Pseudoscience

I recently finished reading a curious book called "Surely You're Joking, Mr. Feynman!": Adventures of a Curious Character. It’s a collection of memories and funny stories by the Nobel Prize-winning physicist Richard Feynman, who tells about all kinds of things: from fixing radios as a child, over his involvement in developing the atomic bomb, to his many adventures with beautiful blondes – the typical life of the average academic, quoi. (Not.)

Now if there was one thing Feynman couldn’t stand, it’s pseudoscience. In his last chapter of the book, he explains why:

During the Middle Ages there were all kinds of crazy ideas, such as that a piece of rhinoceros horn would increase potency. Then a method was discovered for separating the ideas--which was to try one to see if it worked, and if it didn't work, to eliminate it. This method became organized, of course, into science. And it developed very well, so that we are now in the scientific age. It is such a scientific age, in fact that we have difficulty in understanding how witch doctors could ever have existed, when nothing that they proposed ever really worked--or very little of it did. But even today I meet lots of people who sooner or later get me into a conversation about UFOS, or astrology, or some form of mysticism, expanded consciousness, new types of awareness, ESP, and so forth. And I've concluded that it's not a scientific world.

On the one hand, it’s really quite fascinating to see that Feynman reacted so heavily against pseudoscience because of his unshakable belief in science itself. On the other hand, it’s quite tragic that what Feynman complained about decades ago (the above was written in 1974), still applies today.

Indeed, it’s tragic how much pseudoscience is still around these days. One very clear example of this is what is known as post hoc ergo propter hoc. Confusing an event that preceded another event with one the cause of the latter event. Indeed, only today there was a very clear example of this kind of mistaken logic in the papers.

Four hours of sport a week reduces your chances of having a burn-out by half the article in question said. An Israeli study had studied workers for nine years and observed that the more people did sports, the less their chances were of getting a burn-out. Ergo: doing sports prevents a burn-out.

But this is faulty logic. It’s not because event A is followed by (post hoc) event B, that event B is caused by event A (propter hoc). It’s not because you do sports, that you don’t get a burn-out; just like it’s not because you don’t do sports that you do get a burn-out. Think about it. Isn’t it much more logical that people who exercise for four hours a week have energetic personalities and are therefore (either genetically or psychologically) less prone to get a burn-out anyway? At the very least the Israeli experiment does not prove that exercise is the cause of the lack of the burn-out.

The same is true for all the alcohol versus life expectancy research. Every so often there is a study that proves that one or two glasses of beer or wine a day supposedly makes you live longer. Indeed, when you observe a bunch of people, those who drink moderately tend to live longer than those who don’t drink at all. But that doesn’t prove that moderate drinking is the cause of living longer. Isn’t it more likely that most people who drink moderately probably live an easier, a funner, in short a happier life than those who never touch a drop of alcohol? And happy equals less stress equals less cardiovascular disease. But if you’re happy because of another reason, like through having a rewarding job, a good family life, etcetera, I’m sure it’s just as beneficial for your life expectancy. So it’s happiness that makes you live longer, not alcohol.

After all, Feynman stopped drinking very early on in his life and he lived to be 70, which was exactly the life expectancy of a male at the time.

Aha!

... that's the question!

In a recent article in the newspaper, I read that some people tend to believe that dolphins have quite a good notion about the meaning of 'death'. They are not the only animals showing emotions when a member of their group dies - elephants, chimps and gorilla's can also exhibit behaviour which looks like mourning - but apparently the reaction of dolphins is rather profound. At least that's what Joan Gonzalvo, a dolphin specialist working in a research institute in Milano, claims.

Somehow, this article made me think of something I have read a few years ago: together with human beings, dolphins are the only creatures that can have sex for pleasure. Now this raises at least a few questions. First of all, and most obviously: is it true? As a matter of fait divers, I couldn't care less. The answer is either yes or no. Black or white. Heads or tails.

What I find more interesting is the following question: who conjectured this, and why? Seriously, being an academic myself, I am no stranger to coming up with silly questions - or what seems like a silly question to the outer world. Has Mongolia ever won the Paralympics, for example? But the thing is that my own curiosity is usually triggered by something. Inspiration doesn't come for free - especially not when, as is often the case, it is to be found in a glass of alchol. So this leads me right back to the aforementioned question: who came up with the idea that dolphins might be the only animals having sex for pleasure, and why?

Either the Fish Porn Departement does not only have an extensive selection of cod mating classics (this is what comedians describe as a call-back) but also caters for dolphin lovers ('Flipper and the Blowhole', anyone?), or this person was engaged in sexual intercourse with a Delphinidae family member and got compliments afterwards. Which is not some sick twist of my mind, by the way. Check the following page in case that crossed yours...

The most interesting question however, is the following: how do you (dis)prove that claim? Think about it: how can you verify whether dolphins really are the only animals enjoying the act of procreation? There's only one way to do that, right? Testing all other animals.

Which, in a moment of pure insight, lead me to the obvious answer to questions 2 and 3.

The only guy that could have concluded this, was Noah.

Yups, Noah from the Bible story.

The one about his Ark.

Or, as I would call it, his Love Boat...

Swishing!

We all have too much stuff. If you’ve ever moved house, you know what I mean. Once a year we all should go through the experiment of putting all our stuff in cardboard boxes and carry it down and up a few flights of stairs. I doubt we would keep half of what we do now!

Some of this stuff is completely useless (e.g., since 2009 I have had a Hello Kitty bubble blowing pipe in one of my drawers and cannot for the life of me say why I keep it), but other stuff you have paid good money for and are reluctant to throw away. You look at that ill-fitting sweater and think: ‘There’s nothing wrong with this sweater. I bet many people would be glad to have it. Just not me…’

Maybe this is how the concept of ‘swishing’ came about, which Wikipedia describes as follows:

• Swishing refers to swapping an item or items of clothing or shoes or an accessory with friends or acquaintances. Parties must willingly give an item to participate in the transaction, once they have given an item they are free to choose something of interest from what others have offered. Value does not come into the equation, swappers do not necessarily get an item of equal value and are free to choose anything that the other person if offering (without having to pay).

I got to know about the phenomenon from a funny description of an evening of swishing organised by my friends E. and B., who told the tale of the occasion in one of their blog posts on Schoenen en andere kwesties. ‘Fifteen women, as many bottles of sparkling wine, and a huge pile of clothes’, to quote the post… Oh how I would have loved to be a fly on that wall! The adrenaline! The excitement! The ecstasy! Indeed, I must confess that I feel in fact a bit jealous of this women-only, but obviously thrilling entertainment…

Yet, I think you won’t quarrel when I say that neither I nor the other Fred are very much inclined to spend the evening trying on someone else’s shoes or jeans. We need something else, something slightly more ‘Fred-ish’, so to speak. That is: a bit nerdy, but with a twist. So we came up with this.

We are proud to announce the FRED AND FRED’S BOOK SWISHING!

For sure, it needn’t be clothes or shoes, books will do just fine for swishing. So here’s the concept. On Friday 19 August Fred and Fred will host a very swishy party, where our readers are invited to come along with their swishable books. Please keep in mind, though, that no one will likely be interested in outdated yellow pages, in books that have been partly eaten by your dog, or in your school copy of the Children’s Bible. To stay in religious context: ‘Do not swish unto another what you would not have him swish unto you!’. What I am thinking of is that novel you excitedly bought in a cute bookshop, only to discover a forgotten copy of it on your top shelf. Or that historical novel your aunt bought you for Christmas, while you absolutely detest that genre. Or that book you have started reading five times, but somehow never managed to finish.

You get the idea…

The exact rules of the swishing and the exact proceeding of the evening will be decided on at a later point in time. Perhaps you could entertain us with some stories about the acquiring of certain books (How did you get that copy of “Dagboek van een herdershond”?). Or perhaps we could read a passage from the swishees (How about a small extract on doing the Heimlich Maneuver on yourself from “The SAS Survival Handbook”?). But rest assured, we won’t let the evening turn stuffy or aloof. There will be plenty of booze (incidentally one of the Freds celebrates a birthday sometime in August) and if it all ends in a drunken second-hand book market, that’s just fine with us!

So please reply through the comment box or at fredcumfred@gmail.com, if you’re interested and we’ll get back to you personally with the details of the event!

PS: In case you didn’t notice, Fred and Fred are back from their summer break! So keep your eyes and browsers peeled for new posts which will be appearing regularly on weekdays!

Prometheus

Yesterday my friend N. and I went to see the play Prometheus - Landscape II by Jan Fabre (and Jeroen Olyslaegers), which was errrr... Well, let me tell you about it.

Prometheus is the story of an ancient Greek titan who stole fire from Zeus and gave it to mortals. In Fabre's interpretation this resulted in a school exercise in postmodern theatre. Complete with ironic dialogue, paradoxical body language, and people masturbating on stage. Now don't get me wrong. I can handle that. In fact, the image of one person trying to make fire by rubbing a stick between his hands on one side of the stage and another tugging feverishly away at his cock on the other side, was quite a good visual expression of the kind of metaphysical masturbation Prometheus' hybris stands for. But while watching the play, I couldn't shake off the feeling that it all needed too much thinking. Every line, every gesture was a inversion of meaning. Accordingly, the winks to postmodern and deconstructionist philosophy - which teaches us that however we might try we are never really able to put meaning into words, so we might as well say the opposite - were all over the place. I mean, shouting over and over again 'To instruct is to destruct' at the end of the play, looks more like someone showing off his university course in literary theory and cultural studies, than like a playwright who wants to move an audience. And this is my point.

When the play was finished, my friend N was completely confounded. In fact, I think she felt a little sick. You have to give Fabre that: you leave the theatre with a foul feeling in your stomach, questioning everything and anything you know. Yet, not knowing the story of Prometheus, not knowing deconstructionism and postmodern criticism, she had only seen people shouting and doing strange shit. She wasn't moved, she wasn't involved, and she certainly wasn't amused.

So while there might have been a lot at the background of this Prometheus, I wonder: 'Does it really have to be so intellectualistic, so elitist?' To be frank, I had hoped contemporary theatre anno 2011 might have moved on from a philosophical vogue which had its heyday in the 70s, 80s and early 90s. Sure that philosophy has taught us that every story is a violent attempt to control reality, but the best thinkers of the school have always stressed that while we essentially cannot tell a story, we can still try. Why not? We all try to make something out of our lives, even if sometimes we feel, in the end, we cannot be sure to succeed.

Had we seen a play at least trying to tell a story, trying to move people, trying to make sense of it all, even if this seems futile, and especially without a director with his head stuck in his own philosophical ass, N. and I might not have needed two or three mojitos before coming back to our senses. Indeed, it might have helped the poor girl sleep last night...

PS: for some impressions, see this Youtube film

-isms

Funny that Fred should blog about one (actually two) of the world's many -isms yesterday, since today my job has been to make sense of a whole shitload of such -isms. Yes, my morning was spent trying to make sense of kinds of prose style, ranging from Ciceronianism to Anti-Ciceronianism, and crossing over - fasten your seatbelts - archaism, Laconism, mannerism, Euphuism, Gongorism (also culteranism or cultism), Marinism (also concettism or secentism) and conceptism. Phew...

Now all of these are different ways to write. One might be plain and simple, harmonious and neatly balanced, the other laborious, affectated and even downright absurd. Obviously, we all know there's different ways of saying stuff, but I confess that even an academic freak like myself may still stand in awe of all these different -isms.

If you'd like to get a feel for how such a stylistic same shit, different way, might work, there is an interesting little book I can highly recommend: Raymond Queneau's Exercises in Style. The book tells the story of a man seeing the same stranger twice in one day, but it tells that short story in 99 different ways. And if you don't like reading that much, there's even an adaptation in a graphic novel of it.

Or, if you'd like to stay closer to the kind of -ism Fred used in his blog, i.e. the philosophical isms, you can check out Wikipedia's list which mentions several hundreds of them.

Of course, in the end thinking about stuff like this might result in one -ism to many, as might happen to me by the end of the day. The -ism I mean, is of course, the mother of all: alcoholism.

Cheers!