A Bite-Sized Discourse on Method

We are bombarded by so much information these days that it is sometimes difficult to remain levelheaded when evaluating that information. Studies are released, suggesting that this is good for us and that is bad for us, and the media that report these studies almost never follow up on them. Is supplemental vitamin E really linked to heart disease? Does echinacea really fight infection? Who knows?

The thing about studies is that they have to be replicated under identical conditions to really tell us anything, and even then, nothing is ever proved. You see, it is a common misconception that something can be proven scientifically. Something can be disproved in science, but never proved. In fact, mathematics is the only branch of science in which proof can be established, since mathematics relies solely on a logical framework instead of empirical observation. As such, I suppose mathematics is the most “meditative” science.

Anyway, all of this never stops companies from telling us that something is “clinically proven” to do something (although an acceptable meaning of prove is “to test”), nor does it stop throngs of suckers from believing that crap like Scientology (yes, this again) is based on scientific principles.

Science is a catchall term for a collection of disciplines, some of which deal with some very complicated material. Nonetheless, scientific principles are rather simple, in that they largely boil down to the scientific method. In simplified form, the scientific method looks like this:

1. Characterization: Quantify and measure observable phenomena.
2. Hypothesis: Create an explanation for that observation.
3. Prediction: Based on that explanation, form a generalization about previously unobserved phenomena.
4. Experimentation: Test that prediction. Rinse and repeat if necessary.

It’s a pretty good rubric to follow, but it doesn’t quite make science perfect. Why not? Well, scientists are human. Humans screw up. They neglect to take Variable A into account, or they neglect to consider the influence of Variable B. Sometimes, they fake their results. It happens, but it doesn’t really matter. Why? Because when attempts are made to replicate experimental results in cases of fakery, those results won’t be replicated. It gets trickier in cases in which a certain variable is neglected and results are ascribed to another variable. It’s the neglected variable that really makes the difference, but the results always turn out the same. This can cause confusion for a while, but a very careful experimenter can get past it and set us on a better track.

I hate to admit that the idea for this particular entry was once again stirred by Mr. Hubbard and his devoted cult. But I did want to shine an interesting light on the Scientology canon, based on the work of Sir Thomas Browne, a 17th-century English polymath who authored Pseudodoxia Epidemica, a treatise on the superstitions and misconceptions of his time. Sir Thomas employed a simple and interesting three-prong test of the validity of ideas. The criteria to consider go something like this:

1. The authority of the authors supporting those ideas
2. Logical analysis of the ideas themselves
3. Empirical experience

One might say that the first prong of the test is troublesome, since an “appeal to authority” is often used as a logical whitewash. Still, it has its use. After all, would you rather take medical advice from a licensed doctor or a used-car salesman? (For that matter, would you rather take used-car advice from a licensed doctor or a used-car salesman? But that’s another issue.)

While Browne’s miniature algorithm seems overly simple, it is important to note how rarely it—or any other test of validity—is actually employed by the lay community, and sometimes even by the scientific community. While I won’t necessarily advocate an attitude of suspicion toward everything one hears or reads, I would recommend a healthy level of skepticism, even toward information coming from seemingly authoritative sources.

Let’s take Browne’s test for a simple test drive, and let’s put our old friend L. Ron Hubbard under the microscope for a minute:

1. What is the authority of the author supporting the idea? L. Ron Hubbard became a science-fiction writer after dropping out of college after only two years, having managed only a D average during his time there. Though always a weak science student, Hubbard was clearly obsessed with being seen as someone with scientific aptitude, often signing his name with “C.E.” (for civil engineer) suffixing it and finally resorting to purchasing a bogus Ph.D. from a California degree mill, then “resigning” his doctorate in a newspaper’s editorial page only after his ruse was publicly revealed. In his lectures, he referred to himself as a “nuclear physicist” on several occasions, despite his utter lack of academic credentials or—as his lectures amply demonstrate—even basic knowledge of radiation.
2. Do Hubbard’s ideas stand up to logical analysis? While detailed examples abound for those willing to spend a few minutes researching the issue, suffice it to say that the ideas that make any sense in Hubbard’s writing are stolen from other sources, while those that originated with him are prime examples of speciousness and spuriousness. • Hubbard’s engrams, which form the core of the Dianetics theory, have never been detected in scientific studies. [It is interesting to note that the concept of the engram—and the term itself—came from the work of psychologist Karl Lashley, who posited that physical traces in neural tissue were responsible for memory. In such a context, the concept seems reasonable. Still, their actual physical existence has not been established.] • Hubbard further claimed that niacin (also known as nicotinic acid, which was derived from nicotine), a member of the B family of vitamins, is capable of “running out radiation” from the body, mistaking the so-called “niacin flush” for old sunburns being retriggered. Really it is just niacin’s role as a vasodilator in action: the capillaries near the skin are dilated, and a flush occurs. This effect disappears within minutes. • The chief “religious artifact” in Scientology is the “E-Meter,” which does nothing more than measure the galvanic skin response, one of the factors often measured on a polygraph machine. Hubbard’s idea was that the E-Meter would reveal the effect of engrams when certain questions were asked. As there is no evidence to support Hubbard’s concept of the engram, the central purpose of the E-Meter is also drawn into question. At any rate, the only thing an E-Meter can demonstrate is the change in electrical conductivity of the skin. Assigning a definitive cause to that change and preventing the questioning of that assignment is not science. It is cultist quackery. I encourage everyone to research the numerous other examples of Hubbard’s junk science. I also encourage that such research be objective and tempered by the application of Browne’s rules.
3. Is there any empirical evidence to support Hubbard’s claims? None. For instance, Hubbard’s supposedly secular theories are applied in educational settings under the guise of Applied Scholastics and the so-called “Study Technology.” Careful examination of these “educational” ideas suggests that their purpose is really for programming participants to be susceptible to propaganda. Look up information on the Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis for more on how the structure of language is seen as a potential determinant of thought itself. Also, George Orwell’s 1984 provides an interesting example of the aims of restructuring language for mind control. At any rate, “Study Technology” has never been demonstrated to be effective, despite Applied Scholastics’ vague and unsubstantiated claims. Furthermore, Hubbard’s other ideas, whether scientific or psychological, have no grounding in empirical observation.

Above, I mentioned that anyone else’s research into Scientology—or anything, for that matter—should be objective and subject to Browne’s rules. After all, the only way to obtain worthwhile information scientifically is to study it dispassionately. The passion can come later. Let careful examination reveal bullshit for what it is.

Looking Back at Looking Forward

My 30th birthday is just around the corner. I remember times when I was much younger, when I would think ahead to the 21st century, a time that seemed so far in the future, and wonder at the person I would become. And now, just over six weeks from starting my 31st year, I am happy to report that things so far seem to have worked out pretty well.

Perhaps that statement’s greatest support comes from my looking forward in positive anticipation rather than looking back with regret. It is an exciting time—and a challenging time—for all of us, and I’m eager to move forward. I’m eager to make my younger self proud.

Cargo Cult Scientology (with Apologies to Richard Feynman)

I was first inspired to set up this blog when Tom Cruise was making an ass of himself in public, raving about Scientology and his love for Katie Holmes and raging against psychiatry and all the other so-called pseudosciences. I had found it amazing that anyone in the public eye could label anything as pseudoscientific while serving as a mouthpiece for one of the most ridiculous pseudoscientific cults ever formed. I was—and am—further amazed that participation in such a cult would be celebrated so openly, and not practiced in embarrassed secrecy. I was also kind of disappointed that some people I admire—the most troublesome for me being jazz great Chick Corea—had fallen under Scientology’s spell. I wanted to learn more about this organization, and I wanted to try to see how so many people were roped into what I consider to be an obvious case of hucksterism perpetrated on a large scale.

Of course, I couldn’t criticize something blindly on superficial impressions, so I made an effort to slog through some of L. Ron Hubbard’s writing on Dianetics—which later spawned Scientology as a religious movement—and Scientology itself. I was prepared to see some impressive bait, and I was prepared to absolve these pour souls for having taken it. After all, what Scientology promises—freedom of the spirit and mind to exist unencumbered by the things that plague us mere mortals—is very attractive.

What I found, however, was garbage, pure and simple. Sadly, Scientology seems to be based on nothing more than the ridiculous ramblings of a megalomaniac and paranoiac who wanted to make some real money in the writing game. Dianetics, Hubbard’s first published book on the nature of the mind, which adumbrated Scientology, contains page after page of Hubbard’s claiming “scientific facts,” with no documentation or evidence of actual experimentation to back up his claims.

The crux of the argument of Dianetics is that all psychological, and ultimately physical, ills are caused by the presence of things called engrams, little unconscious bits of code that record your negative experiences and replay them, when the time is right, to ruin your life. Hubbard says that it is a “scientific fact” that they exist, and we are left to take his word for it. In fact, he says that our cells themselves are sentient, and that engrams are encoded into their protoplasm. These engrams can’t be seen, but he knows they’re there. It’s a scientific fact.

Perhaps I can’t fault Hubbard too much for not understanding the scientific method, which creates falsifiable hypotheses based on observations and then seeks to test those hypotheses. After all, he never completed his course of study in civil engineering at George Washington University. He was placed on academic probation after his first year, and he left the program altogether less than halfway through. Nonetheless, in Dianetics, Hubbard credits his “instructors in atomic and molecular phenomena, mathematics and the humanities at George Washington University and at Princeton.” While Hubbard did once attend the U.S. Navy's School of Military Government on the Princeton campus, the school was not a part of the university. Scientology's past claims that Hubbard had attended Princeton have been abandoned in recent years. At any rate, Hubbard clearly wants his readers to view him as a learned man. And, lest his readers forget, he tends to remind them from time to time. Hubbard frequently refers to his calculations using advanced mathematics, and of their exclusion from his published writing for the sake of his poor readers. Furthermore, Hubbard used to refer to himself as doctor after purchasing a bogus Ph.D. for $20 from a nonexistent university. When his ruse was publicly exposed, he went back to being plain old Mr. Hubbard.

Of course, I run the risk of an ad hominem argument if I tell you that Hubbard was not only a bad scientist but also a bad writer. Now, I am not evaluating the entertainment value of his early pulp fiction; I haven’t read any of it. What I am talking about is his fundamental lack of understanding of English grammar and mechanics. His writing is a smorgasbord of solecisms, punctuation gaffes, diction errors, invented words, and logical lapses that suggests a disordered mind at work rather than a visionary thinker.

Why bother criticizing Hubbard’s writing style when it is really his ideas on trial? Simply put, Hubbard purports Scientology to be a path to higher intelligence, clearer thought, and spiritual freedom. Yet this man, who made his living as a writer, never demonstrated clear thought as translated to the printed word. Hubbard spent his later life supposedly in “research” into the nature of man, and his great discoveries included the ridiculous genesis story of Xenu, the evil galactic ruler who seeded earth with disembodied souls after planting billions of them next to volcanoes and blowing them up with hydrogen bombs. (Religious truth or pulp science fiction? Who cares? You can learn all about it if you pay enough to become an Operating Thetan, Level III.) These great truths never resulted in an evolution of thought or logic as evinced in Hubbard’s writing. Though what he says changes over the years, how he says it stays exactly the same. There is no evolution in language, in grammar, in diction. If anything, his writing devolves into an Orwellian Newspeak, perverting common words to serve new purposes and inventing others when needed.

Why are so many celebrities falling for Scientology? For one thing, it is the only religion that comes to mind that segregates its churches based on celebrity status. The posh Celebrity Centres are Hubbard’s way of rewarding artists, who Hubbard says “are a cut above man.” While it is nice to think along with Hubbard that a society is only as great as its dreams, and that those dreams are dreamed by artists, it is much more plausible to believe that Scientology specifically caters to celebrities’ famous vanities and insecurities in order to have free worldwide publicity for its cult.

It is my sad conclusion that, whatever their motivation for initially looking into the organization, Scientology’s members have fallen for nothing more than a scam. And the happy news for the Scientology money machine comes from the paraphrased wisdom of P.T. Barnum, which suggests that a potential member is born every minute.

The Search for Security and Bliss

Passion is a strange fuel. It keeps us moving when our stomachs are empty and our brains are full of doubt. It is the energy on which our engine for finding and realizing our bliss depends.

I believe that passion can be felt both as a great motivator and as an oppressive hunger, either propelling someone toward his bliss or protesting when he strays from its path. Both qualities still stir within me, and I am stuck with the conflict over what path to walk, knowing that walk I must.

My last entry had me writing bittersweetly, but hopefully, in the face of my last day at my last full-time job. I have since found another job, this one more interesting and closer to home but still lacking the security and benefits that a proper full-time job offers. And though it is more interesting than my last position, it is not, ultimately, what I want to do with my life, and the pangs I feel are my passion reminding me so.

I believe that passion foments talent, and I believe that our bliss, our talents, and our passions work in concert. In many ways, my belief is teleological: Our motivations and desires exist in order for us to define and hone our talents and use them to contribute to the betterment of all living things. As grandiose as this may appear, in my mind—no, in my heart—I find it wasteful for it to be otherwise. This is a patently unscientific view of things, and I suppose it can be seen as a statement of faith.

While the temporary setback of being without a job has been solved, my grander search exists in earnest. Before this year began, I predicted it to be a crucial turning point in my search for personal and professional bliss. While that bliss has not been fully realized as the eleventh month begins, I do believe that the corner—not yet turned—is in sight.