1023

I wasn’t able to make Frank Swain’s talk at Westminster Skeptics in the Pub on Monday night, but I did catch up with the uncensored parts on The Pod Delusion Podcast later.

Frank is right when he says that there are a whole host of reasons why people believe, and to convince them we need to meet them on their own turf. If anecdotes convince people to believe, anecdotes will be more effective in convincing them not to believe. (I should clarify that I’m summarising what Frank says, these are my words.)

As an example of a campaign that was not effective, Frank cited 1023.

On the point of 1023 being ineffective, I disagree.

What Frank was saying is that the main message of the 1023 campaign is that “there’s nothing in it”. Homeopaths know there's nothing in it. People who have been shunning real medicine in favour of homeopathy for years know there's nothing in it.

And people who already know there’s nothing in it are not going to be convinced by being told that there’s nothing in it. Frank’s right here - but he’s very wrong when he says that this makes it an ineffective campaign.

A tiny percentage of the population shares our skeptical viewpoint. A larger, yet still small percentage; practice homeopathy.

In the middle sits the vast majority, ready to be plucked by either camp. They go to dinner parties and people tell them they’ve visited a homeopath. They walk past homeopathic practices on their way to work. They’re mostly rational, but don’t know what homeopathy is. They may know there isn’t much evidence to show that it works, but they don’t realise that it’s been tested time after time and shown to be ineffective. They don’t realise that it lacks an active ingredient altogether. They don’t realise that it’s a thoroughly discredited absurdity. They don't realise that there's nothing in it.

It is these people who will be convinced by 1023.

If you’re trying to convince as many people as possible, and are within an environment where the vast majority of people are ignorant yet open minded, only a complete fool would target those who already know about the subject, but are so close minded that they ignore the knowledge they already possess.

I have had a couple of opportunities to speak to open-minded, intelligent audiences on this subject. Most people don’t know what it is. Simply explaining it is all that is required to convince them, completely, that it’s nonsense. It takes minutes.

1023 did this on a mass scale. It was a beautiful, engaging demonstration. Hundreds of people took 42 times the recommended dosage of so called "drugs". This impersonation of a crazed religious sect grasped the attention of newspaper reporters. How can a paper not report a mass drug overdose?

The message was clear: we’re able to do something that seems implausible because we’re using implausible medicine. Or - we’ll be fine: there’s nothing in it.

Of course you won’t convince a homeopath. But that homeopath needs customers. And because of 1023, homeopaths are now operating in an environment where many more people know they’re peddling pills that contain nothing. Their customers are socialising with more people who know the pills contain nothing.

Grow this simple understanding throughout the population and you create an environment where homeopathy will struggle to survive. 1023 did that beautifully.

Frank said people aren’t convinced by facts. Telling a story is in many cases more convincing. So I’ll end with a story. Here it is:

Before I was convinced by facts, I once suggested to someone that they might try visiting a homeopath.

Black Magic Psychic in Leicester

You may have thought that black "magic" was consigned to the Dark Ages or only manifested itself in faraway places such as Haiti. But a man in Leicester who goes by the name of Pandit Harinath Mukya claims he can not only diagnose spells put on you by others, but he can also cast spells to counter them.

I'm always interested in paranormal claims, but was particularly interested in Mukya (pictured), because most self-proclaimed psychics I have previously visited have come from a British cultural background.

It would be interesting to see similar claims originating from an Asian cultural background.

Having said that, I went along expecting readings similar to those I've experienced before – someone making a small amount of money providing simple readings, deluding their clients and themselves into believing their cold reading skills are genuine psychic ability.

What I found, at least to me, appeared very, very different. The entire interaction seemed as if it was designed to separate as much money as possible from the client.

Mukya's operation is run from a terrace house on Paton Street, off Narborough Road, in Leicester's West End.

Having phoned ahead to book a £10 consultation, I arrived to find the bay window decorated with posters advertising his services, and even an A-frame sign outside.

Inside, the front room of the house had been converted into a small shrine. The fireplace was decorated with religious paraphernalia, as was the table we sat at.

Religious posters covered the walls. By contrast, Mukya seemed remarkably unceremonious. He answered the door in jeans and a T-shirt, though he did add what I can only describe as a kind of religious scarf when he sat down.

Mukya's English was poor, but I could follow what he was saying. I was initially sceptical of the professionalism of this operation after he failed to predict my age shortly after I gave him my date of birth.

But it wasn't long before he demonstrated he was serious about this business.

Mukya told me that four of my friends were out to get me, that they were conspiring against me behind my back and this was bringing me bad luck. I had the impression that he was attempting to get me to trust him as the only friend who could help.

It wasn't long before we moved on to the question of money. He could help me but this was going to cost £350. He confirmed that this would take away any bad luck and bring me good luck.

He claimed it was important to start immediately, and asked me how much money I had with me. I opened my wallet to show him that all I had was £15. He suggested that we visit a cash point.

I told him that I didn't have that kind of money – I could only get £200. He said he would help me out, he would use some of his money.

He told me he was my friend – that he was there to help. At the end, he asked me to put all the money I had with me on to the fireplace and we performed what seemed to be some sort of Hindu-style prayer together. He gave me some nice red rice to put in my pocket and keep with me all the time.

Before I left, I confirmed with him that if I returned the next day with £200 all the bad luck would go away. I was there for less than 25 minutes. I was amazed how quickly he had progressed on to such significant money.

I came back the next day and told him apologetically that I could only muster £120. I wanted to drag out this payment as long as possible to enable me to discover more about the operation without parting with much money.

He assured me not to worry, he would help me by using some of his own cash. But we soon reverted back to how much money I could find. He asked how much I could bring the next day, and when I would be able to bring more.

He asked me to come back tomorrow and see how the pooja was going. A pooja is a kind of Hindu prayer or magic spell.

The visit lasted less than seven minutes and I left him with £120.

The third visit was the strangest. After a brief introduction, he immediately guided me upstairs, whereupon a second person started chanting. So far as I could tell, this person only began chanting when he heard us start to ascend the stairs. We entered a room where a man in religious dress was sitting next to a rug covered in what I can only describe as a variety of vegetarian sacrifices. There were a couple of large opened bags of turmeric powder in the centre with some other foodstuffs and the whole rug was circled with about 25 small apples.

This set-up appeared designed to convince me that my money was being well spent on the pooja rather than going straight into his pocket.

When we came back down he told me that he'd performed the same pooja three times already with three more to go and each time the sacrifices were thrown away and replenished. I found that hard to believe.

Again he asked for more money. He tried to convince me again of the costs, saying that they were sure to bring results. In the end, we agreed that I would come back next week with more money. He started hinting at this point that he would just be giving me the names of the people that were conspiring against me rather than removing the bad luck. Once again the consultation was brief. I was there for less than seven minutes.

On my fourth and final visit, I approached with the remaining £80 and looked forward to seeing the names of my four friends who were conspiring against me.

This time inconsistencies started to creep in. Initially, he had told me that he would be able to get the names of my enemies after I had ceremoniously thrown an item into moving water. Then it seems that he had forgotten this, and it no longer seemed important. Secondly, when he revealed the names of the four friends, it turned out that there were only three – and that two of them were not my friends after all, but people who simply knew of me.

The name of the friend was simply given as "John" with no surname. I think I know about 10 Johns.

It was then that the subject turned to money. In order to reverse the pooja, more money was required. I was told that some of the rituals could not be performed in this country for legal reasons and the man I previously saw upstairs had already flown out to India to begin the next stage.

I tried to push him to give me a price for this next stage but he flatly refused.

He did, however, appear to want to prepare me for significant costs. Obviously, if someone needs to go to India, I should be expecting a large figure.

But then he started telling me that the three people conspiring against me had already spent £28,000. The implication was clear – if they'd spent £28,000 I would need to at least match it.

I've visited a few other self-proclaimed psychics in Leicestershire and although I thought none of them demonstrated any real psychic ability, I did get the impression that they believed in what they were doing. I didn't once get that impression with Mukya.

I'm not sure how many people have gone through this operation, but even one person progressing to the next stage would be deeply concerning.

The rented house on Paton Street seems to be dedicated to this purpose, and full colour leaflets are being distributed as far as Oadby, so if nobody had paid money into the scheme, it is unlikely to be financially viable over a period of time.

I brought an audio digital recorder to each of my visits and the sound quality is crystal clear. The recordings have been passed on to trading standards.

The Difficulties with Psychic Photography

My recent article in the Mercury exposed a Leicester psychic attempting to scam a punter (well, me) out of a lot of money. We had a bit of an adventure trying to get a photo for the piece.

The Leicester Mercury sent along a photographer who I met at the end of the street a couple of minutes before my appointment. Our strategy was fairly basic: he'd hide behind a car across the road and I'd knock on the door. When the door was answered, I'd bend down to tie my shoelaces so he could get a clear shot of the guy over my head.

It didn't work. The guy was extremely cautious, first checking at the window before answering the door, and then staying way back in the house when he opened the door. Our photographer just couldn't get a clear shot.

I managed to get this quick shot below while inside. The psychic had asked if I could return for another appointment on Monday, and while I "checked my calendar" on my iPhone, I took this snap.

But we needed better quality for the paper. At this point, I owed him £80 for the fine "work" he'd done so far. To give our hidden photographer another chance, I told him I'd left my wallet in the car. As he opened the door so I could pop back and get it, the photographer tried again. Same problem; the guy was too far back in the house.

The photographer and I met up at the end of the street and hatched a second plan. The operation was being run from a terrace house. The street was one-way and with cars parked on both sides and there was only room for one car to drive down the gap in the middle. The plan was for me to drive back to the house and stop outside the house with the photographer following in the car behind. I'd stop to deliver the money and just when the psychic answered the door, the photographer would beep his horn to get me to move. I'd try and draw the psychic out by saying the cash was in the car. When he came out, the photographer would snap him from the car behind. Hopefully he wouldn't be noticed and our undercover photography mission would be complete.

It didn't work. As soon as I tried to draw the psychic out he got suspicious and hid back into the house, closing the door promptly.

I moved the car and pulled over at the end of the street. The photographer overtook and parked round the corner. A couple of minutes later, the photographer walked back towards my car and shrugged his shoulders to signal that he couldn't get the shot. At this point, I noticed the psychic had come out of the house and was walking towards my car. In a panic, I signalled to the photographer "that's him!". Our undercover photography mission lost some of its clandestine value when the photographer proceeded to take multiple pictures of him using a lens the size of a scuba tank from a distance of approximately two metres.

After a couple of seconds, the photographer realised that he had just been photographing a professional fraudster who most likely was not going to be particularly happy about having his picture taken. Looking around, the only clear route for escape was to jump in the passenger seat of my car. However, being equally worried myself, the doors of my car were firmly locked.

For about 5 seconds the I kept trying to unlock the doors while the photographer prevented me from doing so by franticly pulling on the handle. Eventually he got in and the psychic ran off.

We got a nice, clear shot:

(reduced quality for web publication)

Skeptics in the Pub – Unfair Trade with Dr Madsen Pirie

One way to judge a Skeptics in the Pub event is to count up the number of people sending emails praising the talk and multiply it by the number of people complaining about it.  By this measure, February’s talk on the Fair Trade movement with Dr Madsen Pirie was the top talk so far.

Pirie opened by talking about the “causes of poverty”, arguing that there are none – poverty is the default state.  Our ancestors for millions of years have endured almost nothing but poverty.  The question we should be asking in a time where so many people in the world are wealthy is “what are the causes of wealth?”  His answer was free trade.

Pirie talked as much about the benefits of free trade as he did about the problems caused by the Fair Trade movement, giving us all an overview of the basics of economic theory.  A quick summary of his points follows:

1. By supporting farmers in countries such as Mexico where other opportunities are available, the Mexican farmers continue to compete with Ethiopians.  If the Mexicans changed work, the price of coffee would rise – supporting the world’s poorest farmers who can’t afford to change job.
   
2. By giving a fixed price for coffee, there is no incentive for farmers to produce a higher quality product.  Producing quality goods is the most effective way of achieving a higher price.
   
3. No country has ever escaped poverty through charity.  It has only been done through trade.  Pirie pointed to places like Hong Kong, Japan & Taiwan where they started off with poor sweatshop labour (a small step up from manual agricultural work) and steadily worked their way to wealth.
   
4. That to fight poverty, we should buy as much as possible from poor countries – and campaign to remove the import taxes, quotas, and subsidies such as the CAP which have been so disastrous for the world’s poor.
   

I think Pirie could have done slightly better if he had also touched on the cost of joining the Fair Trade movement.  By charging manufacturers a €1,900 annual certification fee, they pretty much guarantee that the poorest Ethiopians (where the per capita GDP is US$316) cannot join in on the price-fixing cartel.  This explains why so many of the producers are in richer countries like Mexico.  With a per capita GDP of over US$10,000 the Mexicans are rich enough to afford it.

Want to help the world’s poor?  Me too.  That’s why I try to buy goods from producers that are so poor that they can’t afford to join the Fair Trade movement.

With a huge number of Fair Trade supporters in attendance a lively debate was guaranteed – and there was much misinterpretation of what Pirie was saying.  Many present seemed to be under the impression that Pirie was against helping the world’s poor.  It didn’t seem that way to me.  He was simply arguing that the Fair Trade movement was doing more harm than good – and that to really bring the world’s poor away from poverty, we need a method based on sound economic principles.  With Pirie tirelessly campaigning against import taxation, quotas and the Common Agricultural Policy - he’s shown he’s willing to put in the effort, not just talk the talk.

What was very interesting to see is the way some normally critical thinkers who are great fans of the scientific method abandon those critical faculties when it comes to the softer science of economics.  Sure, it seems unintuitive to think that paying more for a good or service will be detrimental to the world’s poor.  But its unintuitive nature is what makes economics, for me, such a fascinating subject.