On paper, Dr. Olivia Doll was a science superstar. With a degree from the Subiaco College of Veterinary Science, she sat on the editorial board of seven medical journals, had a strong publication record and was considered an expert in "the benefits of abdominal massage for medium-sized canines."
Doll's glowing CV included a stint at the "Shenton Park Institute for Canine Refuge Studies" and expertise in the role of "domestic canines in promoting optimal mental health in aging males."
Doll is just one example University of Alberta health law expert Timothy Caulfield uses in his latest non-fiction blockbuster, The Certainty Illusion, to examine the current "infodemic" of junk science and misinformation. Released in early January, the book quickly climbed The Globe and Mail's Canadian non-fiction bestseller list to No. 1, and just behind Cher's memoir on the international non-fiction list at No. 8.
Caulfield says the book's popularity is a sign that people are hungry to understand and resist the current flood of misinformation and disinformation in the world, especially on social media.
A big part of the problem, he argues, aside from conspiracy theories and deliberate disinformation, are scientific journals that take advantage of the intense pressure on academics to publish — what he calls "scienceploitation." Some even charge fees to publish an academic's work, and then fail to apply standard protocols of rigorous peer review, thus polluting the overall body of scientific knowledge.
Canine credentials
The reason Caulfield calls out Olivia Doll is that she's actually a Staffordshire terrier. "Ollie's" bio and CV were created by her owner, a public health researcher at Curtin University in Australia. Mike Daube's intention was to expose the shoddy vetting practices of predatory scientific journals.
When Daube sent Ollie's credentials to a number of journals, several accepted them without question. She was asked to review manuscripts for journals like the Global Journal of Addiction & Rehabilitation Medicine and Psychiatry and Mental Disorders. One editor even wrote to say, "We are delighted to have such an eminent person such as yourself."
"The fact that a dog could sit on seven editorial boards, review papers, and write articles and get them published is astounding," says Caulfield, especially since Daube made no attempt to hide the fact that Ollie was a dog, apart from using a photo of Australian pop star Kylie Minogue as her profile image.
In The Certainty Illusion, Caulfield describes his own transaction with such a journal. Well known for his skepticism (to put it mildly) concerning homeopathy, which he calls "the ultimate fake medicine," he was approached by a journal to write an article on the topic. He submitted a rough draft and under every heading — Introduction, Background, Methods, Results, Discussion and Conclusion — he wrote simply, "Homeopathy is pseudoscience BS."
The paper was accepted without any revisions. A few days later, Caulfield sent in exactly the same document as the finished version and received a satisfied acknowledgement of receipt.
A knowledge crisis in the information age
It's a discouraging example, but Caulfield's book is far from yet another prophecy of doom. Right off the top, he points out that humanity has never had it so good when it comes to accessing accurate information.
"We've never had so much information. We've never had so many diverse researchers doing interesting work. It really should be a magical time.
"Despite that, we are in what I think is a knowledge crisis — a tangle of lies, distortions and rage-filled rants," Caulfield says, much of it fuelled by social media algorithms that thrive on divisive sensationalism.
"This has created a massive paradox: we have more access to more knowledge than ever before and, at the same time, less and less certainty about the issues that matter to us."
While some polling has shown trust in traditional knowledge institutions has eroded over the past decade, Caulfield points to a 2022 international survey finding that, "worldwide, 90 per cent of the public state that they trust science and, despite all the contentious rhetoric during the pandemic, that trust has increased over the past five years."
In a more recent international study — the most comprehensive since the COVID pandemic — researchers from the U of A's Faculty of Agricultural, Life & Environmental Sciences found much the same thing.
Surveying almost 7,200 people in 68 countries, the study's authors found that a clear majority not only trust scientists — finding them qualified (78 per cent), honest (57 per cent) and concerned about people's well-being (56 per cent) — but also believe scientists should be more involved in society and policy-making.
Despite the "infodemic" of false information and fake science floating in cyberspace, most people value truth and accuracy, says Caulfield. True, there is more bunk in circulation than ever before. But most scientific studies published in reputable, peer-reviewed journals are well done with professional standards, and accurate.
Cultivate science literacy
In The Certainty Illusion and on his website #ScienceUpFirst, Caulfield offers advice on how to find accurate information, starting with the cultivation of science literacy.
"First of all, don't be cynical. Know there is good evidence out there. Try to understand how science is done and how evidence is accumulated.
"Ask yourself, what kind of evidence is this — an opinion, an anecdote? Is it a small study or a larger body of evidence? That's one of the simplest things you can do."
Also be on the alert for emotional triggers. Social media algorithms are designed to manipulate grievances, fears, hopes and biases, ensuring the most outrageous messaging gets the most robust circulation, says Caulfield.
"Studies show that if you can disconnect from that, you are less likely to fall for and spread misinformation, and more likely to value accuracy."
The research also shows that around 75 per cent of items on social media are shared without actually clicking through and reading the content.
"Basically, people are just reading the headline, reacting and sending it on. Feelings are definitely winning out over facts," he says.
Watch for "sciencey" language used to sell products or services. It might sound impressive but may not be grounded in evidence. But also be open to changing your mind when you are presented with sound arguments and evidence even if they may not "feel right."
Beware of a logical fallacy called the Galileo gambit. One of the hallmarks for much conspiracy theory is the assumption that truth is deliberately held back from us by the powers that be, so the correct position must be the one that rejects institutional knowledge.
"Often people will say, 'Everyone says I'm wrong, so I must be right.' It really has become a badge of honour — the idea that scientific consensus is somehow groupthink — but nothing could be further from the truth," says Caulfield.
In reality, science is messy, frequently contested and always evolving. Consensus takes time, only after constantly testing and retesting results.
To check your own openness to new ideas and information, Caulfield suggests making a list of the things you've changed your mind about, however slightly, or positions you've modified.
"You should be willing to change your mind," he says. "This is not flip-flopping or something to be ashamed of."
Academics call it intellectual humility, and it goes a long way in the pursuit of truth, says Caulfield, adding that two recent studies found that those who nurture it are less likely to fall for either political or health misinformation.
If you can never admit you're wrong about anything, he says, consider this: research has also found a strong correlation between the psychological trait of narcissism and a belief in conspiracy theories and misinformation.
