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When giants roamed the earth
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Reality is relative abbas/magnum
Our quest for an objective view of the world is thwarted by our personal beliefs
The Believing Brain by Michael Shermer, Times Books , £19.99/$28 Reviewed by Amanda Gefter
YOU are rushing to the airport when a tree falls and blocks the road, causing you to miss your flight. Hours later you learn the plane has crashed and all its passengers are presumed dead. If you are religious, you may interpret the falling tree as a miracle, evidence that a loving God is watching over you. If you aren’t, you will likely see it as an incredibly fortunate fluke. These two interpretations of the same event exemplify Michael Shermer’s view that our beliefs come first and our explanations – or rationalisations – follow. He dubs this concept “beliefdependent realism”, though it is far from a new idea: philosophers of science have long argued that our theories, or beliefs, are the lenses through which we see the
world, making it difficult for us to access an objective reality. So where do our beliefs come from? In The Believing Brain Shermer argues that they are derived from “patternicity”, our propensity to see patterns in noise, real or imagined; and “agenticity”, our tendency to attribute a mind and intentions to that pattern. These evolved skills – which saved our ancestors who assumed, say, a rustling in the bushes was a predator intending to eat them – are the same attributes that lead us to believe in ghosts, conspiracies and gods. In fact, neuroimaging studies have shown that, at the level of the brain, belief in a virgin birth or a UFO is no different than belief that two plus two equals four or that Barack Obama is president of the US. “We can no more eliminate superstitious learning than we can eliminate all learning,” writes Shermer. “People believe weird things because of our evolved need to believe non-weird things.” Yet belief-dependent reality is
not fixed, and the views that frame our individual versions of the world can change. Shermer offers a very personal account of his transition from door-to-door evangelical Christian to publisher of Skeptic magazine. He also acknowledges that the pendulum can swing the other way – as in the case of Francis Collins, former head of the Human Genome Project and current director of the US National Institutes of Health. Collins began as a sceptic, then changed his mind and became “born again”. The book is oddly organised and a chapter on politics strays from the point, but The Believing Brain should nonetheless be required reading. Shermer’s exploration of cognitive biases alone will make even the most rational readers recognise the flaws in their thinking and more closely evaluate their beliefs. His awareness that he too is subject to such flawed thinking makes him a perpetually trustworthy guide. As for our quest for objective reality, Shermer argues that science is our greatest hope. By requiring replicable data and peer review, science, he says, is the only process of knowledge-gathering that can go beyond our individual lenses of belief.
Land of the lost Once and Future Giants by Sharon Levy, Oxford University Press, $24.95/£16.99 Reviewed by Kat Austen
THERE was a time when 3-metre-tall kangaroos ripped branches off trees, and mammoths and mastodons shook the Earth as they trailed between watering holes. Then these enormous creatures disappeared – but why? In Once and Future Giants, Sharon Levy does a marvellous job of explaining the complex and
competing theories behind these mass Pleistocene extinctions, while capturing the fervour and enthusiasm of the scientists who dedicate their lives to solving the mystery. From the arrival of Homo sapiens hunters to the changing climate and vegetation, she tours the factors that may have contributed to the giants’ demise, while making it clear that consensus remains elusive. As well as taking us back in time, Levy immerses us in the worlds of modern megafauna, showing the surprising ways they alter their environment – and how the changing world, in turn, affects them.
Mapping illness Disease Maps: Epidemics on the ground by Tom Koch, University of Chicago Press, £29/$45 Reviewed by Jamie Condliffe
FEW would deny the effectiveness of maps as a way of visualising data. In Disease Maps, Tom Koch celebrates their value in charting illness, and how over the years this has improved medical practice. From the first mappings of plague and yellow fever, through the well-trodden cholera outbreak in Soho, London, during the 1850s, to the spread of the H1N1 flu virus and the computational forecasts that went with it, the book crams in what seems like the entirety of medical cartography. The sheer weight of stories and the comprehensiveness of the evidence backing them up gives them the flavour of exposés, moving from shocking truth to telling revelation. Koch could be accused of packing in too much detail: so dense are the figures, dates and charts that at times it becomes a turgid and slowgoing read. On the whole, though, the effect is oddly satisfying – and geekily moreish. 28 May 2011 | NewScientist | 49
Reality is relative abbas/magnum
Our quest for an objective view of the world is thwarted by our personal beliefs
The Believing Brain by Michael Shermer, Times Books , £19.99/$28 Reviewed by Amanda Gefter
YOU are rushing to the airport when a tree falls and blocks the road, causing you to miss your flight. Hours later you learn the plane has crashed and all its passengers are presumed dead. If you are religious, you may interpret the falling tree as a miracle, evidence that a loving God is watching over you. If you aren’t, you will likely see it as an incredibly fortunate fluke. These two interpretations of the same event exemplify Michael Shermer’s view that our beliefs come first and our explanations – or rationalisations – follow. He dubs this concept “beliefdependent realism”, though it is far from a new idea: philosophers of science have long argued that our theories, or beliefs, are the lenses through which we see the
world, making it difficult for us to access an objective reality. So where do our beliefs come from? In The Believing Brain Shermer argues that they are derived from “patternicity”, our propensity to see patterns in noise, real or imagined; and “agenticity”, our tendency to attribute a mind and intentions to that pattern. These evolved skills – which saved our ancestors who assumed, say, a rustling in the bushes was a predator intending to eat them – are the same attributes that lead us to believe in ghosts, conspiracies and gods. In fact, neuroimaging studies have shown that, at the level of the brain, belief in a virgin birth or a UFO is no different than belief that two plus two equals four or that Barack Obama is president of the US. “We can no more eliminate superstitious learning than we can eliminate all learning,” writes Shermer. “People believe weird things because of our evolved need to believe non-weird things.” Yet belief-dependent reality is
not fixed, and the views that frame our individual versions of the world can change. Shermer offers a very personal account of his transition from door-to-door evangelical Christian to publisher of Skeptic magazine. He also acknowledges that the pendulum can swing the other way – as in the case of Francis Collins, former head of the Human Genome Project and current director of the US National Institutes of Health. Collins began as a sceptic, then changed his mind and became “born again”. The book is oddly organised and a chapter on politics strays from the point, but The Believing Brain should nonetheless be required reading. Shermer’s exploration of cognitive biases alone will make even the most rational readers recognise the flaws in their thinking and more closely evaluate their beliefs. His awareness that he too is subject to such flawed thinking makes him a perpetually trustworthy guide. As for our quest for objective reality, Shermer argues that science is our greatest hope. By requiring replicable data and peer review, science, he says, is the only process of knowledge-gathering that can go beyond our individual lenses of belief.
Land of the lost Once and Future Giants by Sharon Levy, Oxford University Press, $24.95/£16.99 Reviewed by Kat Austen
THERE was a time when 3-metre-tall kangaroos ripped branches off trees, and mammoths and mastodons shook the Earth as they trailed between watering holes. Then these enormous creatures disappeared – but why? In Once and Future Giants, Sharon Levy does a marvellous job of explaining the complex and
competing theories behind these mass Pleistocene extinctions, while capturing the fervour and enthusiasm of the scientists who dedicate their lives to solving the mystery. From the arrival of Homo sapiens hunters to the changing climate and vegetation, she tours the factors that may have contributed to the giants’ demise, while making it clear that consensus remains elusive. As well as taking us back in time, Levy immerses us in the worlds of modern megafauna, showing the surprising ways they alter their environment – and how the changing world, in turn, affects them.
Mapping illness Disease Maps: Epidemics on the ground by Tom Koch, University of Chicago Press, £29/$45 Reviewed by Jamie Condliffe
FEW would deny the effectiveness of maps as a way of visualising data. In Disease Maps, Tom Koch celebrates their value in charting illness, and how over the years this has improved medical practice. From the first mappings of plague and yellow fever, through the well-trodden cholera outbreak in Soho, London, during the 1850s, to the spread of the H1N1 flu virus and the computational forecasts that went with it, the book crams in what seems like the entirety of medical cartography. The sheer weight of stories and the comprehensiveness of the evidence backing them up gives them the flavour of exposés, moving from shocking truth to telling revelation. Koch could be accused of packing in too much detail: so dense are the figures, dates and charts that at times it becomes a turgid and slowgoing read. On the whole, though, the effect is oddly satisfying – and geekily moreish. 28 May 2011 | NewScientist | 49