From the pages of The Skeptic magazine, this is The Skeptic podcast, bringing you the best of the magazine’s expert analysis of pseudoscience, conspiracy theory and claims of the paranormal since its relaunch as online news source in September 2020.
From athletes to artists, performers across the globe rely on pre-performance rituals to prepare for the moment of truth. Michael Jordan famously wore his old North Carolina college shorts under his Chicago Bulls uniform for every game. Serena Williams is known for her precise pre-serve rituals. These actions may seem quirky or unnecessary to an outsider. However, to the performer, they are invaluable tools for focus, confidence, and emotional regulation.
Pre-performance rituals are deliberate, meaningful actions repeated by individuals to prepare themselves mentally, emotionally, or physically for a high-pressure task. Unlike everyday habits, these rituals carry a sense of purpose. They act as a psychological bridge between preparation and execution.
They can take various forms: physical routines such as specific warm-ups, social gestures like team handshakes, or even spiritual practices like prayer. These rituals help calm anxiety, sharpen focus, or build a sense of unity. Despite their differences, all pre-performance rituals aim to instill a sense of control and readiness. This is meant to empower performers to focus their energy and attention on achieving success.
Singapore’s unique blend of cultures and rituals
Being a busy port city and strategically positioned at the crossroads of global trade routes has nurtured Singapore into a melting pot of cultures. Founded as a British trading post in 1819 by Sir Stamford Raffles, the island quickly attracted immigrants from China, India, the Malay Archipelago, and beyond. These communities brought a wide array of traditions, languages, and practices, each contributing uniquely to Singapore’s identity. Today, the nation stands out for its harmonious cultural blend, where people of different backgrounds live, work, and celebrate together in harmony. This multicultural heritage often finds representation in the rituals and practices of Singapore’s athletes.
Harpreet Singh, a former professional badminton player, explained how he felt his pre-match rituals were rooted in his Sikh heritage. “When I first started, I didn’t consider it a cultural thing – it was just something personal to help centre myself”, he said. “But looking back now, it’s definitely tied to my heritage. It’s like taking part of my community with me when I step onto the court, no matter where I’m playing.”
Before every badminton match, Harpreet recited a shortened version of the Sikh prayer, Ardas. Recited as part of daily spiritual practices or before important activities, it serves as both a personal and collective appeal to God, the Guru, and the wider Sikh community for guidance, blessings, strength, and forgiveness. For Harpreet, the prayer wasn’t about asking for divine help or relying on luck. Instead, it was a way to create a moment of stillness. “It was just an effective way to calm me down – stabilised me a little,” he explained. The rhythmic nature of the prayer anchored him in the present, reducing the anxiety that often accompanies high-stakes competition.
This ritual functioned like mindfulness, allowing him to tune out distractions, focus his thoughts, and mentally prepare for the challenges ahead. Its familiarity reassured him that he was ready, helping him step onto the court with composure and clarity. The prayer also carried cultural and personal significance, connecting him to his roots while giving his actions deeper meaning. For him, this ritual became a steadying force that balanced the mental demands of the game with the emotional weight of competition.
A Singaporean-Inspired “Five Elements Unity”
As the goalkeeper for the Civil Defence Academy Futsal Team, Yuen Ming created his own unique pre-performance ritual, which he calls the “Five Elements Unity”. This practice blends symbolic gestures with team-building exercises, inspired by Singapore’s multicultural heritage and the values represented by the five stars on the national flag. Before each game, Yuen Ming gathers his teammates in a circle near the goalpost. Together, they touch the ground and then raise their hands to the sky, symbolising gratitude for opportunities and their shared commitment to excellence. Each movement is meant to align with one of Singapore’s “five stars” – progress, justice, equality, democracy, and peace – values that unite the team and reflect their role as ambassadors of Singapore’s diversity.
The ritual concludes with a short chant led by Yuen Ming, spoken in three languages: “Together we stand” in English, “Majulah” (onward) in Malay, and “加油/jiā yóu” (add oil or keep going) in Mandarin. This multilingual mantra is intended to honor Singapore’s cultural fabric, and reinforces the strength the team draws from their diverse backgrounds. Once complete, Yuen Ming taps the goalpost three times, reminding himself of his role as the last line of defense, and then he’s ready to play.
While Yuen Ming appreciates the cultural resonance of his ritual, he admits it wasn’t a deliberate choice at the time. “Honestly, I didn’t think much about the cultural significance – it was more about building focus and team spirit”, he reflects. “But looking back, it feels like it ties into what makes Singapore special: our diversity and the way we come together as one.”
Do Rituals Work?
Rituals are far more than comforting routines. Rituals can be psychological tools to help individuals navigate the mental and emotional challenges of high-pressure situations. By reducing stress, sharpening focus, and enhancing confidence, rituals can help create an optimal mindset for performance.
According to a 2021 meta-analysis, rituals can help reduce stress by lowering cortisol, the body’s primary stress hormone. High-pressure situations, such as sports competitions or public performances, can trigger the fight-or-flight response. This can cause a racing heart, rapid breathing, and heightened anxiety. Rituals can help counteract this reaction by introducing predictability and familiarity, which the brain interprets as a signal of safety and control.
Reciting a prayer like the Sikh Ardas or performing a rhythmic action such as bouncing a ball can provide structure and stability. These repeated patterns can help to calm physical symptoms of stress and restore emotional equilibrium.
This calming effect mirrors the benefits of mindfulness or meditation. By focusing on a repetitive action or meaningful phrase, individuals focus on the present moment. This allows them to detach from the uncertainties of their surroundings. The grounding effect allows performers to regain composure, approach their task with clarity, and execute with a calm, collected mindset.
Athletes might recite prayers before a performance. Image via Pexels/Pixabay
Rituals can also serve as a tool to sharpen focus by preparing the brain to transition into a performance-ready state. In high-pressure environments, different distractions can disrupt concentration. Rituals act as a psychological boundary between preparation and execution, signaling to the brain that it’s time to focus.
The repetitive nature of rituals reduces mental clutter and enhances control over where attention is given. For example, a futsal player who taps the goalpost three times before every match or leads their team in a chant creates a rhythm that primes their mind to stay in the moment. When performers reach this high level of concentration, they are better equipped to block out distractions. Making quick decisions and execute their actions with precision becomes much easier.
Harpreet Singh also told me that, for him, one of the most important elements of exceptional performance is confidence. Rituals play a critical role in fostering that confidence. Engaging in a ritual creates a sense of preparedness and, over time, this repetition builds a strong psychological association between the ritual and success, creating a source of reassurance.
The symbolic meaning behind rituals can further boost confidence. For instance, a badminton player’s prayer may serve as a reminder of their discipline, preparation, and values, reinforcing their mental resilience. Similarly, non-religious rituals – like stretching in a specific sequence or performing a signature move – give performers a sense of control and mastery over their situation. These actions become mental anchors, grounding them in their abilities and bolstering self-belief.
Are pre-performance rituals simply superstitions?
While pre-performance rituals are associated with numerous psychological and physiological benefits, some argue they might simply be superstitions – actions grounded in irrational beliefs rather than objective necessity. Superstition involves the belief that specific actions or objects influence outcomes in ways unsupported by science.
Many rituals stem from a coincidental association with a positive outcome. For instance, an athlete might attribute a win to the socks they wore that day and decide to wear them for every game thereafter. Over time, these associations can become ingrained, leading the performer to believe the ritual is essential for success. However, the ritual itself likely has no direct impact on outcomes – it simply becomes a confidence booster rooted in coincidence.
Rituals can be deeply embedded in cultural or social contexts, which can blur the line between meaningful practices and superstition. A culturally significant prayer or chant, for example, might hold symbolic value despite it not directly impacting performance. The ubiquity of rituals across cultures may reflect humanity’s tendency to seek control and meaning in unpredictable situations, even if the sense of control is illusory.
A significant risk of pre-performance rituals is the potential for psychological dependency. Performers who rely heavily on their rituals may feel anxious or unprepared if unable to complete them. For instance, a musician whose pre-concert warm-up is interrupted might believe they are destined to fail, even though their skills remain intact. This dependency suggests that rituals can act as mental crutches, offering reassurance rather than genuine performance enhancement.
Musicians often have pre-performance rituals to get into their on-stage mindset. Image via Pexels/Pixabay
Yuen Ming acknowledges this risk. “There have been matches where I couldn’t do my usual routine because we were rushed, and I felt unsettled. It’s not like I forgot how to play, but I was distracted by the thought that something might go wrong because my ritual wasn’t complete.”
Rituals can sometimes detract from more practical aspects of preparation. Performers who spend excessive time perfecting their rituals might neglect critical tasks such as refining their skills or strategising. In such cases, rituals function more as psychological placebos – offering comfort without directly contributing to performance outcomes.
Rituals are often perpetuated by confirmation bias, where individuals focus on outcomes that support their belief in the ritual while disregarding contradictory evidence. For example, a tennis player might credit their pre-match routine for a win but ignore matches they lost despite following the same ritual. This selective perception reinforces the belief in the ritual’s effectiveness, even when no causal link exists. Harpreet Singh seemed to think so: “There have been matches where I’ve said the prayer, felt good about it, and still didn’t win. It’s not a formula – it’s just something that helps me approach the match better mentally.”
While pre-performance rituals may sometimes resemble superstitions, their psychological effects – such as stress reduction and confidence building – do appear to be real. However, performers must remain mindful of their purpose. Effective rituals should enhance focus and readiness without fostering dependency or detracting from practical preparation. By striking this balance, rituals can serve as tools for empowerment rather than mere habits of superstition.
More than preparation, pre-performance rituals are transformative: they turn nerves into energy and focus into action. They anchor performers in the present moment – connecting them to their heritage, their team, or the fire within. From the steady rhythm of a Sikh prayer to the multicultural unity in a futsal chant, these rituals embody the fusion of personal meaning and collective strength, particularly within Singapore’s rich cultural tapestry.
Skeptics may view rituals as mere superstition, but their power lies not in proving causality but in creating readiness. They serve as bridges – from chaos to clarity, from uncertainty to confidence. On every stage, court, or field, rituals empower performers to face unpredictability with poise and resolve. It’s in these moments, where preparation meets belief, that performers achieve something beyond success, carrying the echoes of their rituals into all they do.
The 21st of March, 2024 was a significant day in my life for a couple of reasons. Firstly, it was the day I held the book-launch event for my long-delayed book, The Science of Weird Shit, published two days earlier by MIT Press (the paperback edition will be published on 1 April 2025 – thank you for asking). I marked this momentous occasion by giving a talk at Goldsmiths, University of London, from whence I had retired in 2020 having worked there for 35 years. This was followed by, although I say so myself, one hell of a party. A thoroughly good time was had by all.
The second reason that this was a significant day in my life, if not in anybody else’s, was that it was the official final day of operation for the Anomalistic Psychology Research Unit (APRU). Although this momentous event went unreported by the media, I felt that now, one year on, it would be appropriate to present a brief history of the Unit. So here it is.
The Unit was founded in the year 2000 as I was approaching the end of my 3-year stint as Head of the Psychology Department at Goldsmiths. Goldsmiths operated what was referred to as a “rotating head” system. This meant that anyone at the level of senior lecturer and above could potentially end up acting as head of department for 3 years (although I confess that the term always made me think of that memorable scene from The Exorcist). There was very little time to carry out much research when serving as HoD and, in recognition of this, Goldsmiths provided those in the role with a research assistant. My research assistant was Kate Holden and, between us, we came up with the idea of founding the APRU. The basic idea was that this would provide a focus for research activity in the area and encourage collaborative research both nationally and internationally.
Now, I’m not sure what image that title, “the Anomalistic Psychology Research Unit”, conjures up in your mind but I suspect that for many people with little direct experience of academia it may be a somewhat misleading one. Maybe you pictured a modern building with a big sign outside proudly proclaiming this dedicated unit? Maybe, in your mind’s eye, there are dozens of white-coated scientists inside, some hurrying around carrying clipboards and others chewing on pencils as they contemplate the results of their latest experiments displayed on their computer screens? Maybe others are using high-tech brain-scanners to probe the inner workings of psychics’ brains?
If so, I’m sorry to disappoint you. The truth is that the APRU never had any dedicated research space of any kind. There was never more than a dozen or so active members of the unit at any one time. Membership would consist of myself, my postgrads, project students, any research assistants I happened to have, colleagues (both from Goldsmiths and beyond) who wished to collaborate on specific projects, and volunteers.
Despite that, I think it’s fair to say that the APRU punched above its weight over the years, particularly in terms of media coverage. The reason is, of course, that the media love stories related to the paranormal which results in the general public getting the impression that there is much more research on such topics taking place within universities than there actually is. In fact, there are only a handful of universities around the world actively carrying out research in the areas of anomalistic psychology and parapsychology.
When journalists and other interested parties would sometimes request a tour of the APRU, I sensed they were often a little disappointed to learn that we did not have a suite of dedicated research labs. The truth is that it would have been entirely inappropriate for us to have such dedicated space. The methodologies used in our studies varied enormously from study to study, as described in The Science of Weird Shit. Some studies were carried out in small research cubicles, often collecting response data using small desktop computers. Others required the use of more elaborate set-ups, involving, say, observations through one-way mirrors. Sometimes data were collected via the administration of questionnaires to members of the general public going about their daily business.
In recent years, a lot of our research was carried out without having to leave one’s office at all thanks to the internet. When it comes to testing psychics, any test had to be designed around the specific claim that was being made which could involve some very elaborate set-ups. Given the wide variety of methodologies employed in our research, it made much more sense for us to make use of the general resources available within the Psychology Department at Goldsmiths as and when we needed them rather than to acquire dedicated research labs that would stand idle for much of the time.
So what did the APRU actually achieve over the 24 years of its existence? Rather a lot, as it happens. One of the explicit aims of the APRU was to “raise the academic profile” of anomalistic psychology – or, to put it another way, to make anomalistic psychology more academically respectable. In the early days of my interest in this area, back in the 1980s and ‘90s, it was made pretty clear to me by a previous head of department that my dabbling in anomalistic psychology would be tolerated but not actually encouraged – provided that I also carried out research and published in more conventional areas of psychology. I meekly complied, publishing papers on such topics as automated assessment and the relationship between cognition and emotion alongside my output on anomalistic psychology topics. Eventually, I took the plunge and made the decision to concentrate my research efforts solely upon topics within anomalistic psychology, concentrating mainly upon sleep paralysis, false memories, and belief in conspiracy theories.
In order to raise the academic respectability of anomalistic psychology, we published mainly in mainstream psychology journals as opposed to parapsychology journals. We did this because we were aware that the mainstream science media tend to completely ignore parapsychology journals (wrongly in our opinion). Since 2000, the APRU has published almost 40 papers on anomalistic topics in peer-reviewed journals (this total includes numerous papers by Dr Paul Rogers, an honorary member of the APRU), not to mention 39 chapters in edited volumes and innumerable articles elsewhere (including the Guardian and, of course, The Skeptic– which, from 2001 to 2011, we edited). Oh, and there were two co-authoredbooks, one sole-authored book, and a co-edited volume (the latter being a collection of some of the best articles published in The Skeptic magazine).
We also organised numerous conferences, often in association with other groups such as Sense About Science, the Centre for Inquiry UK, the Association for the Scientific Study of Anomalous Phenomena, and the Association for Skeptical Enquiry (including the European Skeptics Congress, held at Goldsmiths in 2015). In terms of conference and other presentations, we made well over 500 appearances from 2000 onwards. These ranged from invited keynote presentations at national and international conferences, through talks at various universities, to talks at local Skeptics in the Pub groups and in local schools – and even two national theatre tours in association with the BBC’s Uncanny series.
Overall, I think that’s a pretty reasonable level of output for a largely unfunded research unit. Although details of the Unit still appear on Goldsmiths website, its last official day of operation was, as stated at the beginning of this article, 21 March 2024. Speaking for myself, I intend to carry on researching, writing, and giving talks for a good few years to come. I just won’t have to feel guilty about never finding the time to update the APRU’s website.
This article originally appeared in The Skeptic, Volume 5, Issue 2, from 1991.
In 1895, Wilhelm Conrad Röntgen discovered X-rays, and shortly afterwards gamma rays and alpha and beta particles were first detected. These discoveries made researchers more willing to accept the existence of new forms of radiation. Without this openness the strange affair of N-rays might never have started.
One of the scientists conducting research into the properties of the newly discovered X-rays was Professor Rene Blondlot (1849-1930), head of the Department of Physics at Nancy University and a member of the French Academy of Sciences. He was a distinguished scientist and an expert in the physics of electromagnetic radiation. His research into whether X-rays were waves or particles (they are now known to be both), by seeing what effect polarised X-rays had on the intensity of a spark, indicated through the increased brightness of the spark that they were waves. But further tests showed that the radiation he was using on the spark could not be X-rays. He concluded that the cause of the visible change in spark brightness must be a new form of radiation which he was later to call N-rays, after the University of Nancy.
It was from this mistaken conclusion that the N-ray affair began. Blondlot next devised a series of increasingly sensitive experiments and devices for the detection of N-rays. The best of these involved phosphors, substances which emit light when struck by radiation. In early 1903, after he had investigated some of their properties, he published details of his discovery of N-rays. Soon experiments to detect N-rays were being performed by scientists all over the world.
While most researchers failed to detect N-rays at all, teams in France were discovering many unusual properties of the rays. Some substances opaque to visible light such as wood, paper and aluminium were found to be transparent to N-rays, and Blondlot even used aluminium prisms in his research. In contrast, water was found to be opaque to N-rays. The professor of medical physics at Nancy, Augustin Charpentier, discovered that N-rays were emitted by both living and dead bodies, and if shone on the eyes they improved a person’s ability to see in the dark. During 1904 an increasing number of scientific papers were published on N-rays and their properties.
Outside France, many leading physicists were unable to detect N-rays using Blondlot’s experiments. Some of these physicists met at the year’s meeting of the British Association for the Advancement of Science and decided that one of them should visit Blondlot’s lab in Nancy. The physicist chosen was Robert W Wood (1868-1955), Professor of physics at Johns Hopkins University in the US and an expert in optics and spectroscopy. He was also the author of the humorous book How to Tell the Birds from the Flowers, and had in the past combated fraud by revealing that some spiritualists were fakes.
It was in September 1904 that Wood visited Blondlot’s laboratory. During his three-hour visit he was shown several experiments displaying various properties of N-rays, and he later described what happened in a letter to Nature (29 September, 1904). The first experiment involved the effect of N-rays on the brightness of a spark. Wood saw no difference between when the N-rays were concentrated on it and when his hand stopped them. He was told it was because his eyes were not sensitive enough.
Wood then asked the others to watch the screen upon which the light of the spark fell, and to say the exact moment when he blocked the rays. Not once were they able to correctly answer, despite having claimed that the change was distinctly noticeable. Next, Wood was shown photographic evidence of N-rays which clearly showed a difference in spark brightness. Wood saw that not only did the variability in spark brightness make accurate work impossible, but the manual control of the multiple photographic exposures was also a source of error. Knowing which photos were supposed to show N-rays, the operator could, in each exposure, unconsciously keep those photos exposed for a fraction of a second longer. At this point Wood still remained unconvinced. It was what occurred in the following experiments which convinced him N-rays did not exist
In a darkened room, Blondlot demonstrated how, with the use of an aluminium prism, a beam of N-rays could be separated into four beams of different wavelengths. These four beams were detected by moving a piece of cardboard with a phosphorescent strip painted down the middle along a curved steel support. Wood tried moving the detecting device along the curve but noticed no change in its brightness. While Blondlot prepared to take some measurements, Wood took advantage of the darkness to secretly remove the prism. Blondlot then took the measurements, getting the same values he normally got. Wood replaced the prism before the lights were turned back on. Next, Wood asked if he could move the prism so that Blondlot and colleagues could decide by the use of the detector if it was refracting the N-rays to the the left or the right. Three attempts were made but they were not correct, even once. They claimed that their failure was due to fatigue.
Finally, Blondlot showed Wood some experiments which showed how N-rays improved eyesight. He was taken into a room which was dimly lit so that the hands of a clock on the wall could not be seen. When an N-ray emitter (a steel file) was held close to a subject’s eyes, the subject claimed to be able to distinctly see the hands of the clock. After trying and failing to see any difference, Wood suggested a test. He chose when to move the file near the subject. Realising that the room was light enough for the subject to see when the file was being moved he secretly replaced it with a wooden ruler of the same size and shape which lay on one of the desks in the room. Despite the fact that wood was one of the substances unable to emit N-rays, the experiment was still a success.
Wood left Blondlot’s lab convinced N-rays did not exist, and that much of the evidence was purely imaginary. In his letter to Nature he described his visit and conclusions. This explained why so many top scientists had been unable to detect N-rays, simply because they did not exist, and it destroyed most of the support for N-rays outside of France.
Blondlot responded to Wood’s letter by increasing the accuracy of his experiments, but he still claimed to obtain successful results. During 1905, he and his supporters began to claim “it was the sensitivity of the observer rather than the validity of the phenomena that was called into question by criticisms like Wood’s.” Similar claims have been made in more recent times in paranormal research.
By this time in France, N-rays were also losing support because physicists had unsuccessfully tried to detect them using experiments like those suggested in Wood’s letter. In 1905, a French science journal published details of an experiment which would definitely show whether or not N-rays existed. Blondlot did not reply until 1906, when he refused to participate in such “a simplistic experiment … let each one form his own opinion about N-rays” he said.
Spring has sprung, marking the end of the cold and flu season. Winter isn’t just cold, wet, and dangerous, it also encourages the spread of colds, flu, and Covid. As more people gather indoors, airborne viruses find the perfect conditions to thrive.
Naturally, this surge in illness leads to renewed interest in how to treat a cold effectively, but despite advances in many fields of medical care over recent centuries, the common cold remains stubbornly incurable. Instead of a definitive cure, we’re left managing symptoms to ease discomfort.
BBC Future is part of the BBC’s international online service, covering science, technology, environment, and health. They position themselves as a source of truth, facts, and science – an approach I fully support. So, what do they have to say about the evidence behind home remedies?
Immune supplements
The article begins by noting that many home remedies focus on the idea of boosting the immune system, also noting that for otherwise healthy individuals, immune function is only impaired when there’s a deficiency in essential vitamins or minerals. If your diet is already well balanced, supplements offer little benefit. It’s a valid point – despite the claims of supplement pedlars, supplements won’t supercharge an already healthy immune system. It then goes on to discuss a specific piece of research on this, a pilot study published in PLoS One in 2020.
The study involved 259 participants who were randomly assigned to receive either a supplement (containing vitamins A, D, C, E, B6, B12, folic acid, zinc, selenium, copper, and iron) or a placebo. Over 12 weeks, participants completed weekly surveys tracking any cold symptoms. The results indicated fewer runny noses and fewer coughs among those taking supplements, concluding that this low-cost intervention merits further investigation.
Given the context already discussed (supplements aren’t expected to benefit otherwise healthy individuals without a vitamin or mineral deficiency) one assumes that some fraction of the cohort was mildly deficient in some nutrients, so the supplements here brought their immune function back up to par, reducing the incidence of colds. It’s an interesting finding, but there are a few issues.
The study had a high drop-out rate, with nearly 50% of participants failing to complete the weekly surveys. More concerningly, it did not account for multiple comparisons – a crucial flaw in scientific research.
Studies commonly use p-values to assess whether results are statistically meaningful or just due to chance. The typical threshold is p<0.05, meaning there’s only a 5% chance of observing results like these (or better) if there’s no real effect. However, when multiple outcomes are tested, the likelihood of finding at least one significant result by chance increases. It’s like playing dice: the probability of rolling a six on one attempt is low, but if you roll 20 times, the odds of getting at least one six rise to 97%.
Many studies fail to properly adjust for this, and this pilot study is no exception. The reported improvements for runny noses (p=0.01) and coughs (p=0.04) only hold for a single comparison, but the study also examined the incidence, duration, and severity of headaches, sore throats, congestion, aches, and fever. With so many comparisons, the probability of finding a significant result purely by chance increases dramatically. Just as you can’t roll 20 dice, pick up a six and demand an extra turn, you can’t do 20 comparisons in your study and then talk about how there is only a 1% chance of getting these findings if the supplement does nothing.
While there are a handful of significant effects here, they may well just be noise in the data given the number of comparisons made, and a simple statistical correction for the multiple comparisons eliminates these findings entirely.
To their credit, the authors of the paper acknowledge that the results are not conclusive, calling for more rigorous research. However, these larger, more robust trials have yet to be conducted. Given this, one could argue that it’s premature for BBC Future to reference this paper in an article on the effectiveness of supplements.
Garlic
Next their attention turns to garlic, referencing a 2001 study in which 146 volunteers took either a garlic supplement or a placebo for 12 weeks. The results were striking: the garlic group reported significantly fewer colds; just 24 cases compared to 65 in the placebo group. Cold duration was also notably shorter, averaging just over one day in the garlic group vs five days in the placebo group. The paper even goes so far as to claim that ‘the supplement studied may represent a cure for the common cold.’
These results are so extreme as to be absurd. Are we really expected to believe that participants taking garlic experienced colds lasting only one and a half days? If garlic genuinely cured colds, wouldn’t we have recognised its effects long before 2001? After all, people were chewing willow bark for pain relief for thousands of years before salicin was refined into aspirin. And if we really had discovered that garlic was the cure for the common cold in 2001, where are the Nobel Prizes? Why are we all still getting colds, a quarter of a century later?
Beyond the implausibility of its results, the study also had serious design flaws. The placebo was not taste-matched to the supplement, meaning participants could likely tell which group they were in. This introduces a major source of bias. Another red flag is the author’s claim that garlic ‘may represent a cure’ for colds, since this study wasn’t designed to test garlic as a cure but rather as a preventative, a fundamental difference.
Perhaps the most immediate explanation for these extreme findings lies in the study’s authorship. The lead researcher is the owner of The Garlic Centre, a business that sells garlic supplements – a clear conflict of interest. A 2014 Cochrane review found no reliable support for garlic’s effectiveness against colds, and characterised this paper as ‘poor quality.’ Yet, BBC Future chose to highlight this flawed study as evidence.
However, they fail to mention that this second analysis also found no positive effect for vitamin C. While it does conclude that vitamin C is generally safe, it does not support the claim that it reduces the duration or severity of colds – an omission that I would argue misrepresents the evidence.
The pattern repeats with zinc. BBC Future cites one review which suggests that zinc shortens the duration of runny and blocked noses while also reducing coughing and sneezing. However, a second paper they reference found no such benefit. In fact, some measures in this second paper showed participants in the placebo group do better than those taking zinc, suggesting that in some cases zinc may even be counterproductive. In fairness, this time BBC Future does point this out in their coverage.
Also to their credit, they highlight a key limitation in this type of research: studies rarely, if ever, test whether participants are deficient in vitamin C or zinc before supplementation begins. Any observed benefit could simply be due to correcting an undiagnosed deficiency rather than proving that these supplements provide a meaningful advantage for already healthy individuals. So fair play to BBC Future for recognising that nuance.
What really bothers me is that nearly all the papers on zinc and vitamin C cited by BBC Future come from the same author. Harri Hemilä, a professor at the University of Helsinki, appears to be a strong advocate for vitamin C megadosing and zinc supplementation. Nearly all of his recent publications focus on the supposed benefits of these supplements – not just for colds, but also for Covid, pneumonia, cardiovascular disease, sepsis, asthma, and more.
When he’s not promoting vitamin C and zinc, he’s criticising studies that fail to find positive results. He even authored a paper accusing mainstream medicine of bias against vitamin C, insisting that the evidence in its favour is unambiguously positive but unfairly dismissed. Given this, relying so heavily on his work without acknowledging his fringe stance on the subject is a significant oversight from BBC Future.
Skeptics often criticise false balance in journalism, where fringe and mainstream science are presented as if they hold equal weight. But here, we see almost the opposite problem. Even if we accept that there is some scientific debate about the efficacy of vitamin C megadosing, BBC Future leans overwhelmingly on data from a single researcher – one who openly acknowledges that mainstream science does not support megadosing as an effective intervention.
With respect to the common cold, BBC Future cites a 2011 study in which 719 participants who had only just caught a cold were randomly assigned to one of four groups. The first group received echinacea, a popular remedy claimed to help with colds, and knew that’s what it was. The second group also received echinacea, but they were not told it was echinacea, making this a blinded echinacea group. The third group received a placebo but believed they were taking echinacea. The final group received no treatment at all.
The primary outcome measures in the study were illness duration and illness severity. Duration was assessed by asking participants if they believe they still have a cold. The number of days they answered ‘yes’ determined the total duration. Illness severity was measured using a standardised questionnaire – a self-reported and subjective assessment completed by the participants twice a day.
Beyond these, the study collected a range of other data points, including stress levels, general health, and an open-ended question allowing participants to report side effects such as diarrhoea, headaches, nausea, rash, and upset stomach. There were also two objective measures: interleukin-8 concentration, which indicates immune response, and neutrophil counts, which reflect inflammation levels. Finally, researchers asked participants whether they believed echinacea works or not.
For readers who may be unfamiliar, echinacea is a popular alternative remedy derived from a type of daisy. While it has been used for centuries to treat colds, there is no good evidence to support its effectiveness in any medical context. However, it is known to interact dangerously with some medications, making its use potentially risky.
BBC Future reported this study as showing a placebo effect, where participants who believed in echinacea experienced shorter and milder colds than those who did not. They further note that this pattern held regardless of whether participants had actually taken any echinacea at all.
However, these findings rely entirely on self-reported data, where patient bias can easily influence results. People who believe they have received an effective treatment are more likely to report an improvement, even if no real improvement has occurred. This is a well-documented issue with subjective measures in clinical research and often overlooked in placebo effect research.
When looking at the objective data – the inflammation and immune response markers – there was no effect at all, either from echinacea itself or from belief in echinacea. Even the subjective findings disappear once a statistical adjustment is made for the large number of comparisons in the study, further undermining the claim that belief in echinacea had any measurable impact.
Nevertheless, BBC Future goes on to cite a second study in support of the first. This second paper, published in 2010, shows that patients who are unaware if they are getting echinacea do not report improved cold symptoms. This may appear to reinforce the placebo effect narrative: participants in the first study who believed in echinacea reported shorter and less severe colds, but those in the second study, who lacked that belief, did not report the same.
However, upon reading this second paper, I experienced a strong sense of déjà vu. It involved 719 participants who had only just caught a cold being randomly assigned to one of four groups – echinacea, blinded echinacea, placebo, and no treatment. It also shared almost all the same authors as the first study.
Because it turns out that this paper is actually the same dataset. The same patients, documenting the same colds – just published in a different journal eight months earlier. In this earlier version, they found no effect. This earlier paper concluded that illness duration and severity were not significantly affected by echinacea compared to the control groups.
Dissatisfied with these findings, the authors appear to have revisited the raw data and conducted subgroup analyses based on whether participants believed in echinacea. They then published these results in a different journal, presenting them as a separate study all about the placebo effect. Notably, the question about belief in echinacea does not get mentioned in the earlier paper, nor is it mentioned in the trial registration.
On the face of it, this appears to be a case of p-hacking, where researchers manipulate data analysis to produce statistically significant results. This is often done by testing multiple hypotheses, selectively reporting favourable results, or adjusting statistical methods until a desired finding emerges. While usually done with the best of intentions, p-hacking undermines the reliability of scientific research by increasing the likelihood of false positives.
Trial registration is a tool which is designed to combat this, keeping researchers honest about what questions they will ask, and what analyses they will perform. In this case, however, it appears to have fallen down; the second paper with the modified analysis simply does not mention that the registration exists.
BBC Future appears to be a genuine effort to present good science, but in this case, it fell short. Rather than offering a careful, critical analysis, the article relied on flawed studies, overlooked biases, and misrepresented key concepts.
Science journalism should do more than just report findings – it should question them. A more skeptical approach would have provided a clearer, more accurate picture of the evidence. Perhaps next time, BBC Future will live up to its stated mission and truly delve deeper.
From the pages of The Skeptic magazine, this is The Skeptic podcast, bringing you the best of the magazine’s expert analysis of pseudoscience, conspiracy theory and claims of the paranormal since its relaunch as online news source in September 2020.
There is only one certainty in life: everyone will die, from the poorest to the richest. Death is a certainty of life to humans, and we can’t defeat it… or can we?
With so much time and energy spent trying to develop technological equivalents of the fountain of youth, how close are we to arresting the march of time to cheat death or even significantly extend life?
Telomeres
Perhaps the most complicated category of life-extension technology aims to address telomeres – the DNA ‘caps’ that stop our chromosomes from separating or sticking to each other. Think of them as protectors, like the plastic tips at the ends of shoelaces.
Telomeres get shorter every time a cell divides, although telomerase stops this shortening for cells that divide a lot. This shortening is claimed to be associated with ageing; if so, logically, it is argued by some that if we could stop the from shortening or make telomerase active for all cells, we could have immortal cells. Preventing the shortening might not be impossible – we already have cells with effectively infinite telomeres: cancer cells. Many cancer cells can infinitely replicate, thanks to their telomeres.
However, despite what some theories claim, we don’t yet know the full effects of telomeres in ageing. Cellular ageing involves many factors, so it’s hard to know causality with certainty – we might find that we can arrest telomere shortening, which may not reduce cellular ageing. Even if we could make telomeres eternal, we might improve life expectancy, but we could still be just as far from the desired outcome of an immortal lifespan.
Stem cells
Another technology put forth as a potential cure for ageing involves harnessing stem cells, which are versatile cells capable of becoming other cell types, with the ability to repair and renew themselves. Stem cells are more present in the foetus/infant stages, as they are key to human development. They have a vast potential for research and improving the lives of humans, but the key words here are ‘improving’ and ‘extending’ life; they are not a miracle cure.
Imagine for a moment that we could use stem cells to regenerate all body parts (which, currently, we can’t). If you develop a liver problem, you could use stem cells to restore your liver to its youthful state. But what about the brain? Would we inject something into our brain that would slowly make all the old parts new again? The neuron activations and interactions in our lives form our memories and our personality; start to renew the cells, and you risk losing those features. Would you still be you if all your neurons were replaced with fresh new ones?
Digital representation of nerve cells connecting, via wallpaperflare.com
Utilization of fasting diets to alter mood continue to have poorly understood effects and treatment options. Currently, it is not fully understood which fasting option provides the most beneficial effects on groups and even less on individuals nor are there consistent trials assessing the effects of fasting diets in a comparable manner.
Few short and long-term studies work within an isocaloric/isonitrogenous framework making it more difficult to assess the effectiveness of various fasting regimes. Similarly, baseline assessments and comparable populations are limited in many dietetic studies.
Time-restricted feeding studies suggest this may be case, although caution is warranted in applying these results to humans. In mice, once-per-day CR feeding performed early in the dark cycle or early in the light cycle has equivalent effects on lifespan.
I suggest caution and avoiding fad diets or supposed miraculous solutions; we know that some people find benefit in fasting diets, but they aren’t a silver bullet for all health problems.
In conclusion
There are lots of theories around tech that could extend life, using diet, stem cells, and tech designed to target how our cells age. A lot of it is speculative, and where evidence exists, it’s in its infancy. Importantly, none of this would actually reverse ageing; at most, it could only slow ageing, and allow for longer lifespans.
Joseph Mercola – a leading figure in the anti-vax movement and one of the wealthiest and most prolific alternative medicine proponents in the world – derived some of his health advice via a ‘channelled’ spirit named Bahlon, according to new footage released by the Office for Science and Society at McGill University.
In the video, Mercola is seen during multiple extensive business consultations with Bahlon via the help of ‘psychic’ channeller named Kai Clay – otherwise known as Christopher W. Johnson, former CEO of the branding company Whitehorn Group.
During the channelling sessions – videos of which Mercola shared to other staff members within his organisation – Mercola claims to use knowledge from Bahlon, alongside insights generated by ChatGPT, to derive some of his health advice. Mercola also claims in the sessions to be regularly self-administering carbon dioxide enemas, claiming they feed his microbiome and create a forcefield to protect him from the alleged dangers of electromagnetic frequencies like 5G. Bizarrely, he attests to giving similar CO2 treatments to his pet dog, to whom he alleges he has fed samples of Mercola’s own blood.
Kai Clay, aka Christopher W. Johnson, closes his eyes in a trance as he channels the spirit of Bahlon
The exposé also reveals worrying plans to recruit “millions” of members of the public to “march with weapons” on veterinarians – a call to arms that is especially concerning given that Mercola flaunts a Glock 45 handgun during the sessions, kept in a drawer in his home office.
After reviewing 50 hours of leaked footage – dubbed “The Mercola Tapes” – Jonathan Jarry, science communicator at the OSS, has released extensive excerpts as part of a new documentary on Joseph Mercola and his ideas. The video shows Mercola’s claims that the Catholic Church forms the heart of “the Global Cabal”, in apparent support of claims made during an ongoing religious discrimination lawsuit brought by former Mercola Chief Business Officer Ryan Boland and former Chief Editor Janet Selvig (Mercola’s sister), who allege they were fired because of their strong commitments to the Catholic church. The suit specifically highlights the role of Christopher Johnson and his claims to channel “a high-vibration multidimensional entity from the causal plane” called Bahlon.
Mercola, whose website receives 10 million visitors per day and whose wellness empire is revealed in the video to be worth more than $300 million, was named in 2021 part of the “Disinformation Dozen” – a small group of major health misinformation promoters – and has a number of ties to Robert F. Kennedy Jr. In 2023, Mercola hosted a town hall in Cape Coral, Florida, as part of RFK Jr’s presidential run, before Kennedy’s appointment as head of Donald Trump’s Department of Health and Human Services.
In the Tapes, Mercola shares his fear that he could be involuntarily committed for appearing delusional: “I’m already whacked out. I’m an anti-vaxxer. Now I’m doing the spiritual stuff. My behaviour suggests I’m a nutcase!” He believes he will earn more Nobel Prizes than anyone before him and that he will destroy the insurance industry and bring about a “Mercola bank system.”
“The people who made Dr. Joe Mercola rich need to know where he gets his health information these days: from ChatGPT and from a branding expert who closes his eyes and pretends to be channelling an entity,” says Jarry. “In my opinion, the grandiosity and paranoia I see in the Mercola Tapes should serve as a case study in what can happen when you reject mainstream scientific knowledge and crave any sort of alternative, no matter how divorced from reality it is.”
