By Paul Rodgers
If it were up to me, magic would work. Much of my teens were spent in an imaginary land full of elves and dwarves, steeped in the lore of Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings and games such as Dungeons & Dragons. Who could resist the idea that waving a wand or drinking a potion could solve life’s problems?
As an adult, though, I found that magic doesn’t work, and science does. Yet the NHS, an institution that should be a bastion of science, continues to spend millions of pounds a year – for remedies, staff and the upkeep of four specialist hospitals – on homeopathy, a practice with no scientific basis whose origins lie in Renaissance alchemy. At best, homeopathy is an expensive placebo, but in leaching scarce resources from treatments that are effective, and by distracting patients from seeking proper medical care, it causes real harm. That kind-hearted Britons are being encouraged to give money to pay for a group of homeopaths to go to Haiti to treat earthquake victims is scandalous.
Let’s be clear. Homeopathy is not the same as herbalism, which has some scientific merit. Its main principle, that “like-cures-like”, dates back to Paracelsus, a 16th century physician, astrologer and occultist who believed that if you suffered from, say, stomach cramps, the cure should be something that causes stomach cramps. The problem – obviously, you might think – was that this “cure” often made things worse. Two centuries later, Samuel Hahnemann, a German physician, realised that diluting the like-cures-like medicines reduced their toxic effects, though not, he claimed paradoxically, their efficacy.
And so homeopathy was born. Minute doses of the active ingredients are diluted so much that your chance of finding even one atom of it in your pricey sugar pills could be as low as one in a trillion. Exotic explanations for this vary widely, often involving the sort of pseudoscientific gobbledygook that is the stock in trade for Star Trek scriptwriters. One common idea is that water can “remember” which active ingredient used to be present (though apparently it forgets the myriad other contaminants that have been removed). As David Colquhoun, a professor of pharmacology at University College London, put it: “If homeopathy worked, the whole of chemistry and physics would have to be overturned”. Even some of the purveyors of these snake oils don’t have much faith in them. Paul Bennett, the professional standards director at Boots, one of the country’s biggest homeopathic retailers, admitted in November that “I have no evidence before me to suggest that they are efficacious.”
The Commons Science and Technology Select Committee – which reported on 22 February on its investigation into this “alternative therapy” – concluded that public funding for this hocus pocus should be cut. Even research into it should be abandoned as a waste of money. The MPs should go further. Homeopaths should be held legally responsible if they prescribe their placebos for conditions which demand proper medical attention. In Australia, two homeopaths, husband and wife, were jailed last autumn for gross criminal negligence over the death of their nine-month-old baby in 2002. The baby had severe eczema and died of septicaemia after her parents tried to treat her homeopathically. Even the placebo effect doesn’t work on babies.
Homeopaths will counter that they have several centuries worth of experience during which they’ve given their tonics to patients who have subsequently recovered. The flaw here is clear. Just because a treatment precedes a recovery does not mean it caused the recovery. Often patients seek help when their symptoms are worst, when the only way they could change is to get better. The argument that, in a free country, people should be allowed to choose what therapies they take is stronger, but only if patients are told the facts about those nostrums. And once they know that they’re getting a placebo, its effectiveness will mostly crumble. It has also been suggested that homeopathy helps GPs divert chronic time-wasters. Convenient, perhaps, but dishonest; like magic potions, lies have no place in a doctor’s black bag.
The defence of journalism and climate science in 2010
By Aine Gormley
Legal and moral issues on climate science have made a splash in 2010. This week, a leading climate scientist is suing Canada’s National Post for libel. In the UK, a climate scientist recently lodged a complaint to the Press Complaints Commission about the Sunday Times. The parliamentary inquiry into the behaviour of climate scientists also received ample coverage. But what legal issues surround these cases, particularly in light of the growing campaign for libel reform?
Simon Lewis, a researcher in human-induced climate change at the University of Leeds has filed a 31-page official complaint to the Press Complaints Commission (PCC).
Lewis complains that an article published in the Sunday Times breaches the PCC Editor Code of Practice Point One, Section i, which states “The Press must take care not to publish inaccurate, misleading or distorted information, including pictures.”
The issue is that, in the article by Jonathan Leake, Lewis’ name was apparently used to back up a claim that the science behind the IPCC report was unsubstantiated where it refers to global warming wiping out 40 per cent of the Amazon Rainforest.
This year's controversy surrounding the IPCC report began in 2009 when email were leaked from the Climate Research Unit at the University of East Anglia (pictured). Image credit: ChrisO
But Lewis said that this claim in the IPCC report is “basically correct, but poorly written.” Thus he maintains that his name and the science were misrepresented.
After the complaint was filed, the Sunday Times left a voicemail for Lewis stating, “It has been recognised that the story was flawed.”
Lewis says that, “The Sunday Times should simply take the piece down and issue a retraction and apology.”
The paper has, so far, only changed the online article title, from ‘UN climate panel shamed by bogus rainforest claim’, to ‘The UN climate panel and the rainforest claim’.
There is no legal obligation to be truthful as long as the reputation of the subject is not adversely affected. So, if the article drove an impression to the readers about Lewis’ integrity, he may have grounds to sue for defamation. But, if the paper could then, for example, prove the statement to be true, it may be covered by the defence of justification.
However, Lewis went to the PCC, not the courts. The PCC does insist on a moral obligation for journalists to be truthful. Thus, possible outcomes of this case are that the PCC will insist the Sunday Times editor take action such as publishing a correction or an apology.
George Monbiot is doubtful of this. “Good luck to Lewis, but as the PCC’s treatment of the News of the World phone-hacking scandal suggests, he’s likely to find himself shut out of another closed world – journalism – in which self-regulation manifestly doesn’t work,” Monbiot said in a recent blog post.
In Canada, Andrew Weaver, a climate scientist at the University of Victoria, has taken his case to the next level. He is suing the National Post for libel after they refused to remove online articles that will, according to Weaver, “poison the factual record, misleading people who are looking for reliable scientific information about global warming,” he recently told the Guardian.
According to the lawsuit, the articles make defamatory claims because readers are lead to believe that Weaver conceals scientific data and is driven by a corrupt pursuit to gain government funding.
Complaints to publishers, such as those from Lewis, seem to be occurring more often. But Weaver’s case appears to be the first lawsuit to be filed between a climate change scientist and the media. So is it likely to be the first of many?
Like the UK, libel laws in most of Canada are more plaintiff-friendly than its counterparts in the US. The New York Times Co v Sullivan (1964) case in the US altered the libel laws so that the publisher was only at fault if false information was published out of malice.
The "McLibel" two were involved in the longest running libel case in UK history. Image credit: Spanner Films
In the UK, a paper can be sued for publishing something even if the public has a right to know. It is only considered in defences such as the Reynolds defence, which originated from the Reynolds v Times Newspapers (1999) case. This allows a series of factors to be considered in defence of the publication, such as the urgency of the matter and the tone of the article.
Another defence that the public’s right to know is considered is in the defence of fair comment. But this can be difficult to prove. Clive Coleman, a BBC legal affairs analyst said, “In defending a libel action the difference between a statement of verifiable fact and one of opinion can be crucial.”
But this month saw a historic ruling from the UK Court of Appeal when it was decided that Simon Singh, who was being sued for libel, had the right to use the defence of fair comment, which the judges clarified as honest opinion.
The charity Sense About Science published this button in support of Simon Singh’s case.
Robert Dougans, Singh’s lawyer, said, “the judgment is clear that not only should the courts be ready to find that a statement is honest opinion, but that scientists should be able to engage in debate and research without facing expensive litigation.”
But Singh was defending his own journalism. Whereas Weaver and Lewis have built a case against the actions of journalists.
Perhaps the contrast between these legal and moral issues in science journalism highlights the need for trained science journalists reporting on scientific issues. Or perhaps they highlight the need for libel reform so that scientists and journalists (and those dabbling in both) are able to act in the public interest.
In the wake of his victory, Singh announced that our politicians must act on libel reform. All three major political parties have now pledged reforms of the libel law in their General Election Manifestos.