Skeptophilia (skep-to-fil-i-a) (n.) - the love of logical thought, skepticism, and thinking critically. Being an exploration of the applications of skeptical thinking to the world at large, with periodic excursions into linguistics, music, politics, cryptozoology, and why people keep seeing the face of Jesus on grilled cheese sandwiches.
Showing posts with label Graham Hancock. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Graham Hancock. Show all posts

Saturday, August 17, 2024

Underwater cherry-picking

Because my son has an odd sense of humor (Wonder where he got that from?  It's a puzzle), for my last birthday he got me a copy of Graham Hancock's 2002 book Underworld: The Mysterious Origin of Civilization.  Hancock is notorious in skeptical circles for his outlandish ideas about... well, damn near everything.

I use the word "outlandish" deliberately, because he not only propounds dozens of claims about the origins of earthly cultures, he also has an entire book on the "Face on Mars," which is supposedly evidence of an advanced civilization on the Red Planet that was later wiped out by a cataclysm, but which turns out to be a bigass pile of rocks that only looks like a face if you (1) aim your camera at it from one specific direction, (2) make sure the photograph is grainy and low-resolution, and (3) squint your eyes at it real hard.

Hancock is not above messing with the facts to make them fit his favorite pseudoarchaeological "theories."  RationalWiki, never ones to mince words, describe a tiff he got into over the Egyptian pyramids:
[H]e aligned the Giza complex to the constellation of Orion as it was some 10,000 years ago, although the BBC program Horizon thought otherwise.  They claimed that Hancock had fiddled with the locations of some of the temples to fit in with his own theories, and had even ignored the texts carved on the temples themselves, which explained quite clearly why and when they had been built.  Hancock cried foul to the Broadcasting Standards Commission, who politely told him to sod off.
So he's a little suspect right from the get-go.  Then add to this the fact that he's appeared on The Joe Rogan Experience, which by itself reduces someone's credibility level to the dimensions of your typical subatomic particle.

Despite this, his books are international bestsellers, which makes a writer like myself grind my teeth down to nubs.

But all envy aside, I decided to read Underworld.  I figured at least it was worth the time from the standpoint of entertainment.  

There's no doubt he's got a compelling style, with a keen eye for description and detail, and does know a good deal about the places he visits.  You can see why unwary readers find him convincing.  But if you start looking at just about all of his claims with any care at all, you find that his foremost talent is cherry-picking.

Historian Garrett Fagan's 2006 book Archaeological Fantasies: How Pseudoarchaeology Misrepresents the Past and Misleads the Public gives dozens of examples of Hancock's selective use of evidence -- such as his claim that Antarctica was ice-free six thousand years ago (ignoring geological and ice core data showing that it's been completely glaciated for at least a hundred thousand years), and that the Bolivian archaeological site of Tiwanaku has been the subject of "minimal archaeology" and is "a mysterious site about which very little is known" (actually, it's been extensively studied, including radioisotope analysis strongly contradicting Hancock's assertion that it's over ten thousand years old).

So the approach appears to be "mention only the evidence that supports your claim, and cite only people who agree with you."

Hell, it worked for Erich von Däniken, right?

To take one example from Underworld, there's Yonaguni Monument, which I had never heard of before.  Yonaguni is an underwater rock formation in the Ryukyu Island chain.  There's no doubt it's peculiar:

[Image licensed under the Creative Commons Melkov, Yonaguni Monument Terraces midpart NWW, CC0 1.0]

The edges are dead-straight, some with corners at perfect right angles.  Here's what Hancock writes about it:
The first anomalous structure that was discovered at Yonaguni lies below glowering cliffs of the southern shore of the island.  Local divers call it Iseki Point ("Monument Point").  Into its south face, at a depth of about 18 meters, an area of terracing with conspicuous flat planes and right angles has been cut.  Two huge parallel blocks weighing about 30 tonnes each and separated by a gap of less than 10 centimeters have been placed upright side by side at its northwest corner.  In about five meters of water at the very top of the structure there is a kidney-shaped "pool" and nearby is a feature that many divers believe is a crude rock-carved image of a turtle.  At the base of the monument, in 27 meters of water, there is a clearly defined stone-paved path oriented toward the east...

Two kilometers west of Iseki Point is the "Palace."  Here an underwater passageway leads into the northern end of a spacious chamber with megalithic walls and ceiling.  At the southern end of the chamber a tall, lintelled doorway leads into a second smaller chamber beyond.  At the end of that chamber is a vertical, rock-hewn shaft that emerges outside on the roof of the "Palace."  Nearby a flat rock bears a pattern of strange, deep grooves.  A little further east there is a second megalithic passage roofed by a gigantic slab that fits snugly against the tops of the supporting walls.
What's remarkable -- and insidious -- about the way this is written is that without giving any actual evidence, he deliberately chooses verbs implying that Yonaguni is an artificial construct.   "Cut."  "Placed upright."  "Carved."  "Paved."  "Oriented."  "Hewn."  Even the nouns do this: "Passageway."  "Roof."  "Lintel."  "Ceiling."  "Terrace."  "Path."

Once he sets you up this way, the rest of his argument -- if I can dignify it by that name -- goes something like this:
  • Is Yonaguni a manmade structure?  Sure looks like it to me.
  • To cut and place enormous stones with that precision requires significantly advanced technology.
  • But it's under twenty-some-odd meters of water!  So it must have been built when the sea level was lower.
  • When was the sea level that low?  Tens of thousands of years ago.  So that must be when Yonaguni was built.
  • So the Ryukyu Islands were inhabited by a highly technological culture twenty thousand years ago.  Q.E.D.
The trouble is, the scientific consensus (I can almost hear Hancock shouting "to hell with the scientific consensus!", but we'll soldier on anyhow) is that Yonaguni is a completely natural formation, formed from shale and sandstone of Lower Miocene age.  Archaeologist Carl Feagans has studied the formation extensively, and after an analysis of the features of the structure (which I encourage you to read in its entirety) has the following to say:
The first and primary claim made about the Yonaguni Formation, that it is an artificial, megalithic construction, is not upheld.  Not if you’re a rational person who cares about evidence...

[N]one of the “features” [described as artificial] are supported by evidence that corroborates the claim.  There’s a lot of talk about “tool marks” but no evidence of these is shown.  There’s talk about artifacts, but no discussion on why they could not have been lost a sea by other means.  There’s a lot of “looks like” analogies but no physical evidence to show why they are anything more than pareidolia or imagination.

[T]here’s no evidence that the YF is anything more than a naturally occurring formation of shale and sandstone originally deposited in the Miocene and uplifted and inundated in the Pleistocene.
Look, I understand how easy it is to be fooled.  Only fifteen kilometers from where I live is a lovely spot called Lucifer Falls.  The bedrock around here is similar to Yonaguni -- shale, slate, limestone, and sandstone -- albeit a great deal older (our rocks are Devonian in age).  

And all along the path to Lucifer Falls are rocks with squared-off corners, some so flat they look like they must have been cut by humans.  But no.  Other than a few obvious stairs, walls, and platforms, the area around the falls is completely natural.  The rocks simply fractured that way.

[Image licensed under the Creative Commons Andrea Pagani, Lucifer Falls (232560709), CC BY-SA 3.0]

But Hancock knows all too well that "it's cool, but it's a natural rock formation" doesn't sell near as well as stuff like Atlantis, Mu, and Lemuria.  So don't expect the cherry-picking to stop any time soon.

As far as Underworld goes, I guess I'll persist with reading it a bit more.  I've gotta be able to tell my son that at least I gave it the ol' college try.

But if Hancock brings up Ancient Aliens, I'm fucking done.

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Monday, March 11, 2019

Confidence, impacts, and ice ages

One of the most common misunderstandings about science by laypeople centers around the concept of degree of confidence.

This misunderstanding can be summed up that "all unproven hypotheses are equally likely."  You hear it with lots of loopy ideas -- that (for example) because we don't have strong evidence one way or the other regarding the existence of an afterlife, it's on the same footing as other phenomena for which we have no direct evidence, such as dark matter, time travel, and the claim we've been visited by extraterrestrials.

Another way this shows up is the dismissive, "all of this could be proven wrong tomorrow" attitude toward science.  The fact that new discoveries have on occasion overturned what we thought we understood is taken as evidence that all of science is on thin ice, that it's all equally tentative.  But this rests on a serious misapprehension about the reliability of evidence.  It's true that, as Einstein allegedly put it, "one experiment could prove wrong" either the Second Law of Thermodynamics or our understanding of the mechanisms of quantum entanglement; but the first is extremely unlikely (the Second Law is one of the most extensively-tested scientific principles known, and there has never been a single exception found to it) while even the physicists would admit the second is a possibility (we're still elucidating the idea of quantum entanglement, and new and intriguing data is being added to our understanding on nearly a daily basis).

This frustrates people who like to have certainty, or at least like to be able to say with confidence that something isn't possible.  I ran into an especially good example of this just yesterday when I was reading an article about the Younger Dryas, a mysterious climatological reversal that occurred 12,900 years ago and lasted only 1,200 years -- a mere blip on the geological time scale.  What happened was that during a period when the Earth was warming, in only a few decades the average temperature of the Earth dropped by an average of four degrees Celsius, enough to put most of the Northern Hemisphere back in the deep freeze.  (The event is named after a plant, Dryas octopetala, which only grows in extremely cold places, and which became common across Europe and North America through the duration of the temperature drop.)

[Image licensed under the Creative Commons Opioła jerzy, Dryas octopetala a4, CC BY-SA 3.0]

Of course, presented with such a conundrum, the first question that comes up is "Why did this happen?"  There are three main hypotheses:
  • As the Earth was warming up after the last major glaciation, a huge freshwater lake that had piled up behind an ice dam was suddenly emptied when the dam collapsed.  This lake, nicknamed "Lake Agassiz," emptied out through what are now the St. Lawrence and Mackenzie Rivers, and caused a slowdown (or complete cessation) of the thermohaline circulation.  Put simply, this is the engine that powers the Gulf Stream, which brings warm water northward and keeps the northeastern United States and most of western Europe relatively temperate.  When the flood occurred, the north end of the thermohaline circulation became too fresh to sink, and the whole system ground to a halt, propelling us into another ice age.  It was only after a thousand years had passed, and the lake water had adequately mixed with the ocean water, that the circulation rebooted and things warmed back up.
  • 12,900 years ago, the Earth was hit by an object from space -- probably either a comet or a meteorite -- and that collision flash-burned a significant fraction of the vegetation in northern North America.  The debris and ash blocked sunlight, cooling down the surface of the Earth and halting the warm-up we'd been experiencing in its tracks.  Eventually the ash settled out, the forests regrew, and the climate restabilized, but that took several centuries.
  • A supernova in the constellation of Vela created a burst of radiation that destroyed the Earth's ozone layer and killed most of the Earth's megafauna, including mammoths, mastodons, dire wolves, and several species of temperate-climate camels, rhinos, and hippos.  The gamma radiation striking the atmosphere caused a cascade of chemical reactions that disrupted the balance of nitrogen-containing compounds (such as nitrous oxide and nitrogen dioxide), and this caused a sudden and drastic temperature drop.
Each has some points in its favor.  The ice-dam proponents argue that the temperature drop wasn't as fast as you'd expect from something catastrophic like a collision or supernova, and that in fact the extinctions that occurred were in species that had already been declining for millennia.  Scientists supporting the impact hypothesis were buoyed by the discovery of a previously-unknown crater in Greenland -- but they've been unable to pinpoint its age any more accurately than "some time between three million and twelve thousand years ago."  The supernova enthusiasts point to the existence of "black mats" -- thin layers of the remnants of anaerobic organisms -- as evidence that something drastic happened to the atmosphere at the beginning of the Younger Dryas, and samples taken from it do seem to have skewed nitrogen content.  (This same evidence is considered support for the impact hypothesis, because there have been "microspherules" -- tiny spheres of melted and refrozen metal -- found in some of those boundary layers.)  But the black mats in different locations seem to date from different time periods, with only three of the thirteen studied being coincident with the Younger Dryas event.  And most of the black mats studied don't contain microspherules.

So the argument is still out there.  As far as my own opinion, I can only say that I'm neither a paleoclimatologist nor an astrophysicist, so am unqualified to weigh in (and my opinion wouldn't mean much anyway).  It seems like the dam collapse model is the one that currently has the most support, but -- like all science -- new information could tilt us toward one of the others.

Why does this come up with regards to our confidence in scientific models?  Not only because it's a great example of competing explanations and the fact that good scientists are willing to entertain the possibility of alternate solutions to the conundrums they study.  The idea for this post came to me because of another twist on the Younger Dryas -- this one from noted wingnut Graham Hancock, who says that the Younger Dryas event not only inconvenienced the camels and dire wolves, it also wiped out an advanced technological civilization...

... which gave rise to the myth of Atlantis.

So this is what I mean about levels of confidence.  No, we haven't been able to rule out two of the three models for the cause of the Younger Dryas with any real certainty.  But the fourth idea -- that whatever caused the event also destroyed Atlantis -- has nothing, not a shred of evidence, to support it.  As the brilliant skeptic Jason Colavito put it:
[R]egardless of whether a comet hit, the existence (or non-existence) of the comet implies nothing about the existence of Atlantis any more than it would unicorns or leprechauns. 
It remains a point of astonishment that the bones of megafauna that supposedly died in the comet strike turn up with regularity, but every human being and all of the buildings, tools, and material possessions of the lost Atlantis-like civilization were blasted clean off the face of the Earth, without a single trace remaining.  I have trouble imagining that a sloth can manage to have its bones preserved for all time, but not a single outpost of Atlantis had even a single bolt or screw remain.
As do I.  All unproven assertions are not on an equal footing.  And that's really the point of Ockham's Razor, isn't it?  The fastest way to winnow down competing ideas is to see which ones require you to make the most ad hoc assumptions.  And I'd put any of the three scientific explanations I mentioned above ahead of Hancock's assertion that the Younger Dryas event destroyed the lost civilization of Atlantis.

I'm perfectly willing to stay in uncertainty, indefinitely if need be, in the absence of convincing evidence one way or the other.  But in the case of explanations that require us to stretch credulity to the snapping point, I have no problem saying, "Nope.  That one isn't true."

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This week's Skeptophilia book recommendation is an entertaining one -- Bad Astronomy by astronomer and blogger Phil Plait.  Covering everything from Moon landing "hoax" claims to astrology, Plait takes a look at how credulity and wishful thinking have given rise to loony ideas about the universe we live in, and how those ideas simply refuse to die.

Along the way, Plait makes sure to teach some good astronomy, explaining why you can't hear sounds in space, why stars twinkle but planets don't, and how we've used indirect evidence to create a persuasive explanation for how the universe began.  His lucid style is both informative and entertaining, and although you'll sometimes laugh at how goofy the human race can be, you'll come away impressed by how much we've figured out.

[If you purchase the book from Amazon using the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to supporting Skeptophilia!]