Inspired by our long, epidemic The video conferencing moment comes with a number of benefits, including the comfort of surviving just the part from the waist down (in my case, wearing basketball shorts and house shoes under the reach of the webcam) how it encouraged us to be creative in our approach to sharing our work.
In March 2021, I was able to present a research seminar at the University of Chicago to largely terribly well-remembered people with lots of respect – without any screaming or risky risk towards me.
The freedom of video conferencing encouraged me to try different things. For this seminar, I have devoted valuable time to telling the audience about the predictions and assumptions that were wrong. Not about my broken NCAA brackets, not about my initial assumptions and predictions about the Covid-1p epidemic that were wrong. By doing this I was giving myself an intellectual challenge (to say something smart about being wrong) as well as anticipating my insecurities, impostor syndrome and masks for fear of talking to an audience of extremely smart people. This tactic is nothing more than a bit of hypocrisy: by spreading a misconception in front of everyone, I was signaling how horrible it really was.
There were no self-serving aspects of the approach, however, the only motivations I had to admit were wrong. Over the past year I have been frustrated by the general reluctance of the scientific community to discuss publicly when and why we are wrong, and especially in our studies and epidemic notifications. The reluctance to highlight what we did wrong was a missed opportunity to teach the public about the scientific process, to fully demonstrate its necessary ups and downs.
The hatred of discussing our wrongdoing has had serious consequences: we have (perhaps unknowingly) imprinted our confidence in ideas that were still underdeveloped, alienated many from legitimate questioners, and (ironically) made flames of misinformation and deformation. For example, Quacks has created a mass-edit by prominent scientists to talk about the 2020 Covid-19, a different thing in August and something else in November. As a response, we mostly offer the same flabbergasted response: “Common. It’s wrong, and science doesn’t work that way.” However, some of our responses are missing: we may be part of the problem.
Who refers to the inability of scientists to deal with errors, flaws or weak predictions?
It would be easy to pin it on big egos scientists of infamous size. And while Ehos encourages many problems in science, I suspect that the real reasons for our Covid-19 stubbornness are more complex.
From the very beginning of the epidemic, misinformation and chaos were not merely a nuisance, the definition of power was given in the global response. And their influential authors not only renewed “physicians” with YouTube channels, but government officials were directly responsible for the epidemic policy.
At the very least, bad information set off a public conversation about covid science. The truth is even more grim: Suspicion inspired by bad faith actors drives formal public health policies (or non-policies). Skepticism and science denial were far more jute than a Twitter spot winner. Common unknown weapons were used, and many cowardly lies were actively orchestrated and propagated in order to cast doubt on the way science works, sometimes for political gain.
Faced with this, the uncertainty and reluctance of the scientific community to come to terms with missteps is not only understandable, but also appropriate: there is a time and place for abstract debate about the true meaning of “efficacy” and acting time for the information we have for the public good. The epidemic and the millions of lives (worldwide) we’ve lost in its place, qualifying as such a big emergency that anyone can forgive a little heartbroken Bravado: We’re scientists, we’ve spent decades studying this stuff, and your bullshit is hurting people.. We, the experts and the informed citizen-science public, know that science is a process that cannot exist without collecting new information and eliminating old ideas. But most people are unaware of how this process actually works. Our “believe me, I’m a scientist” appeals can be misleading.