Die Welle

reddalek

Ahem.

Ahem.

And so I’m almost at my final day of the ‘summer’ left in London! There’s nothing like going out in style though, with lots of nice things like social gatherings, the Torchwood soundtrack (try listening to it whilst walking in the dark) and a surprise (yay!) Lucy visit, which we used to go and see The Wave (Die Welle). This German film based on a ‘possibly’ real-life experiment in the 1960s sees a trendy German high school teacher set up a dictatorial club in order to prove that Nazism could always reoccur, and by the end of the week it’s fallen completely out of control. Not well enjoyed by critics according to the reviews I’ve read, but nevertheless I enjoyed it – although finding bits of it strangely and probably unintentionally funny…

Tonight was the first of an annual re-jigged prizegiving evening at the school (y’know, my old school!) as Katie’s guests (hurrah for her) and it was lovely to see lots of faces again. Including Nirrup, the guy who went to Cambridge a couple of years before me We shared a bond! Also I should give a shout-out to good old Kingz for his successful dealings with the dangerous urban world of Bradford

Bad Science

Bad Science

Although I confidentially wrote a mere two blog posts ago about how much I loved book club, a part of me is clearly in a full-scale rebellion against all of that fiction since last week I ordered both Queueing for Beginners and Bad Science in a non-fiction book buying ‘spree’ (albeit not a numerically very impressive one). The former, by Joe Moran, was actually set for my final essay last term and is just a huge amount of fun, so it should be good to have around in the unlikely event that somebody comes running to me demanding to know more about the history of everyday life. But Bad Science, by Ben Goldacre, is a more important and thus even more wonderful book.

The Bad Science ‘brand’ has actually been around for a while, most prominently as a column in the Guardian, and it’s well worth looking at its own website for more. Essentially, Ben Goldacre is a doctor who devotes some of his life to exposing and debunking a few examples from the vast world of journalistic rubbish written about science, and health in particular. The book is designed to ‘help everyone become a more effective bullshit detector’ (according to the nice quote on the front) and it helpfully outlines everything you need to know to investigate ‘scientific’ claims for yourself. Sadly, it’s also the kind of book which I read – think “but I knew all that!” – and then fail to convince anyone who doesn’t to read it or take it seriously. *sigh*

(It also seems deeply and unsettlingly ironic that now two of my favourite books, The Rebel Sell and Bad Science, tackle psychological issues, logical fallacies and general reasons why people believe strange and untrue things, and of course confirmation bias – or picking out things which agree with what you already believe – is top of the list. But oh no! Isn’t that exactly what I’m doing? I certainly can’t deny that reading things which cleverly and wittily argue things I already believe makes me happy. And whilst it is really annoying when people conceive of great conspiracy theories which they alone can perceive – MMR will kill me! Everyone is so conformist and doesn’t think for themselves! – does being ‘one of the few’ (ahem) to debunk those ideas morph into being exactly the same thing? Argh! The perils!)

But seriously, Bad Science touches me deeply because it taps into one of the things I find most depressing of all in the world: attitudes to science. And I say this in the position of not being a scientist myself. I’m hugely ignorant about (statistically speaking) around 100% of how things work, and so are most people. But so what? Just because you don’t understand any one particular scientific theory, why does that have to impair an understanding of science itself – which is, I try to say again and again and again, a method, not a body of facts. Science is so often accused of being:

(a) boring
(b) closed-minded
(c) complicated

which I just utterly fail to understand. To take them one by one:

(a) scientific explanations are invariably more interesting than any ‘alternatives’. As Bad Science notes along with many other people, evolution is just simply a more interesting thing than creationism. The placebo effect is so, so much cooler than rubbish like homoeopathy. In fact, why people believe homoeopathy in the first place is vastly more interesting than homoeopathy.

(b) science is the only system of knowledge acquisition I can think of which is not just perpetually changing but has perpetual change built right in. Any theory can be toppled with enough evidence, and the real business of science is lots of human, utterly fallible scientists all shouting and disagreeing with each other. For some entirely inexplicable reason, this is ‘closed-minded’.

(c) when someone asks me to fix their computer, I tend to keep everything the same apart from one thing which is changed. So if the ‘Internet isn’t working’, you don’t buy a new router and network adaptor, reinstall Windows and switch broadband providers all in one go and then see if it works again. Obviously. I was taught to try and keep all variables bar one the same in something like Year 4, and surely that’s just common sense anyway. And science should make sense most of the time, since it’s only trying to describe the same real world that we all live in. Even when it initially seems counterintuitive, it shouldn’t be too hard to see beyond that. After all, just about everyone in the world has marvelled over the optical illusion where one line looks longer than the other, and people don’t walk away from that confused.

Anyway. Just read the book

(And finally, in the interests of showing that science is not about the inevitable fallacies of individual scientists, here’s one paragraph from the book which, to quote the sensible person who noted it, “commits many of the sins he spends a whole book castigating bad reporters of science about in just one paragraph”.)

“The argument was whether you are a body or have a body…”

“And you said you are a body, right?”

“Of course. Obviously your name stands for an abstracted personality and so on, but ultimately it’s all comes down to the physical. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Well yes… I am a materialist too”

“I thought so”

“Although it is confusing when I say that, and people ask how a communist can be a materialist”

“Yeah, but those people are idiots. And I suppose that materialism is the common root our beliefs branch from…”

“Exactly”

“High five for materialism!”

*high fives*

[Note for extreme pedants: we’re not necessarily talking materialism in the ultra-strictest sense – i.e. troubled by dark matter and quantum physics – but certainly no place for the soul. As if anyone read this and was subsequently deeply troubled by that thought… ]

“Ah – this isn’t a good feeling. I have a week before I go back to Cambridge and so many things to do! Many of them are fun things – little, cool projects to complete – but somehow it all seems to take ages to get through and the to-do lists never shrink, even when I’m in a productive mood. Argh… hopefully tomorrow will bring better fortune with this

…Well, indeed it did. For this was how my blog was going to begin last night, before writing a blog got added to the list of things I hadn’t managed to achieve during the day. By comparison, today was masterfully productive! I still have lots of things to do, but it’s not the counsel of despair of last night and this is a Very Good Thing.

Way back last Saturday night I went to see The Boy In The Striped Pyjamas with Josh(ua), Sanna and Dom from a parallel universe. It was a rather appropriate film to see given the previous blog post, and whatever its flaws (and it did have flaws) it was the kind of film which makes enough brave choices for you not to care. Without wanting to spoil anything, I can’t remember the last time I sat through a film’s credits in sombre silence, and even after we’d left no-one really wanted to say much. So consider it recommended – through try to see it in a cinema without a loud couple who clearly weren’t affected enough by the prospect of the Holocaust to shut up.

Book Club! I love book club (although I just wrote boob club by accident, which is obviously what racier people do with their lives) even though unsynchronised summer holidays have delayed our progress a bit, and on Sunday we compromised with a book club meeting involving no books and Futurama’s The Beast with a Billion Backs instead. Which was much better than my initial impressions allowed for, actually. But tomorrow should see a proper meeting, depending on whether Saoirse really can speed through Lady Chatterley’s Lover in one night, and then that’s sadly probably it until the next round of holidays! (I do have opinions about Lady Chatterley, but I shall reserve them until after the official discussion.)

Wednesday was Lucy’s birthday (happy birthday!) and we ended up rather curiously at Warwick Castle, which contained a particularly sensitive and delicately presented exhibit on a sad tale of murder and intrigue. Well actually, it was called ‘Ghosts Alive!’ and consisted of actors jumping out and shouting at you, and I only bring up the issue of Lucy’s jumpiness for the following reasons:
(a) I have inadequate faith it will be reported in all accuracy on her own blog
(b) It led to the utter hilarity of a French man quite openly pointing, laughing, conferring with his friends and then pointing and laughing a second time. Hehe

Finally, I have to report I have finally reached the exciting milestone – with Oliver and Abi’s careful encouragement – of having watched all of the original* Star Wars films. Woo!

(*Please do not comment with something along the lines of: ‘Pah, you’ve just seen the endlessly-tinkered-about-with-versions, where somebody shot in the wrong order!’)

Note to readers: I’m going to do the Holocaust bit first, if that’s OK with you.

So today – when I could have been doing productive work! – I instead visited the Imperial War Museum with my grandparents. Oddly – and I say oddly because I would have perhaps expected the reverse – they went off to see the James Bond exhibition whilst I instead spent my hour studying the Holocaust. What surprised me about the exhibition – and it’s a tribute to how well it was put together – was that I was totally engrossed, despite the fact that Nazi Germany always threatens to be so over-studied and revisited (UKTV History anyone?) that it becomes too familiar and stale. Well, this wasn’t, and it was fascinating. Not so much the actual Holocaust itself – for the stories of concentration camps and gas chambers are dark horror but also intensely alien and unfamiliar – but the years leading up to it, with video footage of Jewish shops being guarded by the SS, memories of children suddenly being bullied at school and the steady build-up of Nazi power. You could picture elder Germans, unimpressed by impressionable youth marching in uniform, musing over meals and drinks that this was bound to be a phase – a short bout of nationalistic fervour led by a charismatic orator whose star would surely soon fade – and then realising one by one that things weren’t going to snap back to normal.

And in a way it’s unfortunate that we look back at this happening in Germany, with the slight reassurance of distance that it didn’t happen here. Because although most people would readily accept that the phenomenon wasn’t intrinsically ‘German’, that it ‘could have happened here too’ (or perhaps, a tad over-confidentially, argue that it has or is) the fact is that there’s still a too easy association to make between Germany and the Nazis, as if it didn’t happen in our own civilisation, our own way of living with cities and bureaucracy and respectable modernity. I’m thinking especially of the postcard comment at the end of the exhibition which was divided between the ‘good guys’ (British, Americans – and then, added a touch hesitantly, Jews) against the ‘bad guys’ (Germans). I really hope that was ironic.

Anyway, before I ramble on disconnectedly, let me finally add that I had forgotten that my Grandpa left Germany for Britain at the age of 8 in 1936. 1936! That’s cutting it a bit fine, surely? I’m feeling rather lucky that Britain has always been a bit rubbish at actually getting around to stopping those bloody foreigners coming over here and expanding the pool of goods and services to be bought and sold taking our jobs…

Sorry if I’ve depressed anyone Here’s a photo or two from Tuesday night!

Look at all that yummy spaghetti

Look at all that yummy spaghetti

Shiny happy people

Shiny happy people

Enthralled

Enthralled