All posts by Brian Martin

Brian Martin is professor of social sciences at the University of Wollongong, Australia, and vice president of Whistleblowers Australia. He is the author of a dozen books and hundreds of articles on dissent, nonviolence, scientific controversies, democracy, information issues, education and other topics.

When they link you to something bad

When you are subject to “guilt by association,” what can you do?

In the early 1980s in Western countries around the world, there was a massive citizen mobilisation against nuclear war. Critics — defenders of Western military strength, including nuclear weapons — attacked the movement by claiming it was a tool of the Soviet Union, and that Communists were involved. These critics used the tactic of “guilt by association”: if Communists supported the movement, or were in the movement, this discredited the entire movement.

            Repressive governments use the same technique. They claim that opponents are funded by the CIA or are tools of other foreign powers.

            Guilt by association can also be used to discredit individuals. In the 1960s and 1970s, the leading US critic of fluoridation was Dr George Waldbott, a doctor and researcher, author of numerous publications. The American Dental Association compiled a dossier titled “Comments on the opponents of fluoridation” listing various individuals with far-out ideas, reactionary groups like the Ku Klux Klan — and a few scientists, including Waldbott, with damaging statements about him.

This dossier was circulated for years whenever Waldbott gave talks or testified to legislatures. It served to discredit him by associating him with crackpots and political fanatics. (See Scientific Knowledge in Controversy, and search for “dossier”.)

Reputations under attack

This is the third in a series of posts about dealing with unfair attacks on reputation. Since the 1970s, I’ve advised hundreds of people who contacted me about being defamed. Each case is different and the best option for one person may not work for someone else, so I will suggest several options for consideration. Other posts deal with false statements, derogatory labelling, malicious gossip and online attacks. See also “Being defamed Q&A“.

Guilt?

“Guilt by association” refers to a process by which the reputation of a person or group is hurt by being linked to a person, group, belief system or activity that is widely stigmatised. The word “guilt” is a bit misleading. The process might better be called “denigration by association” or “stigma by association.”

            This process is found in all sorts of circumstances. Some people will not buy or live in a house where a foul murder was committed. The house is tainted by association with the murder, and buyers don’t want to be tainted by association with the house. This connection might be called superstitious; it is founded on stigma by association. Another example: it is common for children of known criminals to be bullied at school. A moment’s thought should be enough to realise that the children are not responsible for the crimes of their parents.

Guilt by association is a powerful process because it operates without conscious deliberation. It is an automatic reaction and hence difficult to challenge.

            Guilt by association is an attack on reputation, and often quite an unfair one. It is not about some transgression or failing by you or your group, but rather just about your connection with someone or something that is negatively perceived. Logically, an association should be carefully probed to assess its significance. If left-wing or right-wing extremists support your cause, does it mean your cause is any less worthy? The onus of proof should be on those who make the attack but, alas, it’s usually the other way around. Those subject to a guilt-by-association attack need to figure out how to defend. There are several options.

Disown

The association may be so toxic that you want to distance yourself from the stigmatised linkage. Leaders of nonviolent movements might decide to condemn anyone or any group that uses violence, even those with the same aims.

            A guilt-by-association attack on a group can lead to internal strife. A political party might expel members with viewpoints hurting its reputation. The disowning option may come with a high cost.

Accept

Instead of disowning an association, a completely different approach is to accept it, even to welcome it. “Our group is open to anyone who shares our aims. We don’t discriminate.” Can you get away with this? It depends. The broader and stronger the group, the safer it is to use the acceptance option.

Counterattack

When criticised over your associations, you can counter by pointing to the critic’s unsavoury connections. If you’re linked to left-wing extremists, you can point to your critic’s links to right-wing extremists.

            This can be a potent response, especially when critics are obviously hypocritical. Nevertheless, there’s an important drawback in this response: it cements the use of guilt-by-association techniques.

Explain

You might try to explain why stigma from an association is not logical. You can say that just because you live next door to a convicted criminal doesn’t mean you’re less than honest. In fact, it might show your tolerance, generosity and forgiveness. Explanations are valuable when others listen and stop to think.

Ignore

Sometimes you can just ignore attempts to discredit you using guilt by association. Maybe you don’t care or maybe you realise that by defending against the implied allegations, you simply draw more attention to them.

Honour by association

A potent counter to stigma by association is to make connections with people or things that are highly valued. This is called reflected glory or honour by association. You didn’t do anything special but knowing a celebrity or brain surgeon gives you greater status.

            Honour by association is all around us. You might think you’re not susceptible to this process because, after all, it’s just an association and the positive spin-off is not sensible. Consider some examples.

  • Selfies taken with prestigious or good-looking people or locations.
  • Name-dropping: mentioning famous or accomplished people you’ve known, met or even just seen. The opposite is name-withholding: you don’t mention low-status individuals you’ve known.
  • In academic work, citing well-known intellectuals, but not obscure ones.
  • Having prestigious figures as patrons for your organisation.
  • Having high-status individuals as referees for job applications rather than lower-status individuals who know you better.
  • Barracking for a sporting team that is doing well, but dropping away when they’re not.
  • Choosing to live in a high-status suburb.
  • Attending a prestigious university rather than an equally good but lower status one.
  • Entering a respected occupation (doctor, lawyer).
  • Attending talks by famous people (rather than equally informative talks by others).
  • Owning a nice house, car, watch, clothes, etc., and making sure others see your possessions.
  • Being seen with good-looking or popular people.

These examples suggest the powerful role of honour by association in the way societies operate, especially ones driven by materialism, in which striving for status through possessions and titles, for getting ahead, takes precedence over the quest for a virtuous life. Honour by association is important in politics: politicians acquire status mainly through their positions, not their achievements. Indeed, being prominent is often thought of as an achievement itself, as in the case of celebrities who are famous for being well known.

            Although honour by association is often an unconscious process and used to serve dubious purposes, there is nothing wrong with using it for worthwhile goals. Consider the circumstances of people with intellectual disabilities, who are often shunned and looked down upon. Wolf Wolfensberger developed an approach called social role valorisation, or SRV, to enhance the lives of people with disabilities.


Wolf Wolfensberger

Part of SRV is promoting positive images through enhanced competencies and favourable associations. Honour by association comes from being well dressed in the company of valued individuals, living in a nice neighbourhood (and not next to a cemetery or waste dump), and having a respected job.

Implications

When your reputation is threatened by a guilt-by-association technique, you have a variety of options. Rather than responding quickly and emotionally, it’s worth choosing the option that serves your purposes most effectively. It might be tempting to respond to an attack with outrage, or to counterattack, but maybe remaining silent or calmly pointing out the lack of logic might be better.

            You can also use the technique of honour by association to enhance your reputation. And you can use this technique to help others. Assuming you and your group are respected, you can make a difference by aligning yourselves with others who are stigmatised. When it comes to the reputation game, we can all make a difference.

Brian Martin
bmartin@uow.edu.au

Thanks to Tonya Agostini, John Armstrong and Anneleis Humphries for useful comments.

When they call you a bad name – and hurt their cause

Sometimes using derogatory labels can be counterproductive.

My recent post “When they call you a bad name” suggested options for responding to demeaning labels, for example when someone calls you a fascist. By chance, a friend told me about her recent experience being part of a group targeted with abuse, and how this affected her. A key insight is that calling someone else a bad name can be bad for your cause.

            Here is her short account of her experience. Afterwards, I offer a few comments.

“This scum needs to be removed from our streets”: How to create enemies, by Claudia Carson-Clarke

            I have been involved in the human rights and peace movement for over 25 years. In my younger days I was involved in the usual peace and equality movement student politics, including attending peace protests against the Iraq war, and the fallout from the so-called War on Terror.

            Over the years I have watched the peace movement slowly falling to pieces, bit by bit. I am not surprised given the lack of strategic thinking and my recent experiences.

            On Saturday 3 December, I attended a lecture in Sydney by Dr Jordan Peterson.

            There was a stark police presence at the event, including mounted police and rows of police guarding the entrances. I had to go through a metal detector and bag check upon entry. I was prepared for this level of security.

            What I wasn’t prepared for was abuse hurled at me for simply wanting to attend this lecture.

            A small group of protestors had assembled at the main entrance to vilify anyone entering the lecture. Here was a group of people yelling at me, calling me a fascist, Nazi, racist, bigot. They were intimidating, just like the police.

            The protestors need to ask themselves, “What are we trying to achieve?” Listening to the live-stream from the safety of the building, I heard several citizen journalists ask people walking by what they thought of the protests. Every person said they didn’t even know what the protesters were talking about because they were simply shouting into the loudspeaker and they couldn’t understand what they were talking about. The people walking by simply wanted to get to their dinner or Christmas party events.

            One of the more disturbing elements was the violent rhetoric coming from the protestors, including calling attendees “scum” who needed to be “removed” from the streets.

            What were the protests trying to achieve by calling the young men who attended “incels” and misogynists, other than creating a political enemy? Did those protesting consider having a discussion with some of the young men about why they were attending and about their views about women?

            I did, and I found them to be thoughtful, courteous and curious minds. These young men found hope and purpose in the words of Dr Peterson. They wanted to clean their rooms as one of their rules for life.

            At the end of the day, the only people spewing violent rhetoric and hate were the protestors. Dr Peterson’s lecture was about meaning-making in life, and the importance of love. He discussed the psychology of play and the development of relationships as core to life and psychological development. Most importantly, he offered a stark warning of the road we are taking in relation to war, noting that we are much more technologically powerful than they were in the era of Hitler and Stalin. The core message was that of peace.

            Perhaps if the protestors had gone inside and listened to Dr Peterson, rather than denigrating him and everyone who went inside to listen, they would have developed their understanding. The protestors created their own enemies and ensured that those that attended felt intimidated and denigrated. To indiscriminatingly apply the label “fascist” to groups of people, some of them long involved in the peace movement, is just appalling.

            This is just a tragedy, not only for the peace and equality movement, but also for society in general. The protests only served to create more division and hatred. Clearly the strategy needs to change if the movement wishes to engage more people.

A few further thoughts from Brian

Claudia’s story is instructive. Shouting at people can be a bad idea, at least in terms of winning them over. So can trying to censor a speaker, especially a popular one. It might be better to try to understand why the speaker is popular and address the factors that make this possible.

            I have not read Jordan Peterson’s books nor listened to his talks, but I do know he has become a symbol of values detested by some of those on the left. That’s fine. But if someone is a symbol of values you detest, is vilification the best way to counter those values and promote your own? Would it be better to ignore Peterson’s talks, or organise a public meeting promoting your preferred values, or give leaflets to Peterson-talk attendees beforehand or afterwards, or interview them afterwards to learn about their experiences, or even attend his talk to better understand his appeal?

            To ask such questions is to begin the process of thinking strategically about protest. This includes formulating goals, considering the other side’s argument and taking into account how your actions will affect others. It includes considering the implicit, perhaps unintended, messages being sent by the protest and the way it is delivered.

            The anti-Peterson protesters can be understood as acting expressively, letting out their own emotions, anger and disgust in this case, and directing them at Peterson and those attending his talk. Protesting, it might be presumed, makes them feel better about themselves, by displaying their values and showing their fellow protesters their commitment to the cause. This can help build solidarity within their own groups and networks, but in this case it had a counterproductive effect on Claudia, and possibly on others who were subject to their verbal abuse.

            One lesson: calling someone a nasty name might make you feel righteous, but it might also make them think less of you — and your cause.

Brian Martin
bmartin@uow.edu.au

Thanks to Claudia for her text and additional information about the talk and protest. Thanks to Paula Arvela, Sharon Callaghan, Suzzanne Gray and Julia LeMonde for helpful suggestions. Several photos are taken from a video by @Chriscoveries.

When they call you a bad name

Fascist! Communist! Lunatic! Murderer! Paedophile!

What do you do when someone calls you a derogatory name, one that really hurts, one that might stick? Your reputation has come under attack. How can you resist?

            And it might not be just you. Your group could be labelled and have a hard time dealing with it.

            Labelling, including derogatory labelling, happens all the time, and it’s an important issue. Many people care more about their reputation than about their health or happiness. In the olden days when their honour was besmirched, gentlemen would issue demands to engage in duels, which sometimes were lethal. Today, you can go to court with a defamation suit. That’s slow, expensive and may not protect your reputation.

Reputations under attack

This is the second in a series of posts about dealing with unfair attacks on reputation. Since the 1970s, I’ve advised hundreds of people who contacted me about being defamed. Each case is different and the best option for one person may not work for someone else, so I will suggest several options for consideration. Other posts deal with false statements, guilt by association, malicious gossip and online attacks. See also “Being defamed Q&A“.

Understanding

It’s useful to understand what’s going on when labels are applied. Words have an explicit meaning, a denotation, and implied meanings or connotations. Derogatory labels are rich in negative connotations. The person who calls you a fascist may know little or nothing about fascism as an ideology or political system. They do know that “fascist” is a term of abuse. They use it to discredit you or simply to show they hold you in contempt. Maybe they are upset and want to take it out on you.

            The key is to realise that the label is less about being a description and more about associating you with the connotations. This is important. You might want to respond to the literal meaning, which is fine, but this misses the power of the label to shape people’s views — if the label sticks.

            It’s relatively easy to see the problems with labels when you don’t agree with them. You know you’re not a fascist and can laugh it off. However, when you agree that someone else really should be called a fascist, it can be difficult to appreciate the hurt and damage.

            Consider “conspiracy theorist.” This has a straightforward meaning: someone who believes conspiracies exist. But usually when someone is called a conspiracy theorist, the main effect, and often the main purpose, is to dismiss or discredit them. Conspiracy theorists are presumed to believe in crazy ideas and therefore must themselves be misguided or deluded.

Options

Suppose someone calls you a conspiracy theorist or dismisses one of your ideas by calling it a conspiracy theory. Consider your options.

Ignore

Maybe it doesn’t matter to you what the person says or thinks. Maybe they have no credibility themselves. It might be safer to ignore the insult because a reply may give it more attention and make people think there is something in it.

            Ignoring a label is not so easy when a friend uses it, when several others start using it or when it starts harming your credibility. If you want to win people to your ideas, you may need to respond.

Deny

You can say you’re not a conspiracy theorist. You can say, “I’m not a conspiracy theorist” and start explaining your beliefs (“Here’s some of the evidence”). In effect, you are denying the connotations of the label while asserting your ideas. There are many examples of this response, for example “I’m not a racist,” often followed by a comment that might be deemed racist.

            The value of this response is in trying to get beyond the label, to get others to discuss the substance of the issues. One disadvantage is implicitly accepting the negative connotations of the label, which means you will continue to come up against prejudicial attitudes.

Accept with pride

You can say, “Yes, I’m a conspiracy theorist — and here’s why.” You can use various techniques to counter the negativity attached to the term. Can you do this alone? Probably not. But over time, some terms can be turned from negatives to positives.

            Think of “Black” and “queer.” These were derogatory but eventually became more positive, accepted with pride. The transformation of the words’ connotations paralleled the change in the identity. If you’re part of a group with a stigmatised identity, you can help challenge the stigma by using the label with pride.

Counter-label

Rather than trying to defend, you can attack — and one way is to apply the same label to those who have labelled you. This only works for some names, but it does work for “conspiracy theorist.”

            A well-known conspiracy theory is that the US government organised the 9/11 attacks on the World Trade Towers in New York. This theory is often assumed to be absurd and used to discredit anyone who supposedly believes in any conspiracy theory. To turn this around, ask “Who do you think planned the 9/11 attacks?” If they say al-Qaeda or Osama Bin Laden, you say, “Ah, you believe it was a conspiracy. You’re a conspiracy theorist!” This is a good example because nearly everyone believes 9/11 involved a conspiracy. It’s just a question of which one.

            The conspiracy-theory label is seldom applied to the views of government officials. President George W. Bush and others warned that Saddam Hussein had or was getting nuclear weapons — this was the justification for the 2003 invasion of Iraq — but hardly anyone says, “Bush was a conspiracy theorist.”

            A counter-label can reveal inconsistencies in thinking. It might lead to a discussion of the meaning of the label.

Cite experts

Sometimes you may have the opportunity for a discussion, and you can refer to the views of experts. For racial epithets, you can mention that scientists say there is only a single human race and there are few genetic differences between ethnic groups.

            A group of philosophers, called the particularists, argue that conspiracy theories need to be assessed on their merits, just like any other theories. In other words, they argue that explanations involving conspiracies should not be dismissed out of hand, or assumed to reflect poor thinking, but instead evaluated like other sorts of explanations. This is a perfectly rational argument, but that’s not the point. What you do by raising this perspective is draw on the authority of experts.

Use humour

You may be able to distract or derail abusive comments with a humorous response. An off-beat or unexpected reply can sometimes make it difficult for the other person to maintain their mood of condemnation. You can make fun of the topic, make fun of yourself or introduce an absurdity that disrupts the serious intent of the attacker.

            “You know who I think was behind 9/11? Elvis.” If you pick your example carefully, the labeller may not know whether you’re being serious. “You mean you’re not a shape-shifting lizard like me?” This reply will only make sense to someone familiar with this particular conspiracy theory. Ideally, you can expose some of the lack of logic behind labelling and encourage thinking about what a conspiracy theory is.

Reconsider

On some occasions, you may decide there is a serious and helpful intent behind the label. Rather than resist, you might reconsider your position. This doesn’t mean you agree with the label or the derogatory intent behind it, but instead of resisting, you try to join the person criticising your views. This can be disconcerting to them, and they may not know whether you’re being serious.

            “I’m with you. Some conspiracy theories are goofy. We ought to check carefully before going down the conspiracy rabbit hole.”

            “My mother told me never to believe a conspiracy is involved when incompetence or pure chance could be an explanation.”

Conclusion

The examples here involve one-on-one interactions, but there are many other situations where derogatory labelling comes into play. The same sorts of responses are usually possible. A lot depends on the circumstances, your skills, your assessment of the attackers, and the topic. A humorous response may work when you’re called a conspiracy theorist, but maybe not when a racial or sexual epithet is deployed.

            Be creative, and be experimental. You can learn what works by trying out a variety of responses with different people and seeing what happens. If you’re able to strike up a conversation or stimulate some thinking or make the engagement less serious, you’ve been successful. If so, tell others about your techniques. We all need to know.

Brian Martin
bmartin@uow.edu.au

Thanks to Ben Case, Kelly Gates, Kurtis Hagen, Julia LeMonde and Erin Twyford for helpful comments.

When they say false things about you

What can you do when people spread false statements that harm your reputation?

It was going around social media that you lied about your personal relationships. There was a news story about your group, saying you supported violence. At a public meeting, a speaker called you a racist. There was another media story about your group, saying you received funding from vested interests. At a staff meeting, your boss accused you of bullying.

            None of it is true, yet the claims are being repeated all over the place. Your reputation is being trashed. What can you do?

            Before making accusations about lies and libel, and before rushing to your lawyer, pause — and consider your options.

Reputations under attack

This is the first in a series of posts about dealing with unfair attacks on reputation. Since the 1970s, I’ve advised hundreds of people who contacted me about being defamed. Each case is different and the best option for one person may not work for someone else, so I will suggest several options for consideration. Future posts deal with derogatory labels, guilt by association, malicious gossip and online attacks. See also “Being defamed Q&A“.

Understanding false claims

To appreciate what’s really going on, try to figure out what’s in the minds of those spreading the falsehoods. Could it be just a difference in perspective? Could there be some misinterpretation of actions or statements? Or is it something malicious?

            Your boss accuses you of bullying. Did you do something inappropriate? Or is the boss bullying you and others, and because you called out the boss’s obnoxious behaviour, you’re now a target?

            To say a claim is false is to make a statement about truth. Is that possible in an age of fake news, disinformation, and the postmodern rejection of ultimate truths? In academic circles, it’s accepted that all knowledge is provisional and open to challenge. Don’t worry about that, because for practical purposes the belief in truth remains strong in most circumstances, though often people disagree about where the truth lies.

            The trouble is that powerful groups try to impose their views as being true. That means bosses, media outlets and governments assert or assume their claims are true even though others — including you — can see they are obviously false.

Issues to consider

When confronted with false claims that damage your reputation, it’s tempting to jump to an immediate defence or to lash out in a counterattack, calling the other person a liar. Usually it’s better to pause and consider what you know about the situation.

            Is the other person — the one who makes the claims you think are false — sincere? Do they believe what they’re saying? This is an important question. If your boss says something damaging about your performance, maybe that’s what they really think, so it’s a matter of different perspectives, different information or a communication problem. Listen carefully. Then, if your boss seems sincere, it may be better to try to explain things. But if you think your boss is trying to get rid of you or trying to warp your perceptions — in other words, gaslighting — then you need to be more careful.

            If the other person is sincere, then they aren’t lying. A lie is an intentional falsehood or intentional withholding of the truth. It’s unwise to call someone a liar if they might believe what they’re saying. To further complicate matters, many lies are for good purposes.

            Another distinction is between misinformation and disinformation. Misinformation is information that’s incorrect, which may be due to ignorance, mistakes or sincere belief. Your boss can be misinformed while being concerned and supportive. Disinformation, on the other hand, is intentionally false. It is often used to describe covert government campaigns to discredit enemies or disrupt societies. The words misinformation, disinformation, fake news and post-truth are sometimes used as labels for attacking rather than accurate descriptions.

            You need to decide whether you’re being targeted or whether the false claims referred to you inadvertently or as a spin-off from other agendas. When the boss says your report is not up to scratch, is this harassment or is it because the boss needs to please some other player and your report gets in the way? When your group is attacked by a politician in a media story, is your group a special target or just being named for rhetorical purposes?

            You may not know the answers to all these questions, but it’s worth asking them and keeping in mind that you don’t know for sure what motivates other people’s actions. It’s usually better not to make too many assumptions, so you can adapt your responses as new information becomes available.

            After you’ve tried to understand what’s happening and why, you can consider options. There’s no single best option when you’re subject to false claims, so you need to think about everything you know about the people and the circumstances, and decide what to do.

Ignore

Although you may be upset or angry about falsehoods, sometimes it’s better to ignore them. At work, if co-workers or clients make comments about your performance, you might be better off not seeming to notice but just continuing with your efforts. Responding might seem to others like accepting the comments as potentially valid. Worse, it might simply draw more attention to them. By not responding, you also signal that you’re not easily rattled.

Defend

Counter the false statements. Just say they’re wrong. Present the evidence showing what’s actually going on.

            The boss says you’re not showing up on time and that your work rate is one of the lowest on the floor. You prepared for this. You have screenshots showing when you arrived every single day, and you have the stats on work rates in your team. So there!

            Defending can be effective when others respect honest information. It’s good news if they say, “Sorry, we were mistaken. You’re doing a good job.” On the other hand, if they make some new false claims, you might be subject to mobbing, a collective form of harassment. If so, the facts won’t matter.

            Should you defend by collecting information and providing as many facts as you can? It depends a lot on the circumstances. If there’s any risk of a false-claim attack, it’s nearly always valuable to obtain information to counter the falsehoods. At the workplace, you can collect information about your performance, testimonials from bosses, co-workers and customers, and comparative statistics. Just hope you never need it!

Explain

Instead of defending directly, you can explain what’s going on, for example why someone might want to make false claims. This is best done in a calm manner. If a co-worker says you’re not doing your job, you might explain that the workload has increased with no added staff and for the past month you’ve been doing two people’s jobs.

            Explanation is useful when others don’t know what’s been happening. It provides context so they can understand and make a judgement themselves. Rather than saying “You’re wrong” you’re in effect saying, “Here’s what you need to know so you can decide for yourself.”

            Explanation is an excellent technique for communicating to outsiders, those who have no stake in the conflict. You change their understanding from “You said, they said” to “Let’s see what’s really behind this difference in opinion.” However, those involved in a dispute may just see explanation as a form of special pleading.

Accept

In some cases, nasty comments and misleading statements contain a grain of truth. The boss might say you’re never on time and always too slow, which is a gross exaggeration given that you’re nearly always on time and usually work faster than others. A disarming response is to accept the criticism. “Thank you for your feedback. I appreciate your concern about my performance.” This sort of response draws on the perspective of the Stoics, a group of philosophers in ancient Greece, whose ideas remain relevant today.

            Chris Voss was an FBI negotiator who developed techniques that worked in the most difficult situations. He then found the same techniques applied in other negotiating situations, and wrote about his experiences in his book Never Split the Difference. When you confront someone, it can be powerful to start off by recounting every negative thought they have about you.

            If false statements about your performance have been circulated around your workplace, when you meet the boss or someone else you need to deal with, you can lead off with something like this: “You probably think I’m never on time.” After they nod, you say, “And you probably think that I’m one of the slowest workers on the floor.” Again they nod. The surprising thing about this approach is that it enables a more open and honest interaction.

Sue

“They defamed me. I’m going to sue.”

            The law of defamation is supposed to provide a remedy for damage to reputation. There are two main forms of defamation: slander refers to spoken defamation and libel to written defamation, except that broadcasts are in the libel category.

            There are two main problems with defamation law. First, it serves as a means of censorship. Second, it seldom restores reputations. In addition, it is slow, costly and procedural.

            The general rule is, don’t sue unless you have a lot of money and don’t mind losing it. It’s especially unwise to sue an organisation that has more money than you.

            When you sue, you become the attacker. Before, you might have had sympathy due to being treated unfairly. Now people’s sympathy may switch to the person you’ve sued.

            Suppose there’s a front-page news story that contains false and misleading statements about you and your group. You are accused of fraud, extreme political views, and lying. So you sue the media organisation for defamation. What’s going to happen? The most you can hope for is a published apology. It will be in small print in some obscure location on a website, and most readers won’t remember the original story.

            More often, though, you won’t receive an apology. Months later, after you’ve spent tens of thousands of dollars on lawyers, you might receive nothing or maybe a financial settlement. That means the organisation pays you something. That’s nice but doesn’t restore your reputation.

            Rather than suing, consider other options. You can write a polite letter for publication countering the accusations (defending) or giving the context (explaining). Or you can just let it go (ignoring), guessing that most people will forget that front-page story and that by suing, you may just make more people aware of it.

Conclusion

When others make false statements about you, it can be extremely upsetting. Your reputation is at stake, and it’s totally unfair to be attacked with incorrect, misleading or manufactured information presented as if it’s the truth.

            It’s tempting to reply immediately, while you’re angry and upset. It’s better to wait until you can calmly consider options. If possible, seek advice from people you trust, especially people who’ve been through a similar ordeal. Be especially cautious about defending, in case you draw more attention to the falsehoods, and don’t take legal action unless you know for sure that it has worked well for others in similar situations.

            If you care about your reputation, and the reputation of your group, remember that people are influenced by what you do. That includes how you respond to attacks. If you seem generous, understanding and informative, you have a better chance of making a good impression. And you set a good example.

Brian Martin
bmartin@uow.edu.au

Thanks to Kelly Gates and Suzzanne Gray for helpful comments.

A message from the Turtles

A new book offers the best available critique of vaccination orthodoxy. 

(This is a long review. To skip the preliminaries, go to “Turtles enter the fray.”)

The vaccination debate

In 2010, I began writing about the vaccination debate — the public debate over the benefits, risks, ethics and politics of vaccines. This was long before Covid-19, so nearly all the debate was about childhood vaccines for diseases like polio, measles, diphtheria, and tetanus.

            I came to this issue having previously written about disputes over nuclear power, pesticides, fluoridation, nuclear winter and the origin of AIDS. In the field of science and technology studies or STS, these are called scientific controversies. They typically involve striking disagreements between both scientists and laypeople, and aren’t just about science. They also involve disagreements over ethics, decision-making and values such as freedom.

            In studying the vaccination issue, my purpose is not to take a side but to understand the dynamics of the controversy, including the players, their moves and claims. I also have another purpose, which I’ll come to.

            There are remarkable similarities between different scientific controversies. They typically pit a powerful establishment, supported by governments or corporations and most experts, against citizen opponents, backed by a small number of dissident experts. This at least is the configuration in debates over nuclear power, pesticides, fluoridation, genetically modified organisms, microwaves — and vaccination. There are two important exceptions, where most experts oppose a powerful establishment: smoking and climate change.

            In every controversy, it is possible to examine public campaigning and expert scientific commentary. In public campaigning, it is common to find mistakes, exaggeration, misunderstandings and misinformation. However, judging what is a mistake is not always easy, because partisans on one side or the other may challenge what seems like an obvious statement or assumption. For example, I refer to the “vaccination debate” but some proponents say there is no debate and any disagreement with vaccination is misinformed or worse.

            Before proceeding, I had better explain my own position. I do not have strong views in favour of or opposed to vaccination. As noted, my interest in the issue is as a social scientist, to learn about the way the debate proceeds. My other interest in the issue is to defend free speech on controversial social issues. I believe in the value of open dialogue, discussion and debate. If vaccines are highly beneficial and extremely safe, criticism should be welcomed so that it can be clearly and accurately countered. If vaccines have shortcomings, criticism is valuable for highlighting them, hopefully leading to better products and practices.

Writing about the vaccination debate

I started writing articles about the vaccination debate, in particular about a most amazing attack on an Australian vaccine-critical group. By doing this, I came under attack myself. This was wonderful! As a social scientist studying a public scientific controversy, it is often difficult to obtain first-hand information. Social researchers usually rely on published materials, interviews and surveys, but remain separate from the action. I didn’t just have a front-row seat: I was on the playing field. Some others were treating me like a player.

            In writing scholarly articles, I gradually developed a standard way of introducing the vaccination debate in a few words. Here’s one example, from 2012:

Vaccination against infectious diseases is supported by medical professions worldwide (Andre, et al., 2008; Offit and Bell, 2003), and in most countries there is a standard set of vaccinations given to children. In the face of this medical orthodoxy, a small number of citizens’ groups and professionals present a contrary position, arguing that the benefits of vaccination have been overestimated and that there are significant risks to individuals and society, with recorded cases of seriously affected children (Habakus and Holland, 2011; Halvorsen, 2007).

You can see that for the vaccination-positive view, I gave two references, and likewise for the vaccine-critical view. In each case, I wanted to give solid, credible references. Reflecting on how I proceeded, my implicit criteria were that the source should be comprehensive, reasoned, authoritative and readable.

  • Comprehensive: the source needs to address all or most of the vaccines and the scientific and medical issues in the debate.
  • Reasoned: evidence and arguments should be presented in a careful, logical, systematic way.
  • Authoritative: the authors and the content should be credible.
  • Readable: the writing should be understandable by non-experts.

It’s hard to satisfy all these criteria. For example, there is a vast quantity of vaccination-positive materials in scientific and medical journals, but most of it is specialised (not comprehensive) and aimed at experts (not readable).

Vaccination-positive sources

For the case for vaccination, the book by Paul A. Offit and Louis M. Bell was an ideal reference. Titled Vaccines: What You Should Know, it is aimed at a general audience, covers the full gamut of vaccines and comes across as informative. Paul Offit is a doctor and professor and a prominent advocate of vaccination, and Louis Bell is also a doctor. Some of Offit’s other works include bitter attacks against critics, but Vaccines does not enter this territory.

            A correspondent alerted me to an article by F. E. Andre and eleven co-authors. It is titled “Vaccination greatly reduces disease, disability, death and inequity worldwide,” and published in the Bulletin of the World Health Organization. The title alone suggests the article’s aim to be comprehensive, and the authors are a slew of experts in the field. It scores less on readability.

            Later I cited another source: Vaccines. The seventh edition of 2018 is edited by Stanley A. Plotkin, Walter A. Orenstein, Paul A. Offit and Kathryn Edwards. This is a massive text, aimed at specialists. It is definitely comprehensive, and the editors have high status in the field. It is factual rather than overtly partisan but is not bedtime reading for non-experts. It is good for pointing to the vast quantity of research supporting vaccination.

            No doubt there are other good sources. These were the ones I found most useful. My purpose was to point to credible material supportive of vaccination. I guessed that few readers would bother to look up any of these sources, but they needed to know they existed.

Vaccine-critical sources

To show the existence of a dispute over vaccination at the level of science, I wanted to cite sources that had some parallels with the vaccination-positive ones. That means ones that are comprehensive, reasoned, authoritative and readable. At this point, it is useful to note a crucial asymmetry in the debate. Because nearly all scientific and medical authorities support government vaccination policies and practices, it is unlikely there will be any authoritative critics, because to be a critic is to become a target of attacks on credibility.

            You’ll note that I’ve avoided using the term “anti-vaccination.” It is misleading, and in the shortened form “anti-vax” has been turned into a term of denigration. Anyone who deviates from the official vaccination position may be called an anti-vaxxer. This includes parents who space out their children’s vaccines or choose some vaccines but not others. It includes researchers who raise any questions or reservations about vaccination. To call someone “anti-vax” suggests they are opposed to all vaccines, which is misleading. Therefore, I avoid the label “anti-vaccination” for both its imprecision and its derogatory connotations. Although “pro-vaccination” does not have negative connotations, I’ve also avoided it.

            For vaccine-critical sources, I found a book by Richard Halvorsen titled The Truth about Vaccines.

Halvorsen is a doctor who researched the issues himself. Halvorsen is not opposed to vaccines — he gives them. But he wanted to find out the full story, and so addresses both the history of vaccination and each vaccine in turn, focusing on Britain and its policies and experiences. He provides lots of references. His message is to be aware and consider the evidence, not to make a knee-jerk decision either way. Halvorsen’s book, now in its fourth edition titled Vaccines: Making the Right Choice for Your Child, is comprehensive, reasoned and readable. It somewhat lacks authority in that he is not an established researcher in a relevant field such as virology or epidemiology.

            Another useful critical source is Vaccine Epidemic, edited by Louise Kuo Habakus and Mary Holland. It covers a wide range of issues, ranging from law and ethics to the politics of science. However, compared with Halvorsen’s book, much less of Vaccine Epidemic addresses the scientific evidence about vaccination.

            In 2018, a comprehensive critique of vaccination was published: Mateja Cernic’s Ideological Constructs of Vaccination. It is a revised and expanded version of her PhD thesis at the School of Advanced Social Studies in Slovenia. The book is an intriguing combination of massive documentation and strong statements. It includes a treatment of social aspects of medicine and vaccination, covering discourses, ideologies, representations of vaccination critics, power and abuses of power by medical and state authorities. The longest chapter is a challenge to the orthodox view about the effectiveness and safety of vaccination, covering infectious disease mortality rates, the immune system, adverse events, safety and efficacy studies, contamination of vaccines, monitoring of adverse events, and herd immunity. This would seem to be a powerful challenge, yet it has received little attention, perhaps in part because it is not so easy to read, and the author is a sociologist, someone outside the medical establishment.

Turtles enter the fray

Being on the lookout for good sources on the pros and cons of vaccination, I obtained a copy of a book published in 2022 titled Turtles All the Way Down. The title, at first glance, sounds peculiar. The subtitle is more revealing: Vaccine Science and Myth. For convenience, I will refer to it as Turtles.

            The book arrived with plenty of advance publicity. It was published in 2019 in Israel, in Hebrew, and made a splash. I read that it had received a positive review in an Israeli medical journal, a review written by Ety Elisha and Natti Ronel. Well, well. I knew them: we were collaborating, along with two others, on a paper about suppression of critics of official views about Covid-19. It’s a small world.

            An unusual aspect of Turtles is that its authors are anonymous. They chose not to reveal their identities to avoid ad hominem attacks. Also, if they worked within the health system, they could be subject to reprisals in their careers. That’s exactly what I had been studying for the past decade concerning vaccination, and even longer for other scientific controversies. Remaining anonymous makes a lot of sense to me. Indeed, it’s what I recommend for whistleblowers, whenever possible. The authors call themselves The Turtles Team or TTT.

            Turtles is a frontal attack on the assumption that the standard childhood vaccination programme is both safe and effective. This assumption is at the core of the vaccination paradigm, the framework that guides thinking and research in the area.

            To illustrate the contrast between TTT’s analysis and the official position on vaccination, I found a short article that nicely articulates the orthodox view, an article you can read yourself. Titled “Simply put: vaccination saves lives,” it was published in 2017 in PNAS, the Proceedings of the National Academy of Science, a prestigious long-standing US scientific journal. The authors are Walter Orenstein and Rafi Ahmed, both from Emory University. Orenstein, from the Department of Medicine, is also one of the four co-editors of the text Vaccines, which I mentioned earlier as an authoritative source for the vaccination-positive view. I will refer to Orenstein and Ahmed’s article to highlight assumptions and emphases in the orthodox position on vaccination, the position challenged by the Turtles Team.

Safety

Let’s start with safety. Orenstein and Ahmed do not explicitly discuss adverse events caused by vaccination, but instead implicitly dismiss them by countering concerns that vaccines cause autism. Perhaps their assumption is that if the autism claims don’t stand up, less well-known ones won’t either.

            A prime claim in Turtles is that the safety of standard vaccines has never been established, indeed that assumptions or claims about safety have no foundation. How could this be? TTT begin by examining the vaccine approval process and the randomised controlled trials that are required, clearly and carefully explaining what’s involved. In phase 3 trials, there are two groups of children. One group is given the vaccine, let’s say a vaccine for chickenpox, and the other group is given a placebo: they are injected with a passive or neutral substance. No one, including the researchers and the children, is supposed to know which children get the vaccine and which get the placebo. When testing for safety, the numbers of adverse events — including seizures, breathing difficulties, allergic reactions, paralysis, severe illness and death — in each group are noted. If the frequency of adverse events in the vaccine group is not much higher than the frequency of adverse events in the placebo group then, after other factors are taken into account, the vaccine is assessed to be safe.

            The problem, TTT say, is that the placebos in phase 3 trials of childhood vaccines, before they are licensed for use, are not inert. The researchers doing the safety studies could have used a saline solution for the placebo, but instead they use other vaccines. This would be fine if the other vaccine had been shown to be totally safe but, according to TTT, no vaccines have been tested against inert placebos, and hence the clinical trials don’t actually show how safe the vaccine is. This is a striking claim, and also a daring one given that a single counterexample, a single study, might undermine it. A safer claim by TTT would be that despite extensive searching, they have not discovered a phase 3 trial of a vaccine against an inert placebo.

            Note that TTT don’t make a detailed claim about the rate of adverse events. They just say the clinical trials haven’t shown vaccines to be safe. As they put it, “The true rate of adverse events of routine childhood vaccines is virtually unknown; therefore, there is no scientific basis for claiming they’re safe.” (p. 66)

Undone science

Clinical trials are only one way to examine the safety of vaccines. Another possibility is to undertake biological and physiological research into adverse events. TTT examine studies in this area, or rather their absence. Their conclusion is that the generous funders of vaccine research — there is a vast amount of research in the field — seem remarkably averse to adverse-events research into diagnoses, causal mechanisms, individual susceptibilities, and therapies. By not undertaking studies to better understand damage from vaccination programmes, it remains possible to say vaccination is safe.

            David Hess, an anthropologist and sociologist at Vanderbilt University, and my friend and collaborator, introduced the idea of undone science. This refers to research that could be done, and furthermore that citizen activists say should be done, but which is neither funded nor carried out because the findings might be unwelcome to powerful groups with vested interests. There are many examples, especially on environmental and health topics. For example, the sweetener mannitol may have benefits for treating Parkinson’s disease, but because mannitol cannot be patented, companies didn’t want to research it.

            TTT do not refer to Hess’s analysis of undone science. The team sticks to scientific and medical sources and does not engage with social-science writings. Nevertheless, the team’s examination fits the picture of undone science perfectly.

            What about the reporting of vaccine adverse events? Anyone following this issue will soon hear about VAERS, the Vaccine Adverse Event Reporting System, where harmful side effects of vaccines can be reported. If there aren’t many reports, that should indicate that vaccines are safe. But, according to TTT, there’s a problem, actually several problems. Although reporting of cases of many infectious diseases is mandatory, when it comes to potential adverse events from vaccines, reporting is voluntary, and doctors are not compensated for making them. Furthermore, many doctors are reluctant to make reports, telling patients that their conditions could not be due to vaccines but are just a coincidence. This suggests considerable underreporting. Some estimates are that only one in ten, or one in a hundred, adverse events are reported.

            So why not improve the rate and quality of reporting to determine how accurate VAERS actually is? There was a study to show how this could be done but the CDC — Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, the US body charged with vaccination recommendations — stopped engaging with the researchers, without explaining why. TTT argue that the CDC has shown no interest in improving VAERS.

            TTT’s next target is epidemiological studies showing a low rate of adverse events. Imagine collecting data from a large population about the incidence of a particular condition, let’s say high blood pressure. Then collect data about people’s ages, incomes, diets and anything else you can think of that might be relevant. By looking for statistical relations between the health condition and other factors, you might be able to notice, for example, that people’s blood pressure gets higher as they get older, or that it’s higher for people who eat lots of meat, or whatever. These are correlations, but they don’t prove causation. Maybe people who eat lots of meat get less exercise: it could be that lack of exercise is the main factor responsible for high blood pressure. Or it could be the salt in the meat dishes. You can see this gets quite complicated.

            TTT provide a primer on epidemiology, explaining the basic ideas clearly and simply. They then offer a damning indictment of epidemiological studies about vaccine safety, arguing they are designed to show no correlations between vaccines and adverse events. This is serious. TTT closely examine five major studies. Based on their examination, they suggest the studies are biased by design or execution, using defective research methods, relying on unsubstantiated data, omitting essential data, making meaningless calculations, dismissing unwelcome findings and exaggerating the significance of the findings.

            Remember that Orenstein and Ahmed in their article “Simply put: vaccination saves lives” did not explicitly mention adverse events caused by vaccines, but implicitly dealt with them by dismissing a study by Andrew Wakefield and 12 collaborators about the possible connection between the MMR triple vaccine and autism. One of the epidemiological studies often cited as showing there is no such connection is by Madsen and colleagues. This is one of the “doctored” studies that TTT analyse, showing systematic shortcomings.

More undone science

TTT next examine what they call “the studies that will never be done.” An obvious way to investigate the overall safety of the entire vaccination schedule is to compare the health of two groups of children that are as similar as possible except in one respect: one group receives all recommended childhood vaccines and the other group receives no vaccines at all. Simple! Such a study would gather all the benefits and risks of vaccines, the benefits from reduced incidence of infectious disease and the risks from adverse events, and anything else, including beneficial or harmful effects not normally considered. A study like this showing the benefits of vaccination would be a powerful way to encourage parents to have their children vaccinated. But, perhaps surprisingly, such a study has never been undertaken by medical authorities. (There are some small studies by vaccine critics showing unvaccinated children have better health.)

            This is the most striking example of undone science in the vaccination arena. A plausible reason is that proponents are afraid the results might not support vaccination, or not support it as much as they hope. TTT go further, suggesting that the CDC has the data and therefore comparative studies may have been quietly done but never published because the results do not support vaccination. This is speculative. Another explanation derives from the vaccination paradigm: proponents operate within a framework that assumes vaccines are vital for health.


Historian-of-science Thomas Kuhn introduced the idea of scientific paradigms

Given this belief, there is no need for further studies to see whether vaccines are beneficial. In fact, publicity about doing such studies might generate alarm, by making people think there is some reason to doubt the vaccination programme. Within the assumptions of the paradigm, this is a reasonable concern. However, it does mean that critics can continue to point to the absence of definitive studies showing that the net benefits of receiving all recommended childhood vaccines are greater than having no vaccines at all.

            I’ve referred to the “vaccination schedule.” In guidelines for childhood vaccination, there are targets for particular vaccines at specific ages, for example, in the US, hepatitis B at birth, one month and six months. The schedule is another target in Turtles. For example, in the usual schedule, several vaccines are given in a single visit. Some parents prefer to space out the vaccines. Is there sound evidence for the safety of giving multiple vaccines at the same time? TTT say no.


A vaccination schedule

            Given TTT’s sustained critique of assumptions about vaccine safety, does this mean that vaccines are unsafe? This depends on what exactly is meant by unsafe. Despite statements that “vaccines are safe,” careful vaccination advocates always acknowledge adverse events, but say they are extremely rare. What TTT have done is show that the research behind the claim that risks are extremely low is simply not there. They show that research about adverse events is either flawed or not done at all. But what if studies were carried out to accurately determine the rate and significance of adverse events? One possibility would be that the adverse events would be shockingly frequent, validating the worst fears of vaccine critics. But another possibility is that harmful effects would be modest, perhaps higher than ones currently acknowledged but not high enough to outweigh benefits. TTT may have shown that the science of vaccine safety lacks foundations, but they haven’t attempted to show what the science would say if it did have a solid foundation. By the nature of undone science, no one can know for sure. But we do know who is resisting doing definitive studies.

Benefits

In the usual slogan of “Vaccination saves lives,” the benefits are assumed to outweigh the risks. There is a sleight of hand here in referring to “vaccination” rather than individual vaccines. It is quite possible that a group of vaccines reduces the death rate but some specific vaccines cause more harm than benefit.

            Orenstein and Ahmed’s opening sentence is “Few measures in public health can compare with the impact of vaccines.” The Turtles Team challenges this claim. They provide figures showing that deaths and illnesses from infectious diseases were in rapid decline before mass vaccination was introduced, and argue that most of the decline in these diseases was due to other measures that improved public health, including clean water, good diet, better hygiene and a higher material standard of living.

            Orenstein and Ahmed provide a table showing the decline in annual morbidity (ill health) for vaccine-preventable diseases. It shows, for example, that measles morbidity declined by more than 99%. From what? Their base figure is the “20th Century annual morbidity” which they compare to reported cases in 2016. What they don’t provide is a comparison of morbidity before and after the introduction of mass vaccination. See below for more on this.

            These arguments are not new. They were presented, most prominently, by Thomas McKeown, and have been cited repeatedly by vaccine critics. Despite this, vaccine proponents seldom mention these arguments. Orenstein and Ahmed certainly do not. I wish vaccine advocates would provide a cogent rebuttal of the work of McKeown and others who question the scale of the benefits of vaccination. So far as the public debate is concerned, this might be called an “undone refutation.”

            You can see that the slogan “vaccination saves lives” is suspect if the benefits have been exaggerated and the harms undercounted. But TTT are not finished. There is one more important claim to address.

Herd immunity

Proponents argue that being vaccinated primes the immune system, reducing the risk of catching the targeted disease. They also argue that when most people have vaccine-induced immunity, others — including people who can’t be vaccinated — are also protected. For a virus to spread, it needs to encounter susceptible hosts: others who can be infected. If most people are immune to the virus, the disease outbreak will die out. This process protects the whole population, the “herd,” a collective benefit from sufficiently high levels of immunity in the community.

            Vaccine proponents make a big deal about herd immunity. It provides a moral imperative to be vaccinated and to promote vaccination, including through mandates. Orenstein and Ahmed devote a considerable portion of their short article to herd immunity, complete with a colourful diagram.

They write that herd immunity “provides the rationale for interventions to achieve high population immunity” including “mandates for immunization requirements for attending school.”

            For years I’ve read the arguments for and against herd immunity. Vaccine proponents almost invariably raise it, sometimes at such length that people gain the false impression that the main benefit of receiving a vaccine is not to yourself but to others. The result of this impression is that vaccination is sold, and often perceived, as altruistic, which means those who question vaccination, or are not vaccinated, can be painted as selfish.

            I wondered why herd immunity plays such a high profile in arguments for vaccination but analogous concepts are less prominent concerning other public health interventions. By analogous concept, I mean the idea that health-related behaviours benefiting the individual can also benefit others in the community. The example I find most compelling concerns alcohol. Not drinking alcohol benefits one’s own health by reducing the risk of cirrhosis of the liver, pancreatitis, cancer and other maladies (partially counteracted by a few health benefits). Not drinking also reduces the harm to others caused by drunk driving and domestic violence. A community with less drinking is a healthier and safer community. There is more to be said about the pros and cons of alcohol, and I’m not making an argument for prohibition or abstention. The point is that the collective-benefit argument does not play such a big role in alcohol debates.

            Turning to writing by vaccine critics, it’s possible to find critiques of herd immunity, with arguments that it doesn’t exist or is irrelevant.

            So is herd immunity the most wonderful thing since sliced bread, or fake news? I don’t remember seeing an intermediate view — until reading Turtles. TTT systematically examine the evidence for and against herd immunity for each of 14 vaccines, from tetanus to measles. They conclude that, with sufficient coverage, five of them may confer herd immunity, whereas the others probably will not, or that their protection is not relevant or beneficial to children. It was refreshing to encounter an analysis that independently follows the evidence and doesn’t end up purely in one of the two warring camps.

Remember that Orenstein and Ahmed provided figures showing the measles vaccine reduced disease morbidity by over 99%. TTT agree that the vaccine reduced morbidity through herd immunity, though perhaps not by this percentage. Some vaccine critics may find this assessment unwelcome.

            TTT’s analysis shows the value of making careful assessments of different vaccines, each one with specific considerations and complications. Rather than follow Orenstein and Ahmed in saying “vaccination saves lives,” the question should be whether specific vaccines save lives, and beyond this who benefits and who suffers harm.

            To question vaccine-induced herd immunity is to question the rationale for coercive means to promote vaccination, for example requirements for attending school. Even for vaccines providing herd immunity, an assessment of the overall benefit needs to take into account harmful side effects. As TTT put it, “in the absence of solid evidence for a positive net benefit for individual vaccines, as well as the totality of childhood vaccination programs, there is no moral justification for mandating vaccination, or enforcing it in any other way.” (p. 367)

Polio

In 1990, I began studying the debate over the origin of AIDS. In particular, I became interested in the hypothesis that AIDS could have started as a result of contaminated oral polio vaccines used in central Africa in the late 1950s. Even if this hypothesis is correct, it says nothing about the safety of today’s vaccines, so the origin-of-AIDS debate is not relevant to the arguments in Turtles. Anyway, in the course of studying the polio-vaccine theory of the origin of AIDS, I read various studies of polio, including dissident views about its cause. One of those dissident views is that many or most cases of what we call poliomyelitis, a serious paralytic disease, are due to exposure to pesticides.

            Polio has long had a high profile, first as a disease to be feared and then as one of the great triumphs of vaccine research. In the 1950s, Jonas Salk developed a vaccine that was injected. Then Albert Sabin developed an oral vaccine, typically taken with a sugar cube. I vaguely remember having this vaccine when I was in primary school. The struggle to eradicate polio is one of the longest-running sagas in vaccination lore. As you can imagine, the idea that pesticides are the main cause is not likely to receive a warm welcome from the medical establishment.

            Turtles provides the clearest exposition of this idea that I’ve encountered. In a long chapter, TTT systematically lay out a series of open questions and contradictions in the official story about polio, presenting the standard view and an alternative explanation based on pesticide exposure. For example, they ask “Why did most of the early polio outbreaks occur in sparsely populated rural areas rather than in the large and crowded metropolitan areas?” The standard view about polio, which assumes the contagious spread of the poliovirus, cannot explain this. The alternative view gives this explanation: “Farming communities were the first to be poisoned by the use of toxic pesticides.” All up, TTT list 19 mysteries not explained by the standard view but apparently explained by pesticides being the primary factor in paralytic polio.


DDT spraying in the 1950s

            TTT’s arguments about polio are not essential to their overall critique of the risks and benefits of childhood vaccines, so their polio chapter might be thought of as a provocative supplement, an extra way of showing the limitations of establishment explanations. Without trying to get to the bottom of the polio story, my thought was “I’d really like to see vaccination proponents offer their views about each of these 19 apparent mysteries.”

What next?

In the late 1980s, I made an intensive study of the fluoridation controversy, and came to the conclusion that nothing would resolve the controversy in the short term. No matter what new evidence and new arguments are introduced, partisans on each side maintain their positions. This sort of polarised scientific controversy can be likened to a clash of paradigms, with adherents to each side seeing the world through assumptions almost impervious to new evidence. Contrary information is treated as anomalous, and supportive evidence is intertwined with assumptions about ethics and appropriate methods of decision-making.

            Why should the vaccination controversy be any different? I don’t expect Turtles to turn the tide. However, it will undoubtedly be a potent tool for vaccine critics.

            During the 1980s, US pro-fluoridationists discussed whether to engage in debates with anti-fluoridationists. Those who said yes thought that debates provided an opportunity to show the superiority of the arguments for fluoridation. Those who said no feared that engaging in debates gave anti-fluoridationists too much credibility. In essence, debating meant accepting that there was something worth debating. But there was a problem with refusing to debate: it seemed arrogant, which could hurt the cause. The debate about debating was never resolved.


Water fluoridation debate in Portland, Oregon

            These same considerations are present in the vaccination debate. My guess is that vaccination proponents will studiously avoid engaging with the arguments in Turtles. It is certainly possible that they could counter some of TTT’s arguments but, alas, we will probably never know, because proponents are in the ascendant, having cemented childhood vaccinations as an unquestioned good and stigmatised the slightest reservation or criticism.

            This is a sad state of affairs. There are a great many people who would benefit from an open debate, without ad hominem attacks, with respect for contrary views. Such a debate might lead to some backing down from vaccine mandates and more tolerance for selective vaccination and even non-vaccination. On the other hand, the debate might lead to a more solid basis for the benefits of some vaccines.

            “Debate” is the wrong word. There needs to be deliberation, a calm, rational discussion with the aim of reaching an agreed position, the sort of process used in citizens’ juries to look at all manner of contentious issues. In such a jury, a group of randomly selected citizens addresses a carefully specified issue by weighing up available evidence and reaching collectively-agreed recommendations. But allowing citizens to have input via deliberative processes is unlikely while experts and authorities are in full control.

            However, even deliberation would not be enough, because of undone science. There is too much research that needs to be carried out, too much evidence that needs to be collected, before judgements about vaccination can be put on a solid basis.

Conclusion

Of available critiques of vaccination orthodoxy, I think Turtles is the best yet. It exposes systematic weaknesses in studying the harmful effects of vaccines and challenges the usual claims about the benefits of vaccines for the individual and the community. The book has all the features I look for.

  • Comprehensive: it covers the central scientific and medical issues in the debate.
  • Reasoned: evidence and arguments are presented in a careful, logical, systematic way.
  • Authoritative: the authors, though anonymous, show their knowledge through their grasp of research and through comprehensive citations to medical research.
  • Readable: the writing is remarkably clear, and occasionally high-spirited.

            Two predictions. First, vaccination advocates will try to ignore the book. They are unlikely to engage with the book’s contents, though they might complain about the authors’ anonymity. Second, Turtles won’t end the dispute, which is likely to continue for decades.

Turtles was written before Covid and does not address Covid vaccines. Yet Covid is an important factor in the vaccination debate, because Covid vaccine mandates, and adverse events from Covid vaccines, disturbed large numbers of people, leading some to protest publicly. Concern about and opposition to Covid vaccines led to greater questioning of other vaccines. For those who are energised by concerns about Covid vaccines, Turtles is the ideal source for learning about the evidence and arguments.

Although arguments seldom resolve scientific controversies, events sometimes make a big difference. In the debate over nuclear power, the accidents at Three Mile Island, Chernobyl and Fukushima had immense impacts, serving to discredit the technology. In the vaccination debate, a major vaccine disaster could play a similar role. The full story of the impact of Covid vaccines is yet to play out, but it is reasonable to say that when promoters endorse a vaccine that is widely seen as disastrous, they jeopardise the rest of the vaccination programme. So perhaps my prediction about the continuation of the debate is off the mark. Time will tell!

            There’s much more to be said about Turtles. But enough from me, for now. You can form your own view, let me know what you think and, after you’ve read the book, contact The Turtles Team at the email address given in their book.


A different turtles team

Brian Martin

bmartin@uow.edu.au

For valuable feedback, I thank Steven Bartlett, Lyn Carson, Jungmin Choi, Kevin Dew, Bob Dildine, Kelly Gates, Anneleis Humphries, Olga Kuchinskaya, Julia LeMonde, Natti Ronel, Wendy Varney, Qinqing Xu and others who prefer to remain anonymous. None of them necessarily agrees with the views expressed in this review or by The Turtles Team.

Controlling our thoughts and actions

In 1972, a book was published titled Body Language and Social Order: Communication as Behavioral Control. I read it a year or two later and was so impressed that I wrote to the authors, saying I especially liked what they had written about social order.

            Recently I was going through my old files of printed material and came across the notes I had taken on the book and my correspondence. I wondered what the book would say to me today, fifty years after it was published. So I ordered a copy and read it again. It was just as interesting as before, and I think there is still much to learn from it.

            Kinesics is the study of people’s physical behaviour: postures, gestures, facial expressions and movements. Some motions are obvious, even striking, as when a child jumps up and down in excitement or anger. Other motions are subtle, such as when you enter someone’s office and they indicate where to sit with a hand gesture, a glance or the positioning of their body. A posture or a shrug can communicate without the conscious awareness of either the sender or the receiver. These subtle motions and what they communicate are what interested the authors.

            Albert Scheflen was a psychiatrist. I say “was” because he died long ago, in 1980. In the book, he is described as “Professor of Psychiatry at Albert Einstein College of Medicine and Researcher in Human Communication at the Bronx State Hospital and Jewish Family Service.” He began researching kinesics in 1957. Among his colleagues were the prominent figures Gregory Bateson and Ray Birdwhistell.

            The biographical blurb in the book about Alice Scheflen says she “has been a feature writer and editor in medicine and the sciences and Research Assistant in Human Communication.” I couldn’t find any other information about her.

            The first part of the book describes various messages conveyed through body position, gesture and facial expression, and how they relate to spoken language.


An expression suggesting anxiety, in the US context. From the book, page 8

            The authors begin by pointing out that humans share many behaviours with other primates. Chimps stake out territories and can counter intruders aggressively. Examples of human territoriality include fences around houses and boundaries between countries. These sorts of boundaries keep outsiders out and insiders in. When leaving or entering territories, there are bonding rituals, for example waving goodbye or going through immigration control. The Scheflens write that communication, normally thought of as spoken or written words, also includes behaviours that regulate the social order, including the organisation of a group and its dominance and submission patterns. That includes rituals associated with territories.


As a couple steps back from an embrace, the woman grooms her husband by adjusting his collar, an example of bond-servicing. From the book, page 20

            Arriving at a social function, I see people standing around, mostly in groups of two, three or four. Spying someone I know in one of the groups, I approach. If a friend sees me approach, they might open a space for me to join the group, by a small movement. If others recognise the move, they will open a space for me, but sometimes they form a tighter circle, making it harder to join, an elementary example of the “cold shoulder,” so familiar to those who are shunned. It can be an unconscious manoeuvre.


If two people do not want to be interrupted, they may stand closer or put their arms up as a barrier. From the book, page 29

            At the gym, I approach a weight machine just as another exerciser does, coming from another direction. He looks at me and then looks at an adjacent piece of equipment, signalling that he will defer to me and use the other equipment. When I finish my repetitions, he is still at the other piece of equipment. I catch his attention and gesture towards the machine I just left. He smiles. Not a word is exchanged as we negotiate access and priority.


This woman may be saying “On the one hand” and will then open her left fist when saying “On the other.” From the book, page 43

            The first part of the Scheflens’ book is devoted to these sorts of kinesic messages, systematically explaining how people communicate through their bodies. Many different sorts of messages are described, illustrated with photos on nearly every page. The photos are literally snapshots of extended sequences of moves, so the Sheflens provide descriptions of the events displayed.

A kinesic signal of dominance. From the book, page 52

            One message they describe is the “monitor,” designed to control someone else’s behaviour. Observing two of his patients, Albert Scheflen observed a mother making a subtle move, sliding a finger across her lip, whenever her son said something she didn’t like, and her son picked up the message immediately, although neither mother nor son consciously realised what was happening. Different sorts of gestures can serve as monitors, for example a frown or hunched shoulders.

            In some situations, a body-language monitor can be more effective than explicit verbal instructions. A spoken command can trigger resistance in some people, whereas subtle gestures can work better because the message is subliminal. When children are acting up and then realise that others are looking at them in a certain way, this may be enough to get them to stop.

“A common monitoring signal is the act of wiping the index finger laterally across the nostrils. This kinesic act can be seen anywhere in America when some group member violates the local proprieties of that group.” From the book, page 108

            The monitor is just one example of how kinesics can provide insight into social interactions. Many people, in their jobs and outside, experience disapproval, but it can be hard to point to what’s going on because the message is partly or completely nonverbal, conveyed by gestures, postures and facial expressions. It’s almost impossible to collect evidence about this. The same applies to ostracism. People seldom say, “I’m not going to socialise with you.” Instead, they don’t look you in the face, walk by without saying hello or providing a glance of recognition, and avoid sitting near you. These are kinesic and territorial behaviours. Most of these behaviours operate outside of consciousness by either the sender or receiver of the kinesic messages.

Control over the way we think

One of the Scheflens’ chapters is titled “The control of ideation,” which means the control of thinking. They point out that kinesic-territorial behaviours learned at home and school, without formal instruction — a sort of indoctrination — prepare a child for the adult world, usually by acquiescing to dominant ways of thinking and behaving.

“An American child learns at an early age the fundamentals of his culture. He learns to speak and he learns the pointed myths of the culture in the form of fairy tales and the like. He learns to believe doctrines, and he also learns the rudiments of ethnocentrism. If he comes from a middle-class family or a family that aspires to the middle class, he will also learn about upward mobility and develop the motivation to learn and get ahead. He is now ready for schooling.” (page 147)

            The Scheflens say an organisation member can become intellectually and emotionally bound up with the organisation’s official belief system, so when hearing about alternatives or not conforming, ideas and feelings tied to the organisation are evoked. This is “institution-think,” which means thinking and feeling from the perspective of the organisation. You can see how this would be a danger for someone who questions what is going on, who points to shady activities that contravene the official belief system. Those bound by institution-think will respond negatively, based on gut reactions and automatic thoughts.

            In a society like Australia, most people are inculcated with a belief in individual autonomy, a belief that most behaviour is instigated by individuals making conscious choices to achieve their goals. If you think this is completely obvious, you’ve subscribed to what the Scheflens call the myth of individualism. An alternative perspective is that most behaviour is conditioned by the environment, which refers to everything external to the individual, including family expectations, job structures, roads, buildings and other people’s behaviour. In this alternative perspective, which is common in collectivist societies, the focus is on the whole picture, on society, on social life as a dynamic process in which individuals are components that adapt to their environment.

            How, in a place like Australia, do people maintain a belief in individualism? The Scheflens say the myth of individualism is maintained when those who conform to institutional rules make slight deviations that do not challenge the dominant ways of thinking. You can wear your own style of clothes to work but continue to accept and maintain the work hierarchy. You can adorn your room with personal pictures while continuing to be a conventional consumer. You can put your phone in a distinctive case and choose your own ring tone. The Scheflens note that people focus on individual choices and individual differences but do not notice wider-scale regularities and conformities.

Scapegoating

Every social arrangement — families, clubs, businesses and nations — has problems. What should be done about them? Why not blame someone?

            Blaming is a convenient mechanism for exercising control, gaining power and eliminating those who might cause friction. The target of significant blaming rituals is called a scapegoat, someone or some group that is treated as responsible for problems, and attacked and/or expelled. The scapegoat serves as a magnet for others’ psychological projections: all their own unrecognised bad elements are attributed to the scapegoat, magically cleansing the attackers.

            Even the threat of being blamed can keep members subservient. Although the Scheflens never mention whistleblowers — the term was hardly known at the time — their analysis of scapegoating remains relevant today.

            They say two structural factors lead to blaming. One is organisational problems, which are inevitable. The second factor is people believing in blaming and crediting, which is deep-seated in societies like the US and Australia. This can be seen in the deification of some public figures — think of Queen Elizabeth II — and the discrediting of others, such as disliked politicians.

            In the process of scapegoating, the accused is often guilty of something, but no more so than others. This is a double standard, something familiar to whistleblowers.

            When evaluating a worker’s performance, what can be done to downgrade the scapegoat? It’s not so hard. One method is to use a single attribute, for example sloppiness, tardiness, fondness for alcohol or attention to detail, to characterise the whole person. A highly creative and inspiring worker can be downgraded by being labelled sloppy, tardy, alcoholic or obsessive.

            Another method used to downgrade a scapegoat is to apply local standards and ignore other values. In the organisation, it might be routine for corners to be cut, friends rewarded and monies siphoned. These are the local standards, and anyone who doesn’t conform is cast loose. Meanwhile, other values, such as the merit principle and proper accounting, are disregarded.

            When someone is undermined and abused, sometimes they lash out in frustration. This provides a pretext for scapegoating. This applies not just to whistleblowers but also to groups such as drug users and ethnic minorities. When any of them react to their demeaning treatment, they are blamed and repressed, while their life conditions are forgotten or absolved.

            Defending scapegoats from attack is necessary but comes with a downside. The focus remains on the scapegoat and on their treatment. Sometimes the focus is on corrupt operators. But seldom is attention directed at social arrangements, for example the market economy or hierarchy within organisations, that condition people’s behaviour and lead to dysfunctions. Scapegoating is toxic, to be sure, but it may be better to understand it as a symptom of deeper problems, ones linked to the way families, workplaces, neighbourhoods and countries are structured.

Communication and deviancy

The Scheflens describe the process of “binding,” which refers to close attachments, for example of a child to a parent or a patriot to a country. Binding often starts in the family and then continues through life, reinforced by culture, for example through the idea of romantic love.

            Some people are bound to their employers; as already mentioned, they are subject to “institution-think.” Managers do not address how the organisation fosters alienation among workers, but instead blame individuals. You can see how binding can lead to blaming those who don’t conform. A family’s “black sheep” member may be shunned or abused. In an organisation, they may be exploited or bullied. When they resist, they may be treated as insane.

            Then there is the process called “double-binding.” The Scheflens say there are three dimensions of double-binds: (1) contradictory demands on a person; (2) the paradoxical aspects are not recognised, for example one demand being verbal, the other being kinesic; (3) the person is in a social niche with no escape. A girl is told to be independent but whenever she takes initiative, a parent sends a non-verbal message to stop: this is a double-bind.

            This same idea applies to workers who are expected to behave according to the high-minded ideals of the organisation but to live with contrary behaviours. The organisation might have an anti-bullying policy but bullying is rampant. Workers who cannot afford to leave are caught in a double-bind. If they lash out in desperation, they are blamed in the usual scapegoating ritual.

            One of the Scheflens’ final points is that in Western countries, it is assumed that individual behaviour causes wider social processes, for example that politicians and corporate executives are responsible for what happens, good or bad. The Scheflens prefer systems thinking, in which the drivers of behaviour are social structures, communication systems and ways of thinking.

            In the half century since Body Language and Social Order was published, there have been many changes in society and interpersonal behaviour. With the rise of the gig economy, binding to organisations may be less common; perhaps binding occurs through economic insecurity. Social media have changed the way people interact. Still, the Scheflens’ analysis offers many insights that remain relevant today. If anything, society is even more individualistic than before, and so is blaming people — the unemployed, criminals, corrupt operators or foreign enemies — while ignoring the role of social structures like the family, organisations and the system of nation-states.

            After reading the book, in 1974 I wrote to the authors:

I would like to let you know how much I enjoyed your book Body Language and Social Order, especially the part “Communication in institutional and political control.” It seems to me to present an important radical perspective of the world in an easily understandable form, by appealing to an individual’s personal experience of the world rather than to abstract philosophical arguments.

After telling about my own interest in the topics, I continued:

It is obvious that educational institutions, like other institutions, communicate through their structures as a means for effectively obtaining and maintaining control over members. The authoritative space and time structure of the lecture situation, the design of syllabi by “experts,” the creation of a scarcity of knowledge and the monopolisation of certification illustrate the divergence between “Do what I say” and “Do what I don’t need to say.” However, I am not familiar with any formal studies of educational institutions which investigate in detail the use of structure and paracommunicative behaviour in maintaining institutional control. I would appreciate any references you could give me along these lines.

In response, I received a letter from the Bronx State Hospital in New York:

Many thanks for your comments on our book on Body Language and Social Order. Many people have commented on the early part of the book, but it is as though the last part on politics of communication was never written. It is simply ignored by students and reviewers as well. Some people have said I should never have written it. But I disagree. I would like to have written it better but it is high time we stop this nonsense that science is value free and speak out about the abuses of concepts and researches. So many thanks for making it worthwhile. I have no references to send you. The stuff you read is my own and my wife’s. We did not do formal research on the matter and do not know anyone who has.

            Signed “Al Sheflen.”

            After my recent rereading of the book, I returned to my notes about it taken in the early 1970s. They were entirely on three of the fourteen chapters, the ones about control of mobility, control of ideation and control by scapegoating. How good to be reminded of these ideas again. If only the Scheflens were still around to discuss them.

Brian Martin
bmartin@uow.edu.au

Body Language and Social Order (download entire book)

A version of this post appeared in the October 2022 issue of The Whistle. 

In praise of scholarly values

Even for a critic of academia, scholarly values are worth defending.

In the half century of my academic career, I’ve repeatedly studied and exposed shortcomings in academic systems and behaviour. Problems include bias, misrepresentation, suppression of dissent, and unquestioning service to vested interests such as the military. This is not to mention bitter and destructive interpersonal and organisational politics. It is safe to say there are lots of negatives in academic life.

            In recent years, though, I’ve come to a greater appreciation of scholarly values. These values include respect for evidence and arguments, willingness to address the views of others, and the freedom to investigate and speak out about sensitive topics.

            Much of my research has been about public scientific controversies such as over nuclear power, pesticides and fluoridation. These provide a window into some of the most extreme behaviour by researchers, administrators and outside groups. However, it was only when I started studying the Australian vaccination debate that the importance of scholarly values really hit home. (This was years before Covid came on the scene.)

Ad hominem unlimited

Let’s start with respect for evidence and arguments. Scholars, ideally, engage with each other’s work by addressing, contesting and debating facts, methods, theories and perspectives. It is widely considered improper to openly criticise researchers as individuals. Behind the scenes, in private conversations, many researchers, including top ones, can be harshly critical of their opponents. Ian Mitroff in his classic book The Subjective Side of Science found that, in private, leading moon scientists would make derogatory comments about researchers with contrary views. However, personal attacks in the open literature are rare. Most scientific disputes are carried out in a seemingly respectful fashion.

            Outside scholarly forums, things can be much rougher. In the Australian vaccination debate, personal slurs are commonplace on blogs, Facebook pages and in some mass media outlets. Enough people in the debate have been sufficiently nasty to degrade the tone and deter others from participating.

            Although I engaged in the debate as a sociologist and defender of free speech, I became a regular target of ad hominem comments. Here’s a typical one: “I’d be embarrassed for a schoolkid that lazy or stupid. For a professional scholar, it’s gobsmacking. What a moron.”

            I get a laugh out of comments like these but abuse is not always funny. Many prominent women commentators regularly receive threats of rape or murder. This is remote from scholarly decorum.

Point-scoring

Many partisans in scientific controversies identify some mistake or shortcoming in the opponent’s case and seize on it, as if a single mistake or logical flaw invalidates the entire case. For example, pro-vaccination campaigners regularly refer to alleged fraud by British gastroenterologist Andrew Wakefield, implying that this discredits all criticisms of vaccination. For serious scholars, using this sort of point-scoring technique should be an embarrassment. It would be like discrediting a social theory because a leading theorist allegedly plagiarised.

Presenting contrary arguments

In philosophy, it is common to carefully present the arguments supporting a contrary view, critically examine them and, if possible, demolish them in terms of logic and evidence. This approach can be applied in examining controversial and provocative topics, as in Aaron James’ book Assholes.

            In many public controversies, this willingness to engage with the opponent’s arguments is sadly lacking. In the vaccination debate, each side presents evidence and arguments supporting its own position and attacking the opponent’s position. I am yet to discover a partisan on either side who presents the opponent’s argument in a fair fashion. The usual approach is to say, “Here are my strong points and there are your weak points,” with no acknowledgement of one’s own weak points or the opponent’s strong points.

            There is a reason for this. In polarised controversies, making any admission of weakness may be seized upon by opponents and used relentlessly. Many campaigners never admit a weakness or a source of bias, instead focusing exclusively on the weaknesses and biases of the opponent. In contrast, a good scholar should be willing to acknowledge weaknesses and to be open about possible sources of bias, in what is called reflexivity.

Academic freedom

Scholars like to imagine they can undertake investigations into controversial areas and be protected from adverse consequences. The reality is that few scholars ever tackle really sensitive topics, knowing it may be career suicide to challenge orthodoxy. Nevertheless, despite shortcomings in practice, freedom of inquiry remains a crucial academic value.

            Threats to academic freedom have come both from outside vested interests, such as big business, and from university administrators. With the advent of social media, it is now easier to express displeasure with researchers and their work, and easier to mount campaigns against academics whose views are unwelcome.

            After Hurricane Katrina in 2005, hurricane researcher Ivor van Heerden criticised the Army Corps of Engineers. He ended up losing his job at Louisiana State University.


Ivor van Heerden

            Canadian political scientist Tom Flanagan, identified with the conservative side of politics, was attacked online by the circulation of an extract from a talk he gave, surreptitiously recorded and misleadingly labelled, to discredit him personally. As recounted in his lucid book Persona Non Grata, the campaign had a damaging effect on his work, while his university did little to defend him.

            University administrations depend on their public reputations for recruiting high-quality staff and obtaining income via donations and student enrolments. As a result, they take a risk in standing up to campaigns against stigmatised scholars.

Scholarly values, another look

Having observed up close some online campaigns against dissident scholars, it seems to me that the rejection of scholarly values is less a betrayal than a disregard. In much political campaigning as well as in public scientific controversies, many members of the public are more concerned about winning by discrediting opponents than they are in having a rational conversation about an issue of social importance. Scholarly values can be boiled down to encouraging engagement on the basis of respectful interactions that address the issues. This means avoiding, when possible, making abusive comments, manipulating evidence and arguments, or trying to silence opponents.

            Though the academic system has many shortcomings, I realise now that many of them are due to a failure to live up to the values of respectful engagement and freedom of expression that are widely given lip service. The degraded commentary in many online confrontations should serve as a reminder of the positive aspects of academic discourse.

Brian Martin
bmartin@uow.edu.au

Thinking about death

When is the last time you thought about your life ending? Did this cause distress or cheer you up? Either way, you’re thinking about your own mortality, and that can change the way you think and act on other issues. More on this later.

            When I was a teenager, I thought a fair bit about the end of my consciousness, and started reading about death. I don’t remember the names of any of the authors except for the Spanish writer Miguel de Unamuno, and don’t remember what any of them said!

            At Rice University in 1968, I had the opportunity to take a class titled “The meaning of death in Western culture.” I remember that I wrote my final essay arguing that religious arguments for immortality were inadequate and the best scientific evidence for life after death was from psychic phenomena, and this evidence was inconclusive. I was majoring in physics and I guess my scientific mindset was on display.

            In the following years, the issue of my own mortality became less salient. I still read and thought about death-related issues, for example through my studies of nuclear extinction, the euthanasia debate and Death imagined as a powerful perpetrator. Even so, I became far more accepting of the end of consciousness.

            What would it be like to go to sleep and not wake up? The best answer I discovered was in the book The Mind Club by Daniel M. Wegner and Kurt Gray. The authors say it’s intrinsically impossible to understand non-existence because there would be no “I” to think about it. As they put it, “Trying to perceive your dead mind is paradoxical, because you have to perceive a state that is incapable of perception — which is impossible while you are currently perceiving.”

Mortals

Recently, while in the Sydney bookshop Dymocks hunting for something to read, I saw Mortals: How the Fear of Death Shaped Human Society. Written by two psychologists based in Sydney, Rachel Menzies and Ross Menzies, it seemed a perfect opportunity to refresh and update my understanding of death issues.

            Menzies and Menzies begin by tackling a big issue: religion. They go through several of the world’s major religions, including Christianity, Islam, Hinduism and Buddhism — the four largest in terms of adherents — arguing that much of their appeal comes from their promise of immortality, in one form or another. And why should anyone seek immortality? The fear of death, of course. If major religions are successful in recruiting and retaining followers due to their role in reducing the fear of death, this is indeed a powerful influence on human society. In some religions, your immortality comes via your mind, but in Christianity your body is part of the package, which presumably is more appealing. Menzies and Menzies say less about a negative side of immortality: the possibility of everlasting damnation. Why would religion be attractive if it comes along with the risk of going to hell? Maybe this uses the fear of death in an even more potent combination: frighten people with visions of hell and then promise everlasting life in heaven if only they believe.

            But is fear of death the key driver of religious belief? Research shows that people who are religious are happier, on average, than those who are not. Religious belief plays a role in this, but so do social relationships, which are known to promote happiness, among believers. Some religions have rituals involving expressing gratitude, something that reliably improves happiness. So there might be more to the attractions of religion than just warding off the fear of death.

TMT

In the 1980s, three researchers — Jeff Greenberg, Sheldon Solomon and Tom Pyszczynski — developed what is called Terror Management Theory or TMT. Despite the name, this has nothing to do with terrorism. It is about people’s fear of death, a fear so great as to warrant the word “terror,” and posits that this terror, even when not recognised consciously, has major influences on thought and behaviour. When I first read about TMT, years ago, it sounded a bit crazy, but there’s lots of research showing the impact of being reminded about death.

            In a typical experiment, the participants — most commonly undergraduate psychology students — are brought into the lab and asked to undertake a task, like solving anagrams. The task is seldom the real purpose of the study but is designed to distract their attention, so they don’t realise what the experimenter is trying to find out. Along the way, some participants are exposed to an article or video with images of death, whereas others, the controls, are exposed to a “neutral” equivalent like a cat video. Then there is a further task, or something happens, and the participants are watched to find out what they do. In one study, they needed to wash their hands, and the experimenters cleverly weighed soap dispensers and counted paper hand towels before and after.

            With ingenious experiments, researchers have discovered all sorts of fascinating things about how people react to being reminded of death. One finding is that some people become more willing to punish those not in their own group, such as foreigners. But only some people are affected this way, mainly those with certain personality traits or political orientations. Still, the overall picture is worrying. According to Menzies and Menzies, “Hundreds of studies show that nearly any reminder of death makes people more aggressive, more racist and more willing to inflict harsh punishments.” (pp. 82-83)

Living forever in the flesh

What are your prospects for immortality in your own body, here on Earth? Back in the 1970s, one of my colleagues, Tom, planned to have his body frozen when he died so that, with future recovery techniques, he could later be restored to life. This process is called cryonics. Tom wasn’t alone. Thousands of people have signed up to have their bodies, or just their heads, frozen at ultra-low temperatures in the hope of being brought back to life when the technology is available.

            Tom was a peculiar guy, lacking typical social skills. This was not uncommon for pure mathematicians, but Tom was at an extreme end. I used to imagine some future group of scientists restoring frozen people from a previous century and saying, “This is amazing. Everyone back in the 1970s was a lunatic!” If Tom was an emissary from our time to the future, he was hardly typical. But at least he was a gentle, introspective soul, not a megalomaniac.

            Menzies and Menzies use cryonics as one of many examples of the human quest for immortality. Incidentally, they give many reasons why the prospects for resuscitating a frozen brain are minimal: those relying on cryonics to have their minds restored have let hope triumph over the evidence.

Living forever symbolically

Menzies and Menzies offer a new perspective on Michelangelo’s painting of the Sistine Chapel. Michelangelo insisted on making this artwork a fresco, so it is part of the surface, making it far more lasting than a wall painting. In their telling, Michelangelo was willing to spend years of agonising effort so his art would be long remembered. In this, he was successful. However, most artists are not. Before long, they are forgotten.

            Menzies and Menzies argue that striving for symbolic immortality is important in driving cultural production. I thought this could apply to me because I’ve written lots of articles and books. The quest for a type of immortality may play a role, but there are other factors. Artistic production is one way to enter into a state called flow in which one’s focus is entirely on what’s happening and the sense of self recedes from consciousness. The pioneer researcher on flow, Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, found that this is a highly desirable mental state that can be entered through all sorts of means, typically exercising a skill at a level challenging enough to avoid boredom but not so challenging as to induce anxiety. Quite independently of the fear of death, entering flow can be a motivator for producing artistic works. On the other hand, is flow a way to avoid thinking about death?

            Menzies and Menzies discuss several other ways that people try to deal with their unconscious fear of death, for example taking vitamin supplements and exercising. In every case, there are other factors. For example, physical activity is the most reliable way for people to feel better physically and mentally, which surely is a worthy goal even for those unconcerned about dying.

            The authors make a grand claim: “We have shown that nationalistic fervour, aggression against outgroups, religious wars, popping vitamins, endless hours on treadmills, investing in cryonics and futile health interventions all arise from failing to accept one’s mortality.” (p. 181) I think they’re on solid ground with cryonics, but for the other topics more is involved, and the precise role of the fear of death remains to be determined.

            Mortals is filled with fascinating information from cultures around the world. How about this? In Alabama, you can have your ashes incorporated into a shotgun shell. In this way, you can protect your family after you’re gone! Well, it’s only a replica, but it’s a thoughtful gesture.

            Menzies and Menzies are psychologists and have treated many patients with mental problems. They argue that the fear of death is an underlying factor in many mental illnesses that seem to be about something else. An example is a spider phobia. A therapist might try to reassure a patient by saying, “Don’t worry, you’re not going to die just by looking at a spider.” The trouble is that the patient is going to die, eventually, of something. To say that a fear of death underlies many mental disorders might sound outlandish, but Menzies and Menzies cite some striking evidence in support, including that the level of people’s death fears correlates with mental health problems, medication use, hospitalisations and the recurrence of problems.


Rachel Menzies

Implications

If the fear of death has so many harmful consequences, what is to be done? The authors say, basically, accept that you will die and get on with life. They tell about the Stoics, the philosophers in ancient Greece who advised not to worry about things you can’t control. This is good advice generally and certainly applies to the fact that everyone dies.

            Menzies and Menzies also discuss funeral practices, noting that the practice of embalming — routine in the US — is environmentally damaging. They discuss the “death-positive movement” that promotes acceptance of death and has led to environmentally friendly options for burial.

            On a much bigger scale is human overpopulation, a factor in the environmental crisis. Menzies and Menzies say having children is a way to help deal with the fear of death, because children carry on our genes and our culture. Also, in most societies, having children is looked on favourably and thus helps build self-esteem, a buffer against the fear of death. This is plausible, and then there’s research showing that when men are asked how many children they would like to have, they give a higher number after having been subliminally reminded of death.


Warding off a fear of death?

            The authors also argue that people’s belief that the human species is immune to disaster, including catastrophic global warming, derives from an inability to face death. You may not agree with all these assessments, but the stakes are potentially high. If you turn away from the evidence and arguments presented in Mortals, does that reflect an aversion to thinking about your own death?

            Reminders of death are all around us, in the news and entertainment, though this varies a lot depending on the culture. I started this post by mentioning death, and that should have influenced your thinking, at least in the short term. It’s definitely worth learning about how reminders about death affect us, so if you can stand an intense yet engaging tour of death-related topics, why not read Mortals?


Ross Menzies

Brian Martin
bmartin@uow.edu.au

Thanks to Chris Barker, Kelly Gates, Emily Herrington and Julia LeMonde for helpful comments.

Anonymous authorship

The problems with authors being anonymous may not be what you think.

My friend and collaborator, the late Steve Wright, worked to expose and challenge repression technology. For many years, he regularly visited “security fairs” where merchants tout wares for controlling populations such as electroshock batons, guillotines, acoustic weapons and surveillance equipment. They sell technology for torture and social control to governments of all stripes, including known human rights violators.

            Steve would talk with merchants, collect sales brochures and covertly take photos. Back home in Britain, he passed information and photos to human rights groups such as Amnesty International. In addition to articles and reports using his own name, he sometimes used the pseudonym Robin Ballantyne. For Steve, a degree of anonymity was vital, especially when visiting security fairs in repressive countries such as Turkey and China.

            I thought of Steve’s experiences when, a couple of years ago, I read about the new Journal of Controversial Ideas that explicitly allows authors to use pseudonyms. This is to enable authors of contentious articles to avoid reprisals by colleagues and others. How sensible, I thought.

            Then I read comments hostile to the journal’s policy on anonymity. Helen Trinca, associate editor of The Australian and long-time editor of its higher education supplement, penned an article titled “As ideas go, hiding behind an alias is as false as they come.” She lauded Peter Singer, co-editor of the new journal, for bravely proposing his own challenging ideas. She said, though, that he wouldn’t have had such an impact if he had used a pseudonym: “the likelihood that a fresh and different idea will actually spark a conversation is reduced when it’s put forward by someone who cannot be seen, who is not known, and who has no profile to Google or CV to check.”

            Philosopher Patrick Stokes, in an article in The Conversation, presented the pros and cons of anonymous authorship. In conclusion, he asked,

“Are you, in the end, making life better for other people, or worse? In light of that standard, a pseudonymous journal devoted entirely to ‘controversial’ ideas starts to look less like a way to protect researchers from cancel culture, and more like a safe-house for ideas that couldn’t withstand moral scrutiny the first time around.”

I’m not so sure about this.

Anonymous whistleblowing

Over the past several decades, I’ve spoken to hundreds of whistleblowers. They come from all walks of life, including the public service, private companies, schools, the police, the military and churches. They report a potential problem, usually to their superiors, and frequently end up suffering reprisals. In the worst cases, their careers are destroyed.

            What happens, time and again, is that managers and bosses don’t like the message and target the messenger. Therefore, for many years, I have recommended blowing the whistle anonymously whenever possible. The value of anonymity is that the focus is more on the disclosure rather than the person who made it. In the huge volume of commentary about whistleblowers like Chelsea Manning and Edward Snowden, there is often more attention to them as individuals than to what they spoke out about.

            The same considerations apply to scholars. They can be subject to adverse actions due to speaking out on sensitive issues. I’ve talked to several Australian academics who raised concerns about “soft marking,” in particular the lowering of standards when grading international students. This is a touchy topic because it smacks of racism and because it is threatening to universities’ income. I don’t know whether any of the claims about soft marking could be substantiated, but every one of these academics encountered problems in their careers as a result of raising concerns.

Pascal

In 1990 I began corresponding with Louis Pascal, a writer based in New York City. He had published a couple of articles in well-respected philosophy journals. He had come up with an idea: that AIDS may have entered humans via contaminated polio vaccines given in the late 1950s to hundreds of thousands of people in central Africa. This idea was highly threatening to the medical research mainstream. Who would want to acknowledge that a vaccination campaign might have inadvertently led to a new disease in humans costing tens of millions of lives? Pascal met great resistance in getting his papers about AIDS published. That is another story.

            The key point here is that “Louis Pascal” was, almost certainly, a pseudonym. I never met him nor spoke to him. He used a private address that may have been a mail drop. After a huge flurry of correspondence with me and others, by the mid 1990s he vanished, at least so far as his Pascal identity was concerned. Many have speculated that “Louis Pascal” was, in public, a different person, who wanted to keep his writings about population and AIDS separate from his public identity.

Nicolas Bourbaki

There can be other reasons for anonymity. Bourbaki is the name of a group of mathematicians. By using a pseudonym for the group, they renounced acknowledgement for their contributions.


Bourbaki Congress of 1938

            This can be for an altruistic reason. Normally, researchers build their reputations and careers through being known, especially through publications. The mixing of two motivations — contributing to knowledge and advancing in a career — leads to a number of dysfunctions such as sloppy and premature publication. The members of Bourbaki, by remaining anonymous, more purely adhered to the scholarly ideal of seeking knowledge, without the contamination of career motives.

Toxic anonymity

Rather than getting worried about a few scholars writing articles under pseudonyms, there are much bigger problems with anonymous authorship, ones that deserve far greater attention.

            Many contributors to social media are anonymous. Many are polite and constructive, but quite a few are nasty and threatening. Individuals who are prominent or outspoken are vulnerable to abuse online, and women and minorities are prime targets. Researcher Emma Jane, at the University of NSW, has documented the horrific abuse to which women are subjected.

            Closer to the academic scene, reviewers of scholarly papers are commonly anonymous. The rationale is that reviewers, if they could be identified, might be less than candid. But there’s a negative consequence: some reviewers sabotage submissions by rivals or authors whose opinions they dislike. By remaining anonymous, they aren’t accountable. This is a longstanding problem that has received little attention. If it is important that authors take responsibility for their contributions, why should the authors of reviews of scholarly manuscripts not have to take responsibility for their reports?

            In many fields, especially scientific ones, supervisors and senior figures add their names to publications to which they made little or no intellectual contribution. PhD students, postdocs and junior scientists in large labs are especially vulnerable to this type of exploitation. It should be called plagiarism: credit is inappropriately claimed for the work of others. This practice of unwarranted authorship is widespread, yet it is often considered just the way things are done, and there has been remarkably little public concern expressed about it.

            This form of misrepresentation reaches greater heights in medical research. Pharmaceutical companies carry out research and write papers and then, to give the findings greater credibility, identify university professors who agree to be the nominal authors of the papers, even though they were not involved in the research, have no access to the primary data and did not write the papers to which they append their names. Meanwhile, the actual researchers may or may not be listed as co-authors. Some of them remain anonymous. Many papers produced in this fraudulent fashion are published in the most prestigious medical journals. The sponsoring companies then print thousands of copies and use the publication to tout their drugs.

            A ghostwriter, sometimes called a ghost, does some or all of the writing while someone else is listed as the author. Ghostwriting is common in autobiographies of prominent individuals such as politicians, sports stars and celebrities. Sometimes the ghost is listed as a co-author; other times the ghost remains entirely anonymous. Ghostwriting is also standard for the speeches and articles of politicians. Anonymous authors contributed to many famous speeches, for example President Dwight D. Eisenhower’s famous warning about the military-industrial complex.

Conclusion

It is reasonable to have concerns about authors being anonymous, but whether anonymity is beneficial or damaging depends quite a bit on the circumstances. I am sympathetic to the view that an author should reveal their identity when possible. However, the biggest abuses and misrepresentations associated with anonymity — social media harassment, exploitation of subordinates and ghostwriting — seem to receive the least attention.

Postscript

I submitted a paper to the Journal of Controversial Ideas. It received two rounds of rigorous refereeing before publication. I didn’t choose to be anonymous but, if my experience is typical, the journal seems far from being, in the words of Patrick Stokes, “a safe-house for ideas that couldn’t withstand moral scrutiny the first time around.”

Brian Martin
bmartin@uow.edu.au

Is age just a number?

Thinking positively about being old has surprisingly powerful effects.

In my years of teaching undergraduates, there were many instances in which students seemed clueless — and had poor memories. A student would come by my office asking how to get to their classroom. I’d say, “What’s the name of your subject?” “I can’t remember.” Then there were students about to hand in their assignments who couldn’t remember the name of their tutor.

            If these students had been 60 years old, we might have said they were having a “senior moment.” But they were 20. Were they having a “junior moment”?

            During a class, students would sometimes forget the names of their classmates — if they ever learned them — or get the day of the week wrong, among other simple mistakes.

            Then there was the challenge of finding their way around the building where I work, the notorious building 19. Many students needed directions. We used to say that once they could find their way around building 19, we’d give them a degree.

            The idea of a “senior moment” reflects a cultural assumption that older people’s memories fail. This same cultural expectation is apparent in all sorts of areas, from physical activity to job opportunities.

Breaking the age code

What are your age beliefs? Here’s a simple test. Imagine an old person and write down the first five words or phrases that come to mind, anything from “my grannie” to “absent-minded” or “helpful.” If you come up with words like “doddery” and think getting old means going downhill, losing your memory, becoming incapacitated and senile, then you have “negative age beliefs.” On the other hand, if you come up with words like “graceful” and think of old age as a time of wisdom, maturity and emotional stability, you have positive age beliefs. Does it matter what sort of beliefs you have? For the answer, get Becca Levy’s powerful new book Breaking the age code.

            Her answer is a resounding yes. Levy is a Yale University researcher who has been studying many aspects of age beliefs for decades. What she and co-authors discovered is striking: individuals with positive age beliefs do better in all sorts of ways. They do better both physically and mentally. Is this just a placebo effect? If so, it’s a powerful one that can improve your biomarkers and your performance on mental acuity tests.

“In study after study I conducted, I found that older people with more-positive perceptions of aging performed better physically and cognitively that those with more-negative perceptions; they were more likely to recover from severe disability, they remembered better, they walked faster, and they even lived longer. I was also able to show that many of the cognitive and physiological challenges we think of as linked to growing old — things like hearing loss and cardiovascular disease — are also the products of age beliefs absorbed from our social surroundings.” (p. 5)

            Levy had been doing research for years when one study suddenly made her a media star. She looked at the difference in life span between individuals with the most positive and the most negative age beliefs. “What I found was startling. Participants with the most-positive views of aging were living, on average, seven and a half years longer than those with the most-negative views.” (p. 93) That made people sit up and listen.

            However, changing your beliefs is not all that easy. If you imagine that you can say, “I’ll just start thinking positively about being older, and reap all those benefits,” think again. Individual beliefs can make a difference, but it’s hard to go against the surrounding culture. If nearly everyone around you has negative age beliefs, and speaks and acts accordingly, you’re almost bound to be influenced — negatively.

            When co-workers, faced with a challenging task, turn to younger colleagues and ignore you, you may feel unneeded, and furthermore you miss out on the intellectual and social stimulation that can help you maintain and develop your capacities. When doctors treat your ailments as “just getting old” and hence as less urgent than the same ailments in younger patients, you miss out on the help you need.

            Levy studied cultures where elders are respected. In such cultures, older people thrive. It’s as if they live up to expectations. Others’ beliefs affect what opportunities you have. If you’re continually challenged, mentally and physically, you are more likely to maintain your capacities.

Ageism

Watching academic appointments over decades, I’ve seen a preference for promise over performance: a younger applicant with “promise” is favoured over an older one with a solid record. Sometimes it seems to me that some of those on appointment committees don’t want to hire someone for a junior position who has achievements comparable to their own. This is just my impression but it accords with everything Levy says. She says ageism in employment, in the US anyway, is standard practice despite evidence that older workers can be creative, are more reliable, have fewer accidents and have more life wisdom. Discrimination in the workplace on the basis of gender or ethnicity is treated as a serious matter, even a legal matter, but there is no similar taboo against ageism.

            I talked with colleagues who, like me, are unpaid but still researching. Many of us have extensive experience and would be pleased to be more involved giving guest lectures, assessing theses, mentoring and helping in other ways. But it seems no one in authority is interested. If you’re retired or otherwise unpaid, you’re just about invisible.

            Another arena where ageism has major impacts is health care. Levy says that negative age stereotypes inform western medicine, and also notes that there’s more money in medicating disease than in preventing it through exercise and other means.

            I’ve often read about the impending demographic crisis of ageing: as a country’s population gets older, there will be fewer people of working age to support the greater numbers of the elderly with their greater demands on health services. One of the aspects of this “crisis” is self-inflicted: the requirement or pressure for people to retire, and the difficulty older workers have in finding a new job. The so-called demographic crisis would not be a problem if older people had greater opportunities to continue working. There’s another aspect: Levy cites a study showing that countries with older populations do not have higher public health expenditures. This goes against the usual assumption, and undermines the rationale for government policies to boost the birth rate or encourage immigration of young people.

            Over the years, I’ve occasionally run into someone I hadn’t seen in many years who says, “You haven’t changed a bit.” This sort of comment annoyed me in some way I couldn’t articulate, because of course I look considerably older than ten or twenty years ago. Levy explains that telling someone they haven’t aged is intended as a compliment but implies that ageing should be denied or is bad. Perhaps I should respond, “Actually, I’d really like to look older and more distinguished!”

Making a difference

Even if you live in a society with negative age beliefs, you can resist the messages around you and help to change attitudes. Levy offers a variety of practical exercises to change negative age beliefs to positive, based on changing people’s awareness and understanding, and confronting ageism. In one of the appendices, she provides information to challenge false age stereotypes. For example, you can counter the view that “Older workers aren’t effective in the workplace” by citing information that “Older workers take fewer days off for sickness, benefit from experience, have strong work ethics, and are often innovative.” (p.212).

            In Australia, there is no mandatory retirement age, but the way pension systems are set up discourages working past the 60s, and added to this are strong pressures to retire and give opportunities to younger workers. Levy tells about Jonas, a paediatrician, who retired from clinical practice, while continuing to teach. Jonas had much to offer, and told Levy, “I realized at the very end of my clinical career that most people retire as soon as they get good at something.” (p. 68) To cover his accumulated knowledge and abilities, the university had to hire two younger doctors.

            It seems the economic system is set up to throw away vast amounts of accumulated wisdom, yet people don’t recognise what’s happening because of the prevalence of negative age beliefs. Read Breaking the Age Code and help bring about change.


Becca Levy

Brian Martin
bmartin@uow.edu.au