind outside the door on Sunday (or any other day).  And while there are clearly points of tension where what the Bible teaches comes up against what is popularly believed, this evokes careful, rational thought and reflection - testing. Where there is an apparent conflict between what science appears to have established, and what Scripture appears to teach, again, careful thought is required. Sometimes, it will turn out that how I have understood Scripture is at fault. Sometimes, what it is claimed science has established will have been at fault, and Scripture vindicated. Science, like all human activity, occasionally, and spectacularly gets things wrong, particularly where it is misapplied to areas outwith its competence. And sometimes, I’ll just have to accept that neither I, nor you, nor anyone else knows it all, and that we all might have to wait for things to become clearer. The point is that none of this is irrational easy-believism. So I’m not convinced that the thinking I do in the lab, and the thinking I do in Church, are two very different kinds of thinking. There are differences, but these are more subtle than some would allow.

As for faith, it is involved in both places. In my lab I trust the work of others, and seek to build on it. I place my faith in a whole bunch of assumptions and background information that I never question (at least as long as there is no apparent problem). Some assumptions are a really big deal and actually play a role in me turning up to work at all. And I simply trust them. Take for example the fine-sounding notion of “the uniformity of nature” (UoN for short). This is the idea that if I conduct an experiment in my lab in Liverpool, and do it properly, and I get a particular result, I’ll get the same result tomorrow if I do everything the same. So the information I generate today has value tomorrow, next week, next year and so on. And the same result will be obtained if the same experiment is conducted in London, Lisbon, Lagos or Lahore. The information generated has value everywhere. If this we not the case why would I bother? But what proof do I have that the principle of the UoN exists? None really, beyond the experience that so far it seems to have held. It’s not something that I’ve investigated in any detail. It’s an article of faith. And one could multiply such examples. So faith, in the sense of a trust in people, and a trust in certain principles, provides a basis and framework for my practice and operates in my professional life as a scientist.  

As for the second sense in which I mean “faith in science”, it will probably have escaped your notice that there is a crisis going on in science. The pages of Nature (one of the most prestigious and widely read scientific journals), have been taken up over recent months with the issue of just how reliable science, or least some aspects of science, actually are. In fields as diverse as psychology and clinical trials the charge is that one of the most important principles in science has been routinely and radically undermined – the principle of reproducibility. This is the idea that important results must be repeated; that they must be both confirmable and confirmed. It’s for this reason that when I write a scientific paper, I have to include a section that details how I did what I did. This is so that other people have enough information to repeat it all, to check my results. However, with an increasing number of studies, either there isn’t enough information to repeat them, or when they have been repeated, the results have been different (sometimes very different). So it turns out that what we thought was reliable, was not so reliable after all.

There are all sorts of reasons why this isn't a surprise, least of all to scientists themselves. In part it’s down to current problems in scientific publishing. Constant pressure to be “concise” has led to people skimping on detail.  There’s also a real problem getting confirmatory studies, as opposed to studies showing novel results, published. It is also the case that the number of journals has multiplied over the last few decades and a lot of what is published is poorly designed in the first place, and poorly reviewed (this was alluded to in "The strange case..."). Perhaps a larger part of the problem is explicable because science is done by people. And scientists are morally indistinguishable from the rest of humanity. This means some are good, most are average, some are poor, and some (probably relatively few) are frankly fraudulent. So the information produced by professional science is no more privileged than other sorts of information. It’s necessary and good for some things within a particular domain, but even there it has to be scrutinised and thought about carefully.

All of us should be careful about what and who we put our faith in. If I want my broken leg fixed, I have to confess that I'll have little time for the views of my pastor on the matter. I’ll go to see my doctor (although possibly via my pastor’s wife who’s a GP). But if I want my street lighting improved, the physicist’s understanding of the particle/wave duality of light will not get me very far at all. My local councillor is likely to be a better bet. I'll put my faith in him or her to improve my lot, or at least make it more visible at night. In both cases I might be disappointed with the outcome. But horses for courses; that's a risk I would take. Practical living turns out to be more complex than the average faith vs science argument would have you believe. But who and what you put your faith in is very context dependant. Personally, when the context is eternal salvation, I know in whom I have believed.