Missives from the sixth dimension

Generally speaking, there are two things that rapidly identify a claim as the work of a crank: (1) saying that it explains everything; and (2) saying that it overturns all previous theories and models in one fell swoop.

Now, that's not to say there haven't been ideas that have blown away previous theories.  The heliocentric model of the Solar System, the germ theory of disease, Darwinian natural selection, genes and the role of DNA in heredity, Newtonian physics, quantum mechanics, James Clerk Maxwell's theories on electricity and magnetism, plate tectonics, relativity -- all of them were earthshattering, and each one caused a complete revision of what we thought we knew.

But you know what stands out about them?  How rare they are.  There might be a handful of others I've missed, but if you just count the ones I've named, from the earliest (the Copernican heliocentric model) in about 1520 to today, that's nine honest-to-goodness scientific revolutions in five hundred years.

Also, given the precision of our instruments and the rigor with which science is approached -- itself a relatively new thing -- the likelihood of our having missed something major that will "rewrite the textbooks" is pretty low.  (There may be one exception -- incorporating "dark matter" and "dark energy" into our model for physics.  There's a fair chance that when they're figured those out, we might see a revolution of no less magnitude than Einstein's General Theory of Relativity.  Of course, it's also possible that we'll account for them by physics we already know about.  Which it'll be, only time will tell.)

My point is, if there is an overturning of current scientific models, it's likely that the anomalous data and its explanation will come from within the realm of science, and not from a layperson waving his or her hands around.  And it will be a rare, headline-making event.

So the fact that there are hundreds of websites that claim to outline some major flaw in a current scientific model, and propose a solution to it, means that most likely all of them are wrong.  (As a commenter put on one of them I saw a while back, "Here are your next steps: (1) Write this up as a formal academic paper.  (2) Submit to peer review.  (3) Collect Nobel Prize.  After you've done all that, come back and we'll talk.")

Most of these sites, therefore, are ringing the changes on the same crazy claims.  But every once in a while there'll be one that is so out there, so bizarre, that it has merit simply on the basis of how creative it is and how earnest its creator seems to be.  Which is why today I'm going to tell you about: Mosheh's Unifying Field Theory.  Which, as he points out right in the title, is not only a Unifying Field Theory, it's a God Theory.

Whatever that means.

I encourage you to visit the website, because there's no way I can excerpt enough here to give you the full experience, but here's one sentence so you can get the flavor:

There is the suggestion given by evidence, and if energy was removed from a 3D space, then rather than just shrinking, it could be reduced into a 2D plane, and if energy was removed from a 2D plane, then "it" would become 1 dimensional, and if more energy was removed, it would become a zero dimensional object, not being zero, as in not existing, but zero as in having no potential energy, a zero energy state.

Right!  Sure!  What?

And I just have to include one of the illustrations, which are amazing:

My favorite part is in the lower right corner, wherein we learn that dinosaurs evidently evolved not only into birds but into "Grey Aliens."

There are so many other delightful features of this website that I don't want to spoil them, so you'll just have to go there and take a look.  I think my favorite part is under the "General Theory Outline" page, where he draws four-, five-, and six-dimensional objects.  If only the mathematicians had realized years ago that it was this easy!

So Mosheh's "dimensional field theory" is so wacky as to be kind of charming.  He's a crank, yes; he's wrong, almost certainly; but you have to admire his creativity and chutzpah.  As for me, I'm going to go back and poke around some more, and see if I can figure out what he means by saying that "an object's four-dimensional spin is made up of time and something."

****************************************

Life at the center

Appeal to Authority is simultaneously one of the simplest, and one of the trickiest, of the fallacies.

The simple part is that one shouldn't rely on someone else's word for a claim, without some demonstration of evidence in support.  Just saying "Neil de Grasse Tyson said so" isn't sufficient proof for a conjecture.

On the other hand, there are times when relying on authority makes sense.  If I claimed that Neil de Grasse Tyson was wrong in the realm of astronomy, the likelihood of my being wrong myself is nearly 100%.   Expertise is worth something, and Tyson's Ph.D. in astrophysics certainly gives his statements in that field considerable gravitas.

The problem is that when confronted with a confident-sounding authority, people turn their own brains off.   And the situation becomes even murkier when experts in one field start making pronouncements in a different one.

Take, for example, Robert Lanza, a medical researcher whose work in stem cells and regenerative medicine has led to groundbreaking advances in the treatment of hitherto incurable diseases.  His contributions to medical science are undeniably profound, and I would consider his opinion in the field of stem cell research about as close to unimpeachable as you could get.  But Lanza hasn't been content to stay within his area of specialization, and has ventured forth into the fringe areas of metaphysics -- joining people like Fritjof Capra in their quest to show that quantum physics has something to say about consciousness, souls, and life after death.

Let's start with Lanza's idea of a "biocentric universe," which is defined thusly:

Biocentrism states that life and biology are central to being, reality, and the cosmos— life creates the universe rather than the other way around.  It asserts that current theories of the physical world do not work, and can never be made to work, until they fully account for life and consciousness.  While physics is considered fundamental to the study of the universe, and chemistry fundamental to the study of life, biocentrism claims that scientists will need to place biology before the other sciences to produce a theory of everything.

Which puts me in mind of Wolfgang Pauli's famous quote, "This isn't right. This isn't even wrong."  Biocentrism isn't really a scientific theory, in that it makes no predictions, and therefore de facto isn't falsifiable.  And Lanza's reception on this topic has been chilly at best.  Physicist Lawrence Krauss said, "It may represent interesting philosophy, but it doesn't look, at first glance, as if it will change anything about science."  Physicist and science writer David Lindley agrees, calling biocentrism "a vague, inarticulate metaphor."

And if you needed further evidence of its lack of scientific rigor, I must also point out that Deepak Chopra loves biocentrism.  "(Lanza's) theory of biocentrism is consistent with the most ancient wisdom traditions of the world which says that consciousness conceives, governs, and becomes a physical world," Chopra writes.  "It is the ground of our Being in which both subjective and objective reality come into existence."

As a scientist, you know you're in trouble if you get support from Deepak Chopra.

And there's a further problem with venturing outside of your field of expertise.  If you make unsupported claims, then others will take your claims (with your name appended to them, of course) and send them even further out into the ether.  Which is what happened recently over at the site Learning Mind, where Lanza's ideas were said to prove that the soul exists, and death is an illusion:

(Lanza's) theory implies that death simply does not exist.  It is an illusion which arises in the minds of people. It exists because people identify themselves with their body.  They believe that the body is going to perish, sooner or later, thinking their consciousness will disappear too. 

In fact, consciousness exists outside of constraints of time and space.  It is able to be anywhere: in the human body and outside of it.  That fits well with the basic postulates of quantum mechanics science, according to which a certain particle can be present anywhere and an event can happen according to several, sometimes countless, ways.  

Lanza believes that multiple universes can exist simultaneously.  These universes contain multiple ways for possible scenarios to occur.  In one universe, the body can be dead.  And in another it continues to exist, absorbing consciousness which migrated into this universe.  This means that a dead person while traveling through the same tunnel ends up not in hell or in heaven, but in a similar world he or she once inhabited, but this time alive.  And so on, infinitely.

Which amounts to taking an untestable claim, whose merits are best left to the philosophers to discuss, and running right off a cliff with it.

As I've said more than once: quantum mechanics isn't some kind of fluffy, hand-waving speculation.  It is hard, evidence-based science.  The mathematical model that is the underpinning of this description of the universe is complex and difficult for the layperson to understand, but it is highly specific.  It describes the behavior of particles and waves, on the submicroscopic scale, making predictions that have been experimentally supported time after time.

[Image is in the Public Domain]

And that's all it does.   Quantum effects such as superposition, indeterminacy, and entanglement have extremely limited effects on the macroscopic world.  Particle physics has nothing to say about the existence of the soul, the afterlife, or any other religious or philosophical claim.  And even the "Many Worlds" hypothesis, which was seriously put forth as a way to explain the collapse of the wave function, has largely been shelved by everyone but the science fiction writers because its claims are completely untestable.

To return to my original point, Appeal to Authority is one of those fallacies that seem simpler than they actually turn out to be.  I have no doubt that Robert Lanza is a genius in the field of regenerative medicine, and I wouldn't hesitate to trust what he says in that realm.  But his pronouncements in the field of physics appear to me to be unfalsifiable speculation -- i.e., not scientific statements.  As such, biocentrism is no better than "intelligent design."  What Adam Lee, of Daylight Atheism, said about intelligent design could be applied equally well to biocentrism:

(A) hypothesis must make predictions that can be compared to the real world and determined to be either true or false, and there must be some imaginable evidence that could disprove it.  If an idea makes no predictions, makes predictions that cannot be unambiguously interpreted as either success or failure, or makes predictions that cannot be checked out even in principle, then it is not science.

But as such, I'm sure biocentrism is going to be as popular amongst the woo-woos as ID is amongst the fervently religious.  For them, "unfalsifiable" means "you can't prove we're wrong."

"Therefore we're right. q.e.d. and ha ha ha."

***************************************

This week's Skeptophilia book recommendation is brand new, and is as elegiac as it is inspiring -- David Attenborough's A Life on Our Planet: My Witness Statement and a Vision for the Future.

Attenborough is a familiar name, face, and (especially) voice to those of us who love nature documentaries.  Through series such as Our Planet, Life on Earth, and Planet Earth, he has brought into our homes the beauty of nature -- and its desperate fragility.

At 93, Attenborough's A Life on Our Planet is a fitting coda to his lifelong quest to spark wonder in our minds at the beauty that surrounds us, but at the same time wake us up to the perils of what we're doing to it.  His message isn't all doom and gloom; despite it all, he remains hopeful, and firm in his conviction that we can reverse our course and save what's left of the biodiversity of the Earth.  It's a poignant and evocative work -- something everyone who has been inspired by Attenborough for decades should put on their reading list.

[Note: if you purchase this book using the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to support Skeptophilia!]

The power of models

I get that scientific terminology can be daunting.  Scientists, and therefore scientific papers, have become so specialized that unless you are an expert, the vocabulary by itself can be an overwhelming barrier to understanding.  That only gets worse in disciplines like physics and chemistry, where complex mathematics throws another spanner into the works.  I have a B.S. in physics, enough credits for a second major in biology, and a minor in math, and am reasonably articulate, but just about every academic paper I've ever seen loses me within a couple of paragraphs, except for the two areas I know best -- population genetics and evolutionary biology.

So I'm not expecting laypeople to become experts in scientific jargon.  But there are two words I really wish everyone would familiarize themselves with -- theory and model.

Confusion over the first one is what gives rise to the "it's only a theory" *shrug* reaction a lot of people have when discussing the theory of evolution.  Theory, in scientific discussions, does not mean "a wild guess that could as easily be wrong as right."  In scientific parlance, a theory is an explanation of a natural phenomenon that has passed repeated tests and makes predictions that are in good accordance with the data.  This is why intelligent design creationism isn't a theory; it makes no predictions.  If things get complex, it defaults to "God did it," and the conversation ends.

In science, a model is a representation of a natural object, system, or phenomenon, often idealized or simplified, that can then be manipulated -- once again, to see if the results are consistent with observed data from the real world.  As an example, the computerized three-dimensional maps of the climate are models, breaking up the atmosphere into thousands of cubical regions and the land and ocean into square blocks of area, with specifications for atmospheric composition, heat absorption capacity for land and water, solar radiation input, and so on.  The software can take the known input parameters and then run a simulation to see if what comes out matches what we actually know of the real climate data (and they have, to a startling degree of accuracy, something that is simultaneously impressive and terrifying).

The problem with the idea of modeling is that to an outside observer, it may look like the scientists are just messing around -- playing Sims with the world, with no particular expectation that what they're doing has anything in common with reality.  This, of course, is the opposite of the truth -- if a model doesn't align very well with the natural world, it's rightly abandoned for one that works better.

Even models that seem to be a little bit out there are only retained because they describe a known part of the universe sufficiently well that their predictions can be useful for describing something not yet understood.  Take, for example, the paper last week in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences that used what's known about biochemistry to make a stab at the configuration and composition of the earliest proteins, molecules that were around 3.5 billion years ago -- produced abiotically before there were any living things on Earth.

In "Small Protein Folds at the Root of an Ancient Metabolic Network," Hagai Raanan, Saroj Poudel, Douglas Pike, Vikas Nanda, and Paul Falkowski, of Rutgers University, describe a sophisticated computer simulation that took what we know about the chemistry that is common to all living organisms (such as using oxidation/reduction reactions to power metabolism) and combined it with what is surmised about the conditions on the early Earth, and used it to infer what the earliest energy-transfer proteins looked like.  The authors write:

Life on Earth is driven by electron transfer reactions catalyzed by a suite of enzymes that comprise the superfamily of oxidoreductases (Enzyme Classification EC1).  Most modern oxidoreductases are complex in their structure and chemistry and must have evolved from a small set of ancient folds.  Ancient oxidoreductases from the Archean Eon between ca. 3.5 and 2.5 billion years ago have been long extinct, making it challenging to retrace evolution by sequence-based phylogeny or ancestral sequence reconstruction.  However, three-dimensional topologies of proteins change more slowly than sequences.  Using comparative structure and sequence profile-profile alignments, we quantify the similarity between proximal cofactor-binding folds and show that they are derived from a common ancestor.  We discovered that two recurring folds were central to the origin of metabolism: ferredoxin and Rossmann-like folds.  In turn, these two folds likely shared a common ancestor that, through duplication, recruitment, and diversification, evolved to facilitate electron transfer and catalysis at a very early stage in the origin of metabolism.

Here's one of the ancestral proteins the model generated:

Now, maybe you see this as a bunch of hand-waving in an intellectual vacuum.  After all, we have no way of going back 3.5 million years and checking to see if the model is correct.  But the key thing is that this was created within parameters of how we know proteins work, and what we see in the energy-transfer proteins of current organisms.  This model was very much constrained by reality -- meaning that its results have a really good chance of being accurate.

Further, like any good model (or theory, for that matter), it generates predictions -- in this case, what we might look for as a signature of emerging life on other planets.  "In the realm of deep-time evolutionary inference," the authors write, "we are necessarily limited to deducing what could have happened, rather than proving what did happen...  Ultimately, our goal is for the proposed effort to inform future NASA missions about detection of life on planetary bodies in habitable zones.  Our effort provides a unique window to potential planetary-scale chemical characteristics that might arise from abiotic chemistry, which must be understood if we are to recognize unique biosignatures on other worlds."

So models and theories aren't guesses, they're real-world descriptions, and the best ones give us deep insight into the workings of the universe.  As such, they are part of the scientist's stock-in-trade -- and essential to understand for laypeople who would like to know what's happening on the cutting edge of research.

*****************************

Any guesses as to what was the deadliest natural disaster in United States history?

I'd speculate that if a poll was taken on the street, the odds-on favorites would be Hurricane Katrina, Hurricane Camille, and the Great San Francisco Earthquake.  None of these are correct, though -- the answer is the 1900 Galveston hurricane, that killed an estimated nine thousand people and basically wiped the city of Galveston off the map.  (Galveston was on its way to becoming the busiest and fastest-growing city in Texas; the hurricane was instrumental in switching this hub to Houston, a move that was never undone.)

In the wonderful book Isaac's Storm, we read about Galveston Weather Bureau director Isaac Cline, who tried unsuccessfully to warn people about the approaching hurricane -- a failure which led to a massive overhaul of how weather information was distributed around the United States, and also spurred an effort toward more accurate forecasting.  But author Erik Larson doesn't make this simply about meteorology; it's a story about people, and brings into sharp focus how personalities can play a huge role in determining the outcome of natural events.

It's a gripping read, about a catastrophe that remarkably few people know about.  If you have any interest in weather, climate, or history, read Isaac's Storm -- you won't be able to put it down.

[Note: if you purchase this book using the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to support Skeptophilia!]

Missives from the sixth dimension

Generally speaking, there are two things that rapidly identify a claim as the work of a crank: (1) saying that it explains everything; and (2) saying that it overturns all previous theories and models in one fell swoop.

Now, that's not to say there haven't been ideas that have blown away previous theories.  The heliocentric model of the Solar System, the germ theory of disease, Darwinian natural selection, genes and the role of DNA in heredity, Newtonian physics, quantum mechanics, James Clerk Maxwell's theories on electricity and magnetism, plate tectonics, relativity -- all of them were earthshattering, and caused a complete revision of what we thought we knew.

But you know what stands out about them?  How rare they are.  There might be a handful of others I've missed, but if you just count the ones I've named, from the earliest (the Copernican heliocentric model) in about 1520 to today, that's nine honest-to-goodness scientific revolutions in five hundred years.

Also, given the precision of our instruments and the rigor with which science is approached -- itself a relatively new thing -- the likelihood of our having missed something major that will "rewrite the textbooks" is pretty low.  (There may be one exception -- incorporating "dark matter" and "dark energy" into our model for physics.  There's a fair chance that when they're figured out -- or, as I speculated in a recent post, are the impetus for a revision of our current model -- we might see a revolution of no less magnitude than Einstein's General Theory of Relativity.  Of course, it's also possible that we'll account for them by physics we already know about.  Which it'll be, only time will tell.)

My point is, if there is an overturning of current scientific models, it's likely the anomalous data and its explanation will come from within the realm of science, not from a layperson waving his or her hands around.  And it will be a rare, headline-making event.

So the fact that there are hundreds of websites that claim to outline some major flaw in a current scientific model, and propose a solution to it, means that most likely all of them are wrong.  (As a commenter put on one of them I saw a while back, "Here are your next steps: (1) Write this up as a formal academic paper.  (2) Submit to peer review.  (3) Collect Nobel Prize.  After you've done all that, come back and we'll talk.")

Most of these sites, therefore, are ringing the changes on the same crazy claims.  But every once in a while there'll be one that is so out there, so bizarre, that it has merit simply on the basis of how creative it is and how earnest its creator seems to be.  Which is why today I'm going to tell you about:  Mosheh's Unifying Field Theory.  Which, as he points out right in the title, is not only a Unifying Field Theory, it's a God Theory.

Whatever that means.

I encourage you to visit the website, because there's no way I can excerpt enough here to give you the full experience, but here's one sentence so you can get the flavor:

There is the suggestion given by evidence, and if energy was removed from a 3D space, then rather than just shrinking, it could be reduced into a 2D plane, and if energy was removed from a 2D plane, then "it" would become 1 dimensional, and if more energy was removed, it would become a zero dimensional object, not being zero, as in not existing, but zero as in having no potential energy, a zero energy state.

Right!  Sure!  What?

And I just have to include one of the illustrations, which are amazing:

My favorite part is in the lower right corner, wherein we learn that dinosaurs evidently evolved not only into birds but into "Grey Aliens."

There are so many other delightful features of this website that I don't want to spoil them, so you'll just have to go there and take a look.  I think my favorite part is under the "General Theory Outline" page, wherein he draws four-, five-, and six-dimensional objects.  If only the mathematicians had realized years ago that it was this easy!

So Mosheh's "dimensional field theory" is so wacky as to be kind of charming.  He's a crank, yes; he's wrong, almost certainly; but you have to admire his creativity and chutzpah.  As for me, I'm going to go back and poke around some more, and see if I can figure out what he means by saying that "an object's four-dimensional spin is made up of time and something."

**********************************

This week's Skeptophilia book recommendation is for any of my readers who, like me, grew up on Star Trek in any of its iterations -- The Physics of Star Trek by Lawrence Krauss.  In this delightful book, Krauss, a physicist at Arizona State University, looks into the feasibility of the canonical Star Trek technology, from the possible (the holodeck, phasers, cloaking devices) to the much less feasible (photon torpedoes, tricorders) to the probably impossible (transporters, replicators, and -- sadly -- warp drive).

Along the way you'll learn some physics, and have a lot of fun revisiting some of your favorite tropes from one of the most successful science fiction franchises ever invented, one that went far beyond the dreams of its creator, Gene Roddenberry -- one that truly went places where no one had gone before.

Imaginary beasts and made-to-order worlds

One general tendency I see amongst woo-woos of all types is a sense that the world has to be a certain way because it "feels like it must be so."  It goes beyond wishful thinking; it's not just a Pollyanna-ish "everything will turn out for the best."  It's more that they espouse an idea because it appeals to them on an emotional or intuitive level -- not because it lines up with what is scientifically demonstrable (and sometimes, despite the idea in question being demonstrably wrong).

I ran into an amusing example of this just yesterday, from the desk of the always-entertaining Nick Redfern.  Redfern, you might recall, is a frequent writer for Cryptomundo and Mysterious Universe, and is a particular aficionado of Bigfoot and other cryptids.  You'd think that eventually, cryptid-hunters would tire of the hunt after repeatedly bagging zero cryptids, and would give up and say, "Well, I guess we were wrong, after all."  But no: they keep at it, coming up with progressively more abstruse explanations about why the cryptids aren't showing up.  We have Linda Jo Martin's idea, that Bigfoot can avoid us because he's telepathic; Erich Kuersten, instead, makes the claim that Bigfoots are aliens, and when they hear us coming they escape in their spaceships.  But if you think those are wacky ideas, you haven't heard nothin' yet. Wait until you hear what Redfern has in store for us!

He thinks that we can't catch any cryptids, because they are created by our overactive imaginations.

Well, okay, you may be saying; isn't that what you've been telling us all along?  A bunch of cryptid hunters go out a-squatchin', and they see a shadow and hear a noise in the woods, and their overactive imaginations turn it into a Bigfoot?  No, that isn't what Redfern is saying at all; when I said he thinks that cryptids are "created by our overactive imaginations," I meant it in its most literal sense -- that we generate these beasts from our minds, and then they become real, real enough for other people to see.

"Could it be that just like Mothra and the saga of the The Mothman Prophecies," Redfern writes,  "The Valley of Gwangi unconsciously inspired people to muse upon the possibility of real flying reptiles in and around the Texas-Mexico border? And, as a result, did phantom-forms of such beasts step right out of the human imagination and achieve a form of ethereal existence in the real world? Granted, it’s a highly controversial theory, but it’s one that parallels very well with the theories pertaining to so-called Tulpas and thought-forms."

Well, I'm sorry, if you start out your argument by citing Mothra, you've lost some credibility points right from the get-go.  And someone really ought to sit down the entire seven billion human inhabitants of the Earth and clarify for them all, simultaneously, what the definition of the word "theory" is, because I'm getting sick and tired of doing it piecemeal.  A "theory" doesn't mean "some damnfool idea I just dreamed up."  It also doesn't mean "an idea that could just as easily be wrong as right," such as the way it's used in the young-earth creationist's favorite mantra, "Evolution is just a theory."  A theory is a scientific model that is well-supported by evidence, and has (thus far) stood the test of experiment.  So, therefore, Redfern's "theory" about actual flying reptiles coming from the minds people reading a novel about pterosaurs surviving until modern time is not a theory, it's a loony idea with no scientific backing whatsoever.

But that's not my main point, here; what I find the most curious about all of this is that Redfern et al. seem to have the idea that just because some bizarre version of reality is appealing to them on an emotional level, that means that the world must work that way.  The universe, then, is somehow made-to-order, constructed to fit what we want, need, or expect the universe to be.  I find this an odd stance, because (plentiful as my other faults are) this is never something I've fallen prey to.  It seemed abundantly clear to me, from as soon as I was old enough to consider the point, that there was no special reason why my desires that the world be a certain way would have any bearing at all on the way the world actually is.  "Wishin'," as my grandma use to say, "don't make it so."

Or, to quote (of all people!) Carlos Castañeda, from Journey to Ixtlan, "Why should the world be only as you think it is? Who gave you the authority to say so?" And if my ending my discussion of this topic with a quote from Castañeda doesn't introduce enough cognitive dissonance into your day to rock your Monday, I don't know what more I could do.