Proof that Power Balance bands work!

Or not. I suspect that England's marvellous, historic Ashes victory (which I've already promised not to gloat over) is more to do with superior skill, preparation and execution over an unusually aimless Australian team, than a silly, rather expensive rubber band that has been shown not to have any magic properties whatsoever, whose manufacturer has been forced to issue a statement retracting its claims.

Power Balance Australia said: ‘In our advertising, we stated that Power Balance wristbands improved your strength, balance and flexibility.

‘We admit that there is no credible scientific evidence that supports our claims and therefore we engaged in misleading conduct in breach of s52 of the trade practices act 1974.’

Perhaps if Ricky Ponting had bought a Placebo Band, things might have worked out very differently.

12 reasons even a skeptic can be skeptical about

Pharyngula's highlighted an article from Oprah.com citing 3 mysteries that science, apparently, can't solve. (I think it was 6, but they were cut upon the realisation that science had, in fact, solved them.)

Being the inquisitive type, I clicked through from that article onto one by a Lisa Kogan which promised "12 reasons why even a skeptic can believe". Bearing in mind Carl Sagan's maxim "Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence", I dived in headfirst.

The effect is jaw-dropping. "Look, honey!" I whisper, "Mary Poppins is suspended in midair!" My darling little 7-year-old glares at me as though I am certifiably insane and whispers back, "Mommy, that's an actress and I can see the strings."

So your daughter's already smarter than you are. Good start.

To cut a long and coma-inducing story short, here are her 12 reasons to believe, handily set out in month format.

January: Lisa falls while ice-skating and doesn't break any bones.

February: Lisa and her partner's relationship has endured for 17 years.

March: Lisa has lost four pounds.

April: Eva Cassidy's voice.

May: The season of spring, more precisely

the sun and cherry trees and open windows and linen skirts and iced cappuccinos that cost more than my father's first car.

June: A baseball umpire admits his mistake in calling a batsman safe (something like that, I fail to comprehend America's bizarre sporting rituals. You should have stuck to cricket).

July: A Christian Republican promises to support Obama on immigration reform (but only if he's right, the conditions for which remain unspoken).

August: Lisa has forgotten how long it's been since she saw Dennis Quaid in an apparently forgettable movie.

September: Lisa's friend is pregnant and looking forward to the "miracle" of birth.

October: Another friend helps people who have cancer but no money.

November: Thanksgiving dinner passes without the extended family at each other's throats.

December: A tapestry from the 17th century hangs in a cathedral (looks like she was getting a bit desperate for evidence).

Tonight I will sit down with Julia and tell her the story of my year spent searching for miracles. "The thing is," I'll explain, "nobody really has to go looking for a miracle because it turns out, they're usually pretty close to home." They come tiptoeing in while you're watching a no-hitter or folding laundry or tapping a rock-hard pumpkin muffin against the kitchen counter. They're in tapestries that survive hundreds of years, and parents who survive the morning onslaught, and people who don't have enough food to make it through another day, and somehow make it anyway.

Oh yeah? What about the tapestries that didn't survive, and tha families that broke up, and the cancer patients who died anyway, and the women who had miscarriages, and the people who put on weight, and...

Don't be fooled, Julia. Question what your parents tell you, listen to reason, look for rational explanations, and remember - the woo-meisters, fakers and charlatans are out there, still trying to deceive you. Be on your guard.

10 Reasons Why My Life Is Richer For Not Having Faith

1. I have Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays free.

2. I can grow (or cut) my beard whenever I please.

3. I don't have to worry about the precise method used to kill the animal whose cooked meat occupies my plate.

4. I don't look at a cockroach and think, "I hope I don't turn into one of those when I die".

5. Wine is, rather than part of an ancient cannibalistic ritual, only a good way to get drunk.

6. My foreskin is intact.

7. Instead of wondering what plans the deity has for me today, I can make my own.

8. I can experience whatever I choose without having to worry about whether it's offensive to a god.

9. I question, I doubt, I weigh up evidence, and I need take nothing on blind faith.

10. I know that I, my partner, and my children are amazing because we are products of billions of years of evolution, and there are endless discoveries, already made by others, or yet to be made, that will amaze me further. And I've got the rest of my short, natural lifespan to enjoy them.


Any other suggestions?

Religion, Skepticism, and me

I was brought up as a Christian. My parents were, are, Methodists, a fairly restrained branch of the faith, and I dutifully went to church every Sunday, was a member of the Boy's Brigade, went to various Christian holiday clubs in which the Bible was studied - at one point, I could recite all the books of the Bible, Old and New Testaments, in order ( in contrast, now I can barely get past Leviticus. And let's face it, who'd want to?)

In all that time, I never once had what might be called a religious experience. All that praying (in church - I don't recall ever asking God for guidance while I was alone), communion taking, Bible study (and I was part of competition winning Bible study teams) I can say that I never felt the presence of God, or anything else supernatural.

On the other hand, I did develop strong liberal tendencies, at odds with religious expression. I recall, in a religious studies class at secondary school, when I was about 15, arguing that abortion should be a matter for the individual woman in question. One of the other students asked me if I was a Christian, and without thinking, I replied "Yes". Immediately, I doubted my statement. That was the end of any lingering religious faith. Soon after, church on a Sunday was replaced with long walks, or visits to the gym. Religion disappeared from my mind.

Reading The God Delusion last year made a huge impression on me. I think it was the first time I'd read anything on the question of God's existence that actually struck a chord with me. The passionate logic, the relentless rationality, was almost thrilling to read. Suddenly, here was someone explaining why religion left me so cold and unpersuaded.

Skepticism came into my life as an extension of that first encounter with Dawkins. I eagerly devoured further skeptical reading material - blogs like Pharyngula, Respectful Insolence, and Skepchick, podcasts like Skeptics' Guide to the Universe, articles by Christopher Hitchens, and many other sources.

Skepticism grounds me. It's taught me how to weed out the hocus pocus, and the woo, and the plain misleading. It gives me a reference point - I know which sources I can trust, not because of blind faith, but because their logic and reasoning make sense to me. It's shown me how to question information and perspectives, and that my own beliefs need to be challenged and modified when necessary.

I will continue my journey in life, not travelling down every dead end that presents itself and not with an absolute knowledge of my course, but with a reliable compass and a confident hand on the tiller. Maybe someone might gain inspiration from me, as I have from so many others.


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Crackpot conspiracy theories

I've been having a discussion with a friend on Facebook about a status post he, and other friends of mine, have recently posted.

In a nutshell, the post criticises the UK government for sending £60 million in aid to Pakistan, to help in dealing with the flooding there. It contrasts this with the fact that British soldiers are dying in Afghanistan, apparently from having incorrect equipment.

I checked out some facts and lo and behold, the UK defence budget for 2009 was £36 billion, compared to which £60 million is a drop in the ocean. The tone of the post is disturbingly xenophobic, and I took my friend to task for posting casually racist nonsense to his profile, when I know perfectly well he's not like that at all.

Further on in the conversation, he clarified his views, expounding a number of what I consider to be crackpot ideas, such as "religion destroys spirituality, doctors destroy health, universities destroy knowledge", all apparently in the name of open-mindedness. He even directed me to a video called "The Obama Deception", made by a guy called Alex Jones, which put forward the theory that Obama is a puppet of the New World Order, a secret cabal of super rich banking types who want to take over the world by stealth.

It's one thing to be skeptical, but it's quite another to be so open to alternative views that you get swamped by bullshit. By all means keep an open mind, and listen to a variety of news sources, but there's a point in all areas of debate where you have to say, "this is crap".

I hope my friend will, in time, modify his views a little and become a little more skeptical, in the rational, reason-based sense. At the very least, I anticipate some interesting arguments.



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