Connect Yourself Before You Wreck Yourself, Redux (#103)

Revisiting an earlier missive on one hypothesis for pseudoscience.

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Much of my writing time over the past few weeks has been dedicated to catching up on book reviews, and penning a couple of talks I’ll be giving next week at the university. Since they’re relevant topics to share around the campfire, too, the plan is to share them with you in posts #105 and #106. However, it does mean for today, we’re going to jump in the ol’ DeLorean to a very early post - when the campfire was still just a spark, and many of you dear readers hadn’t yet found a place to gather around. (Slightly buffed up to match current style.)

I’m looking forward to getting back on track next week (#104) with a very timely science post, and then sharing these speeches with you.

As always, thanks for reading. 🔥

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Arguably, the biggest challenge we face in sharing science and having an impact in our communities is a lack of trust in credible sources.

But to tackle this problem, continuing to simple share evidence isn’t enough; we need to understand the root cause. Why is it that some people are willing to accept misinformation over the evidence produced by experts?

As I was thinking back recently to my own path through university, a particular event stands out that highlights one possible cause.

Figuring out your path post-high school is rarely simple - at least, it wasn’t for me. In early 2000, I had already switched degree programs for the 2000-01 year several times: from the concurrent BA/BSc program I started (wherein masochists attempt to complete two full undergraduate degrees in five years), to a BSc in organic chemistry, to a BA in psychology and French.

While I finally felt comfortable with the double major decision, I was still struggling to define the shape of my future path.

It was around this time - a few weeks following the end of our first year of university - that a friend and I weaseled our way into a professional nursing conference in another city. The keynote address was by Dr. Hunter Adams, also known as Patch Adams. We had both seen the movie in the last year - a movie which completely ignored the activism central to his work, choosing instead to focus on the more box-office friendly humorous aspects of his service delivery (and indeed, he still does clowning tours to other countries). Nonetheless, the inspiration for the film was going to be an hour away, and we needed to be there.

While I don’t remember the specific words he shared with us that day, I do remember the advocacy that he passionately expressed. Recognizing the diminishing humanity of the healthcare system he was in, and the structures it created and imposed on its users, he called for a radical new approach shaped by love of humanity and connection (a message that he continues to share to this day).

I wanted to be a part of that kind of change, and I wanted to be a part of this for others. So when I saw a recruitment advertisement for a Canadian naturopathy school soon after the event, I gave it more than a passing thought.

*Insert record scratch.*

(Okay, remember the part where I said I was struggling with defining my path forward? Plus, it was the millennium; we listened to Prozzak and wore glitter unironically for heaven’s sake.)

I didn’t get far with this train of thought, thankfully. (As delightfully warm as it sounds, naturopathy is unproven and not based in scientific evidence - c.f., Caulfield and Rachul, 2011.) But, when I think about current challenges in sharing evidence in a manner that is impactful, I recall this brief fugue state into the world of alternative “medicine”. I recall this time because I think the reasons “why” I explored this option are important data points. I was drawn to the field’s messages of human connection: treating people as a whole rather, than an isolated, problematic part.

While I don’t feel much empathy for those doing the exploiting, I feel a lot of empathy for those exploited. Especially when we are vulnerable (i.e., in poor health), we want an interaction where we are seen, heard, and validated as a whole person. We want a care relationship that addresses fears and anxieties. (Actually, I think this extends beyond just health and medicine, but to any sharing of science. People want their concerns heard and discussed respectfully; they want to participate, but don’t want to be made to feel stupid or insignificant.) If we are going to try and successfully share and implement good evidence, I think we need to remember that key motivation above all else.

We need meaningful connections.

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