Home Blog Page 88

Christmas as we know it is appropriated, co-opted, bastardised… and thoroughly magical

If you are looking for it, Christmas can certainly provide plenty of opportunities to be skeptical. Be it rampant consumerism, insistence that this is a ‘jolly’ time of year for everyone, or even the understanding that there are some dangerous psychopaths out there who wait until after the Queen’s speech to open their presents.

Arguments could be made that not a single piece of festive tradition hasn’t been appropriated, co-opted, bastardised or straight up stolen from a bunch of pagan beliefs. Christmas as we know it is a mishmash of religious land grabs and crafty politics.

Arguments could be made that not a single piece of festive tradition hasn’t been appropriated, co-opted, bastardised or straight up stolen from a bunch of pagan beliefs. Christmas as we know it is a mishmash of religious land grabs and crafty politics.

Take good old Saint Nick. You may have heard the myth that Coca Cola turned his suit red, or you might know about the various problematic sidekicks he has in other parts of the world (yes Zwarte Piet, I’m talking to you). What you might not know is that the historical basis for the North Pole’s most famous resident is a 3rd/4th century bishop from modern day Turkey.

Saint Nicholas of Myra (for it is he) is a busy boy. Apart from inspiring the judgemental global delivery man with an unregulated surveillance system that we know and love, he also has a tidy side-line in patron sainting. Among those under his charge are children (on brand), archers (a bit left field) and repentant thieves (convenient for someone who breaks into homes on the regular).

As with many saints he’s also got a few miracles under his belt as well, including the delightful tale of resurrecting three children who had been murdered by a butcher and were about to be offered out as ‘pork’ (why this wasn’t dropped into ‘Miracle on 34th Street’ I will never know). However, this is where things get a little murky.

Not much is know of the verifiable historical biography of St Nick, but it has been pointed out that some of the stories attached to his name bare striking similarities to those told about Apollonius of Tyana, a first century Greek philosopher and contemporary of the birthday boy Jesus Henry Christ.

It isn’t unusual for this sort of reincorporation of pagan stories to be seen in early Christianity, in fact parallels can even be drawn between Apollonius and the story of Jesus’s life. As the cult of Christianity was developing, it was vying for followers with many other emerging beliefs. For example, the cult of Mithras was also popular at the time and could be seen as a direct rival to the early Christians.

Mithra sacrificing the bill (100-200 BCE), from the Borghése collection bought in 1807 by the Louvre.

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Mithra_sacrifiant_le_Taureau-005.JPG
Mithra sacrificing the bill (100-200 BCE), from the Borghése collection bought in 1807 by the Louvre.

While no one knows exactly what they believed, the surviving iconography would not look out of place on any half decent heavy metal album cover. Slaying bulls, being born out of a rock, lion headed people! It’s a shame that Christianity won out and suppressed the worship of Mithras in the 4th century, at the very least the Sistine Chapel would’ve looked absolutely kickass!

With the context of these competing cults the fact that Christmas is even celebrated on December 25th could be seen as nought but a savvy bit of marketing.

One of the most popular festivals of the Roman empire was the Saturnalia, honouring the god Saturn. As a time of feasting (tick), gift giving (tick), candle lighting (tick) and the occasional morale standard being lowered (tick, tick, tick!) – there are clear influences on the Christian celebration.

It should also come as no surprise that this festival landed in the bleakest part of winter, towards the back end of December. It’s almost like humans are predisposed to having a knees-up when they are trying to ignore how cold and wet it is outside. By celebrating Christmas at the same time of year the early Christians may have been hoping to win over new followers through the positive associations with a market leader in good time paganism.

One of the most interesting elements of the Saturnalia was the tradition of slaves being given licences to do and say what they wanted during the festivities as well as having table service provided to them by their masters. I am convinced that this is the basis for the modern office Christmas party.

One of the most interesting elements of the Saturnalia was the tradition of slaves being given licences to do and say what they wanted during the festivities as well as having table service provided to them by their masters. While there is no research that backs me up on this, I am convinced that this is the basis for the modern office Christmas party. I can’t get beyond the idea of an inebriated Gaulish warrior pigeon-holing a Roman Senator for an hour, ranting about tech issues with the latest abacus before spinning off towards the dance floor because ‘this lyre tune is my jam!’.

Like I said, if you were so inclined, there is a lot to be skeptical about when it comes to Christmas… but, personally, this year I won’t be looking. Not now I’ve walked down darkened streets, past hedges and houses covered in lights.

I’ve wandered by these gaudy oases so many times that they barely register. The same was true this year when I saw the first decorations of the season, in this case a bush covered in multicoloured LEDs. I made an internal note that I’d need to start thinking about buying presents and went to carry on walking.

But this year there is one significant difference in how this scene played out and it took the form of my one-year-old who happened to be sat on my shoulders at the time. There is nothing quite like the sudden and excited head slapping of a toddler to stop you dead in your tracks.

I took him down to see what the matter was and my partner and I were greeted with a face that can only be described as ‘Oh I’m sorry guys, are we just going to pretend that this is normal now? The plant is FLASHING COLOURS AT ME!’

That moment and the five minutes that followed where we pointed out all of the colours we could see (a little too loudly apparently as the owner of the house came out to check we weren’t unrepentant thieves or archers) made Christmas and all its nonsense untouchable.

For our kid there will be sooty footprints on the carpet on Christmas morning, Rudolph will munch the carrot he leaves out, a jolly fat man from the North Pole will creep into his room and that will be FINE and above all else for a few weeks of the year the bushes of London will sprout lights.

I’ll tell him the other stuff one day, but right now, all the magic is real.

Merry Christmas everyone

Are you skeptical about free will? Prove it!

0

Free will persists as a philosophical problem that frequently spills over into public discourse. While it often serves as a punchline, the mainstreaming of pop psychology and systemic analysis has raised genuine doubts in many that they are truly in control of their own actions. That debate has largely focused on the possibility of free will in a deterministic universe, and the implications that has for what we make of our lives.

Personally, I’ve argued that free will is impossible, because everything in the universe comes down to luck – nothing that happens is under our control in the kind of robust way needed to support our natural intuitions about moral responsibility. Rather than rehash those arguments, however, I want to talk about two related questions that continue to vex me:

  1. Can I (or anyone) genuinely internalise the belief that I don’t have free will?
  2. Can I prove to myself and others that I have genuinely internalised the ‘no free will’ view?

Let’s start with question one. What does it mean to fully internalise a belief like “I lack free will”, rather than simply paying lip service to that belief? Thomas Nagel, to whom I owe the vast majority of my limited understanding on these issues, explains it in terms of the subjective point of view versus the objective point of view. The subjective point of view is the one we experience every day, where folks generally report a sense of control over their actions; the objective point of view, sometimes called the view from nowhere, is the one that we sometimes try to get ourselves into when we engage in a range of projects like moral or scientific analysis. From the objective point of view, our behaviour is just more effects in the endless chains of cause and effect stretching back to whatever cosmologists decide is the beginning of the universe.

Nagel is skeptical that we can ever fully replace the subjective point of view with the objective point of view when it comes to free will, even as we become more and more intellectually convinced by the evidence that the objective point of view gives a sufficient account of our behaviour. He argues that our psychology will always require seeing ourselves and some others as more than simply “portions of the world”.

While I fully endorse Nagel’s philosophical argument against free will, I part ways with him on the psychological necessity of belief in free will. I believe Nagel prematurely forecloses the possibility that we could truly do away with our subjective experience of ourselves as free agents and replace it fully with the objective perspective that we’re radically interconnected to a deterministic universe. He presents no evidence that this is impossible.

In contrast, strains of Daoism and Buddhism, which agree that free will is an illusion and advocate for internalising the objective perspective, present a variety of practices for dismantling the subjective perspective and cultivating the objective perspective in its place. Of course, Nagel can deny that any of these practices are psychologically successful, but that is an empirical claim in need of evidence.

Let me turn then to question two and the problem of evidence. What evidence could support the claim that I have successfully internalised the objective perspective and no longer experience myself as having free will? That might seem like a silly question; shouldn’t I just be able to introspect and see if belief in free will is amongst the set of beliefs I hold? How is it any different from internalizing the belief that 2+2=4?

The reason it’s different is that introspection is fallible, and it’s more fallible for some kinds of beliefs and experiences than others. If introspection were infallible, we’d have to accept the “sensation” of acting freely as sufficient to prove we have free will. If we’re going to try to deny that free will exists, we’re going to have to acknowledge we could be wrong about a lot of what is going on inside our own minds.

In case of free will, the burden of proof is fairly high, given the claim amounts to a pretty fundamental rewriting of perspective. Given the low stakes and general consensus (Twitter wars notwithstanding) I can reasonably infer that my experience of believing 2+2=4 tracks my actual beliefs on the subject. The same cannot be said for such a hotly contested and counterintuitive claim as the rejection of my own free will. If someone claimed to achieve enlightenment, you’d want substantial evidence, and fully internalising the objective perspective about free will shares several qualities with various accounts of enlightenment, such as increased non-attachment and equanimity.

A statue of a man deep in thought

I’ll be honest up front, when it comes to trying to prove that I no longer believe in my own free will, the options would be grim even if the burden of proof wasn’t high. I have my fallible introspection, in which I, like Hume, can find nothing that looks to me like an independent self capable of sustaining free will. When I look inside I see a chaos of forces that I barely understand much less feel is under my robust control. That may just be me, as much of philosophy is just philosophers telling on themselves, but I get the impression that’s not the case here. Nor do I think mindfulness or psychological work fundamentally replaces the chaos with order and control. It’s more like it helps me be okay with the reality I experience. I don’t have the “feeling” of freedom some folks talk about when I ask them about their experiences around this issue. However, I also have no way to show any of that to anyone, and so can’t expect anyone else to be convinced based solely on my self-reporting.

Turning from introspection to externally observable behaviours provides little help. As far as I can see, there’s no necessary connection between belief or lack of belief in free will and any set of behaviours. Much like saying “I don’t believe in free will” provides little guarantee of the internal reality of my beliefs, acting in various ways and then saying “I acted that way because I don’t believe in free will” carries little weight to those not already convinced.

This is not the same as saying that belief or lack of belief in free will has zero impact on people’s behavior. Rather, it’s acknowledging that there is no easy one to one connection between any particular behaviour and belief or lack of belief in free will. There is substantial research that reported beliefs about free will correlate with a variety other beliefs and behaviours. I personally have experienced shifts in my behaviour as I’ve worked to internalise the objective perspective towards free will, but I can’t hope to isolate the influence of that one belief shift. At best, I can tell a somewhat convincing narrative about how rejecting belief in free will leads to increased humility and compassion, and then point to behaviours that seem to embody those values, but there is no way to externally verify that narrative. Furthermore, in an age when it’s seen as cool in some quarters to deny free will, folks may reasonably worry that my narrative is as much performance art as honest analysis of my own beliefs and behaviors.

I’m left in a rather perplexing position. I believe strongly that I have managed to internalise the objective perspective on free will, enough so that I’ve long since forgotten what it feels like to believe in free will. If there is some subconscious part of me that still clings to the illusion of free will, I can’t find it. Without evidence that it exists, persistent claims that it does and that it still controls my behavior start to feel like gaslighting. I find the persistent insinuation just as unpleasant as theists telling me that I’m not really an atheist because deep down I secretly still believe in god. Yet I’ve had fellow philosophers insist emphatically that I still believe I have free will and I’m just mouthing words to the contrary. I’m baffled how they can have such certainty about the internal state of my mind, when I can’t even manage that, despite a lack of argument or evidence.

Ultimately, these considerations are just another reminder for me of how little I can confidently say about my own mind, which just reinforces to me how I can’t possibly be the person in charge.

Anti-vaxxers are dangerously wrong, but we should be wary of writing them off as stupid or selfish

As we reach the end of what has been an undeniably intense year, we can take some comfort from the knowledge that the world looks likely to receive the Christmas present we’ve all wanted most: a safe and effective COVID-19 vaccine. And while the majority of readers in the UK will have to wait a few more months to receive their present (and readers in some other parts of the world may have to wait even longer, given the way in which wealthier nations have bought their way to the front of the vaccine queue), the knowledge that there is light at the end of the 2020 tunnel should give us all some much-needed hope.

However, it would be naïve to plan for 2021 to be entirely smooth sailing through a world of renewed reason and appreciation for scientific progress. While the prevailing pseudoscience of 2020 concerned the causes of Covid and the ways in which society should mitigate and manage the effects of the pandemic, 2021 will undoubtedly see a committed and vocal anti-vaccine movement. In fact, we’ve already seen the foundations of that movement, with conspiracy theorists making fanciful allegations regarding Bill Gates and encouraging people to go without masks, in spite of the overwhelming evidence of their efficacy. Those same voices will be heard next year, shouting loudest against the vaccine.

With an anti-vaxx movement in the ascendency, skeptics and science communicators look set to have their hands full as we start the new year, pushing back on vaccine misinformation and encouraging the hesitant to line up and get vaccinated. If we want to be as effective as possible in countering the misleading rhetoric of the anti-vaxxers, it’s important that we first of all understand the arguments we want to diffuse, and understand those who spread them.

With that in mind, a pair of recent Ipsos Mori opinion polls, conducted on behalf of The Policy Institute at Kings College London, make for interesting reading (and for those who have seen me write or lecture in the past about opinion polls and survey methodology, I’ll offer some assurances that these look to be well-conducted). The first, published December 10th, looks at the way in which the British public views vaccines, and the way in which we view anti-vaxxers. The most eye-catching take-home from the poll, and the one which generated the most headlines, came when survey respondents were asked to express their opinion of “people who discourage the public from getting vaccinated”, where they were asked to select their opinion from a list of pre-written options.

According to the results of the poll, 41% of people believe that anti-vaxxers are stupid, 33% think they are selfish, and 17% think anti-vaxxers are bad people. Conversely, very few people had favourable views of anti-vaxxers, with just 5% of people respecting them, 5% believing anti-vaxxers are trying to help people, 3% thinking they are smart and 2% thinking they are good people.

When it comes to people who promote vaccination, respondents to the survey were fairly positive, albeit somewhat mutedly: 43% of respondents thought those who encourage the public to get vaccinated are trying to help others, 29% respect them, 27% think they are good people and 23% think they are smart. It would have been nice for one of those categories to tip over the 50% mark to show a majority of support, but it’s possible that the positive support was diluted across multiple favourable responses. Notably, only 2-3% of people expressed any negative opinion about those who promote vaccines.

A screenshot of the Ipsos Mori poll question about the views of people who discourage the public from getting vaccinated and the percentage responses which are described in the text. Additionally 5% answered "none of these" and 4% answered "don't know"

Personally, I have slightly mixed feelings about these findings. On the one hand, it’s obviously enormously encouraging to see anti-vaccine sentiment faring so poorly, with such widespread mistrust of people who discourage vaccines. The fact that we can go into 2021 with some cautious optimism that the dissenting voices on vaccination are likely to be in the minority is far better than the impression given by the weekly gatherings of Covid-deniers we’ve seen in cities across the country these last few months. At the very least, we should take some comfort from the fact that we are not likely to be facing an uphill battle to persuade people to be vaccinated (even if the country ends up navigating some complicated logistics to get the vaccines into the country via our post-Brexit ports).

On the other hand, the view that the pro-vaccine respondents to the Ipsos Mori poll, and that those who commented on the coverage of the poll on social media, had of anti-vaxxers leaves me somewhat uneasy. It can be comforting to write off anti-vaxxers as ‘stupid’ and ‘selfish’ and ‘bad people’, especially when their actions jeopardise the health and wellbeing of vulnerable groups of people, but is that a fair reflection of who we are actually disagreeing with? I’m not convinced it is.

In my experience of talking to people who hold views outside of the mainstream – including views that are outright damaging and dangerous – the answer is rarely that they are unintelligent, or uncaring, or that they house deliberate ill intent for the rest of society. Instead, I’ve found that they are often people who sincerely believe what they’re doing is correct, and that they’re trying to protect people from what they see as being certain harm. That they’re entirely mistaken about that harm – and that they’re often advocating for actions that would be outright dangerous – doesn’t change their intentions or their beliefs.

If I had been part of Ipsos Mori’s poll, I genuinely don’t know what I would have answered when asked which of the responses best fit my opinion of anti-vaxxers. Do I think they’re bad people? On the whole, probably not. They’re certainly doing something bad, but some of them might actually be good people (whatever that means) – just, good people who are very wrong about this issue. Do I think they’re selfish? Almost certainly not – by and large I think they think they are trying to help people… they just have the wrong information and have all the wrong answers.

Do I think they are stupid? I’m not entirely sure that’s a relevant question – being right or wrong on something you feel strongly emotional about is rarely an issue of intelligence. Very smart people can be exceptionally wrong about something, where they have an emotional or ideological blind spot. Indeed, very smart people are very good at being exceptionally wrong, because they are very good at finding justifications for their wrong beliefs – they have to be, because they have to be able to justify their position to themselves, and after all, they’re very smart.

This may all seem like achingly-worthy hand-wringing and hair-splitting, but I genuinely think this matters, because the way we think about and talk about the people we disagree with colours the way we disagree with them. If we see anti-vaxxers as unintelligent, selfish, and even evil, it’s easy to write them off as being beyond reach or beneath us – neither of which are useful starting points for an effective counter to their rhetoric.

Instead, if we try to understand the values, fears and motivations which drive people into anti-vaxx positions, we might be better equipped to dismantle those arguments. If we understand that some people’s anti-vaxx belief stems from fear about the speed of the development of the vaccine, and their worries that vital safety steps might have been missed, we can talk about the ways in which vaccines are tested and the reasons why we should have confidence in these particular vaccines.

If we understand that some people in the anti-vaccine movement are motivated by a misguided desire to protect people and protect their children, we can demonstrate that we understand and appreciate that desire, and that we share in that goal, and we can talk honestly about the reasons why we can believe this vaccine is worth getting.

If we recognise that not all anti-vaxxers are fully committed in that belief, we can offer reassurance rather than condemnation, to let the vaccine-hesitant know that asking questions is completely reasonable, but that the key is knowing where to look for answers that can be trusted. We can explain why social media is not a good place to look for those answers, and why it’s so important to question the answers they feel most emotionally driven to accept. That’s particularly important, given that the second Ipsos Mori poll found that social media – and Facebook in particular – is by far the most common place where people are likely to encounter vaccine misinformation. We can write anti-vaxxers off as being a lost cause or as being too stupid to bother with, or we can choose to be a voice that offers calm, polite, approachable and reasonable opposition to that misinformation.

A screen shot of the Ipsos Mori poll responses for: "where 34% of Britons say they have seen or heard messages encouraging the public not to get a coronavirus vaccine" Responses are 58% for Facebook, 20% for a friend or family member, 19% for Twitter, 17% for Instagram, 16% for YouTube, 15% for Television, 14% for Another online source, 13% for WhatsApp, 9% for Magazine or newspaper, 6% for Radio, 5% for Other and 1% for Don't know.

The COVID-19 vaccine is here, and that’s a relief. The anti-vaccine movement is here, too; small, but vocal – and there is no denying that it presents a challenge… but it also presents an opportunity for skeptics and science communicators to make a difference. We will only be able to do that effectively if we engage with those who might be unsure, and if we listen to fears rather than assign them straw-man motivations that let us dismiss them as evil, selfish and stupid.

It’s true that not all anti-vaxxers will be reachable, but if we start from the assumption that they’re not all beyond reach, we’ll have far more chance of encouraging people to see reason.

‘Fisherman and Djinn’: Illustration by A Stieren in ‘Tausend und eine Nacht’

This one is for all of us who are frustrated at being unable to go to a pantomime this year and shout ‘BEHIND YOU’ at the tops of our voices. Pantomime favourite ‘Aladdin’ features a genie or ‘djinn’ who lives in a vessel – a lamp.

'Fisherman and Djinn', Illustration by A Stieren in 'Tausend und eine Nacht'
The fisherman inadvertently rubs the lamp he has found, and is amazed by the apparition of the djinn (genie).

While people are made of the clay or the earth, the Djinn are spirits made of smokeless flame. Like us they have free will and, although they are long-lived, they are not immortal. They are mentioned in the Koran many times, but they predate it and come from pagan Arabic belief. In this respect, their endurance reflects Islam’s ability to adapt to its environment. Many strands of major religions contain elements of their pagan predecessors which have blended in a process often referred to as ‘syncrasy’. Djinn are hard to characterise as simply either good or evil – they can be both. The notion that spirits could be contained by bottling is thought to have originated with the legend of King Solomon, another example of a pre-Islamic theme which survived.

History is written by the victors, and the losers, and by everyone else as well

  • 1219 – William Marshall, “guardian of the king and kingdom” and arguably the most powerful man in England, dies peacefully in his bed aged around 72.
  • 1189 – William chooses to spare the life of the future King Richard I in battle, killing only his horse instead.
  • 1152 – King Stephen of England decides not to execute his six-year-old hostage, William Marshall, after the boy’s father betrays him.
  • 1168 – Eleanor of Aquitaine pays William’s ransom after he is captured while defending her from an ambush.
  • 1216 – William pledges to protect King Henry III, aged 9, even if every other knight abandons him.

Take a moment to think about what happened when you read the sentences above. Did it bother you that the events aren’t in chronological order? Did you put them in order to make sense of them, or look for connections between events? Maybe you picked out some things which could be possibly be labelled as causes or consequences, or found a theme running through the whole. You might have found in these facts a story about the rewards of chivalry and mercy, or perhaps you saw only how dangerous life was for children (and horses) in this period.

Did you fill in some gaps with information you already had, or wonder what was left out? In other words, how did you start to process this raw data and what processing instincts were you following? If you did anything at all other than ignore that list of events then you, dear reader, have been making history.

I said in my last column that the popular images we have of the home front in World War Two and the notion of Blitz Spirit exist because they have been shaped into those forms. In fact, for all aspects of history the most widespread and enduring images persist not because they are the most accurate but because they have been the most useful. This holds true whether history is being written by academics and other experts or by anyone else conveying these stories and images of the past, even people sharing memories and opinions on local history Facebook groups. The things that stick in our minds, which spark connections and ideas, and the fate and reach of the resulting narratives are influenced by a variety of secondary concerns, in large and small ways.

Even if the information is completely accurate, the overall picture can easily become warped. It has to become warped in order for us to make sense of it. It isn’t possible to have a 100% faithful account of the past because the past and history are two distinct things. There is always a trade-off between making a history comprehensive, accurate and useful, as there is with any method of representing reality.

A clock face with roman numerals on a black background

As Howard Zinn put it in A People’s History of the United States: “It is not that the historian can avoid emphasis of some facts and not others. This is as natural to him as to the mapmaker, who, in order to produce a usable drawing for practical purposes, must first flatten and distort the shape of the earth, then choose out of the bewildering mass of geographical information those things needed for the purpose of  this or that particular map.” To think of it another way, a time machine or perfect simulation of events wouldn’t grant us perfect understanding of every aspect of the past, as we would still have to make sense of that information. We can only make it useful by asking specific questions of this data, which means following an agenda.

There is an objective reality that once existed, in that people had lives, they moved and they communicated, they interacted with their environment and caused things to happen. But all we have afterwards are patchy remains and distorted echoes. There is no completely objective history which can be written from these flawed pieces. There are only judgement calls, some better than others, made in good or bad faith. All of this makes unhelpfully skewed histories difficult to debunk.  We can nit-pick details but that can be a distraction from more significant problems of misuse, of misapplied lessons, of the shape of the story as a whole being a comforting lie, which aren’t a “neutral” matter of facts but are nonetheless essential to discuss openly.

Should museums and educators not trust their audiences more rather than lecturing or spoon-feeding them by interpreting objects and events? Is it even fair to judge the past with modern eyes and modern ideas of morality? Could we stick to “just the facts” and have a neutral, accurate history; the equivalent of an aerial photograph instead of a drawn map, at least as a starting point for individual enquiry? Unfortunately, humans are great at spotting patterns even in random data, and at filling in gaps in line with our existing biases and expectations, however little information we have to work with.

We saw with this year’s US election results how even raw numbers, revealed in a particular order within a certain context, can gather extra significance and become woven into a story.

Even the barest historical data, just the “what happened” can lead us to see misleading patterns, partly due to the narrative conventions we’re used to. The story of someone who lost a fortune and then regained it feels different than the story of someone who gained a fortune and then lost it, even though the timeline contains the same basic components. We saw with this year’s US election results how even raw numbers, revealed in a particular order within a certain context, can gather extra significance and become woven into a story.

It would be irresponsible to purport to be presenting neutral information while making no attempt to compensate for the biases that already exist out in the world and the framing devices which are most commonly shared by one’s audience. There is no such thing as agenda-free history, only agendas that we’re so used to that they pass without notice, and new ones which we can either learn from or reject.

To take the example of the recent arguments over the role of the National Trust or last year’s debates over statues in public places: none of these objects speak for themselves without the help of contextual clues and our own understanding of what these things are. A large house filled with beautiful artwork and furnishings transmits messages about the success and respectable social standing of its past owners and this feeds into wider messages about what it means to be successful, to command respect, and to leave one’s mark on history.

We also know from example the difference between a statue celebrating the life, achievements and by extension the positive qualities of an individual, and a memorial to the victims of an injustice. The former cannot work as the latter without significant and jarring alteration or re-contextualisation (and placing it underwater could, for example, be one effective step towards achieving this).

An artefact presented neutrally, with no agenda, will amplify the most dominant messages around it, which serves the status quo just fine but does not help us to enquire, inform, or progress towards a better, fuller understanding.

Brazilian Congress turns green – not for the environment, but for homeopathy

When the staggering proportions of the challenges brought by the current pandemic became clear, some saw a potential silver lining: perhaps now science, the only sure way to find our road back to safety and health without a massive loss of life, would be taken seriously into account by policy makers and lawmakers all around the world. Alas, it was too much to hope for: indeed, while the trappings, symbols and even the language of science were duly lionized by would-be leaders and other political figures, the content was, quite often, conspicuously absent. Here in Brazil, there have been some notable examples in the last month alone.

The Houses of the Brazilian Congress, lit up green for homeopathy awareness
The Houses of the Brazilian Congress, lit up green for homeopathy awareness

One of the greatest classics of Brazilian literature is a short novel from the 1800s called “The Alienist”, by Machado de Assis. It’s a delicious satire of pseudoscientific pretension and quackery. The novel’s “hero”, if one can call him that, the eponymous Alienist, is in charge of an asylum called “The Green House”. So, when both Houses of the Brazilian Congress agreed, during the last week of November, to bathe its walls in green light to celebrate homeopathy, the connection, unintended as it may well have been, was inevitable.

November 21st is officially recognized here in Brazil as National Homeopathy Day. It was on this date, in the year 1840, that a French homeopath – the first apostle of homeopathy’s founder Samuel Hahnemann to Brazil – set foot in Rio de Janeiro.

The first homeopathy pharmacy in Brazil, which was gifted to Brazil's national museum - many shelves with jars and bottles stand behind a table laden with small bottles as if ready to be filled.
The first homeopathy pharmacy in Brazil, which was gifted to Brazil’s national museum

This particular flavour of pseudoscience has a colorful history in the tropics: it was embraced by both the spiritualist movement (spirit guides would dictate homeopathic prescriptions through entranced mediums) and the military.

As a matter of fact, it was during the military dictatorship of 1964-1985 that homeopathy was accepted by the Federal Board of Medicine as a bona fide “medical practice”, on a par with, say, cardiology or obstetrics. It was a curious historical convergence of right-wing imposition by the so-called “homeopathic generals”, and a pervasive New Age feeling among young left-wing doctors, formed during the “crazy” 1970s.

Brazil's first homeopathy pharmacy has been full replicated in Brazil's national museum
Brazil’s first homeopathy pharmacy has been full replicated in Brazil’s national museum

Usually, the celebration of November 21st is left to the Ministry of Health. This year, however, the Brazilian Medical Homeopathic Association (AMHB) reached out to Congress leaders, perhaps in an attempt to eschew any association with Jair Bolsonaro’s government. The campaign launched by the greening of the Houses had as its slogan “Treat Yourself with Homeopathy”. It did not say for what conditions, but one can hardly ignore that right now there is a single disease that is on everyone’s mind.

It is probably not a coincidence that the Homeopathy campaign and the Congress lighting up green happened right after the launch of the “Counter-dossier on Homeopathic Evidence”, by the Institute Question of Science (IQC). The Counter-dossier was written as a reply to the AMHB’s report that claims to present “scientific evidence for homeopathy”, offering several “scientific articles” to prove it. IQC, together with a team of collaborators which includes Prof Edzard Ernst (University of Exeter, UK), the world’s leading international authority on alternative medicine, published a counter-dossier, in which the authors took apart homeopathic claims one by one, pointing out all methodological flaws and fallacies used in the original work.

It is also rather curious that, while the Congress turns green to promote homeopathy, it has never done so to promote environmental policies, or to promote awareness on the protection of the Amazon Forest and the Wetlands, recently seriously damaged by fire.

In the Executive branch, the Ministry of Health has been working hard to promote false information about COVID-19 to the Brazilian population – even if it means erasing sound advice.

In the middle of November, the official Ministry Twitter account replied to a citizen’s question about what to do when you have symptoms – surprisingly, offering the right information!

Tweet from Brazil's Health Ministry: "Hello! It's important to remember that, so far, there's no vaccine, special food, substance or medication that can prevent or cure Covid-19. The major way to counter the virus is by social distancing and keeping up with the personal protection measures"

The reply stated that there was no vaccine or specific medication, and that the best tools were social distancing, avoiding crowds and wearing a mask. The tweet went viral, but just as Brazilians began to see a glimmer of hope, the Ministry deleted the tweet, apologized for giving “wrong” information, and replaced the scientific information with their customary nonsense: go as quickly as possible to the nearest healthcare unit, and get your Covid medication kit. The Covid medication kit consists of our old friend hydroxychloroquine, plus azithromycin, ivermectin, vitamin D, vitamin C and zync. The “corrected” tweet made no mention of masks, nor of social distancing.

Finally, to cap off a superb month of action – or rather omission – from the Ministry of Health, several national newspapers have published pieces about the substantial rise in the number of cases and hospitalizations over the past weeks, leading scientists to worry about a potential healthcare crisis after the holidays, if nothing is done to raise awareness of the population about the dangers of Christmas and New Year’s family gatherings and parties. While the press has been interviewing scientists and science communicators, there has been no official statement from the Ministry. There are also no clear guidelines for self-isolation and quarantine measures. Meanwhile, President Jair Bolsonaro stated that he is not getting a COVID-19 vaccine when it becomes available, that vaccination is not to be mandatory, and that wearing a mask is useless.

Unfortunately, this is what happens when pseudoscience is institutionalized in the Federal Government. In Brazil, we are worried that it is not the pandemic that is going to kill us – instead, we fear we are more likely to die from a combination of arrogance and stupidity. And sadly, as we do, the 40% of Brazilians who still support Bolsonaro will applaud.

Between ignorance and vanity-fuelled wishful thinking, our authorities seem to have all the answers – unfortunately, it’s all the wrong ones.

‘The Secret’ to a bland romance is: victim blaming, apparently

0

You may have noticed The Secret: Dare to Dream in the UK top ten on Netflix as 2020 draws to a close. Perhaps you’ve even considered watching it: desperate times, plus a 6.4 on IMdB, and it does have that nice Katie Holmes in it… Don’t we all want to dream of a nice romance somewhere near New Orleans with – well, with that guy perhaps best-known for playing one of Patrick Bateman’s appalling colleagues in American Psycho – but, let’s just say with some charming stranger who smiles a lot and makes mysterious claims about how the universe wants you to be happy. That sounds nice, right? 

The problem with The Secret: Dare to Dream is that in addition to being formulaic and bland, with unsympathetic and unconvincing characters spouting laughably on-the nose dialogue and made-up Einstein quotes, it’s a spin-off movie of The Secret. (Yes, the clue was in the title.)

The Secret is a best-selling book by Rhonda Byrne, based on the concept of the Law of Attraction; that what you think will manifest itself in your life. According to The Secret, if you want something, you ask for it, you believe it and broadcast it to the universe, and you – if you are ready to receive it – will get what you want. 

The principle, as Byrne herself admits, is not new. The concept appears everywhere from one of the oldest texts around – “And all things, whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, believing, ye shall receive.” (Matthew 21:22) – through to adherents of New Thought groups, who tend to emphasize the role of belief and thoughts in everything from wealth and success to physical illness. 

The mechanism by which they claim this actually occurs is rather hazy, but to back up the claim that thought can influence matter, proponents point to experiments that they say have proven water molecules are affected by human thoughts. It will not surprise you to know that such experiments are not widely accepted in the wider science community, were not published in mainstream scientific journals, and have not been replicated by non-believing (and therefore less biased) scientists. 

This all might sound far-fetched, and of course it is, but 30 million people worldwide have bought the book and all manner of celebrities and motivational speakers believe in the power of this not-so-secret method. 

This is having practical implications in our communities. Since The Secret was published, attendance at New Thought churches is up, and there are around 4,000 Law of Attraction groups worldwide on Meetup.com

Still, what’s the harm? If people want to believe that good things will come to them, and then perhaps they work hard at getting those things, that’s a good thing, right? 

The Secret Dare to Dream promo image. Katie Holmes and Josh Lucas stand on a jetty over a lake with a sunset behind them.

I’d argue these ideas can have negative implications. For one, The Secret – and indeed this movie – implies that you don’t necessarily need to work hard to accomplish the things you want; they will happen simply because of your belief, with cheques arriving unexpectedly in the post, or takeaway pizza arriving to feed a hungry family, just because you properly visualised and believed they would.

The flipside of this is that The Secret isn’t therefore only about attracting the positive things. The principle also espouses the idea that disease, death and other bad things also happen because of the way you think. 

Starving to death in a famine? All those negative thoughts you’re having from hunger will only attract more famine. Being murdered in a genocide? Your fault. 

I wish I was making this up, but when Bob Proctor, one of the featured thinkers from Byrne’s book, was asked in an interview on ABC Nightline whether children in Darfur had attracted the starvation to themselves, he answered: “I think the country probably has.” 

The Law of Attraction teaches that those who have died in the most appalling ways, including natural disasters and wars, were having thoughts that “matched the frequency of the event”, and that their thoughts led to them being “in the wrong place at the wrong time”, which seems like a mild way of describing being murdered by a spree killer or terrorists or a genocidal war machine. The concept is truly abhorrent, and such thinking is only a hop and a skip away from taking a criminally laissez faire approach to solving the real problems that exist in the world. 

On a more personal level, The Secret teaches that “Illness cannot exist in a body that has harmonious thoughts.” This victim-blaming nonsense has a very real harm – people who believe in the Law of Attraction while suffering from terminal cancer may also believe that their inability to cure themselves is, quite literally, their fault. I can think of very few more disgusting philosophies. 

So it is a relief that The Secret: Dare to Dream is such a lousy film, with only a brief and unintentionally hilarious confrontation at a teenager’s birthday party in its favour. Although it has hovered for a short while in the UK Netflix top ten, its limp plot, flaccid ending and inability to stick even to its own rules seems unlikely to make many new converts.