I want to be up front with all of you today. I have very mixed feelings about being here—about debating someone who still rejects the established fact of our biological evolution. Let me say that again. Evolution—meaning that we are ancient cousins of apes and whales and starfish—is a scientifically settled fact, as much so as the fact that our sun gives off heat. Thus, there’s something surreal about this debate.

So, why am I here? Have I actually deluded myself into thinking that I have some silver bullet arguments to convert the creationists in today’s audience? Hardly, as I discovered from decades of frustrating personal experiences. The only way creationists have been defeated, so far, from introducing their anti-evolution beliefs into public school science classes has been in court cases where their phony science has been exposed.

So, again, why am I here today? Because I believe that science educators have a duty to defend the scientific method from irrational attacks. I also feel a moral obligation toward those in the audience who are still undecided—those whose minds haven’t already been snapped shut by anti-evolution religious dogmas. I feel strongly that the fake science of the creationists must not be imposed on captive students in our public schools. That’s why I agreed to debate today. Even so, there are excellent reasons for science educators to not debate the anti-evolutionists.

First, in science’s search for truth, it’s the rigorous application of the scientific method that counts, not oratory skills. Yet, repeatedly, the overwhelming majority of debates before public audiences are won not by the actual scientific content but by the emotional rapport, public speaking skills, likeability, and believed authority of the debaters. How could it be otherwise, given the audience’s lack of expertise in being able to recognize fake science?

The creationists know this and most are excellent debaters, now with impressive and entertaining PowerPoint presentations. In fact, several Christian fundamentalist colleges are now churning out lawyers and other graduates who are highly skilled in debating and in defending conservative Christian “science.”

A second reason for not debating is that there is no such thing as bad publicity for the creationists. If a scientist debates, it’s “proof” that a scientific controversy actually exists. If he declines, it’s “proof” that evolutionists are running scared.

Let’s not kid ourselves. Regardless of superficial scientific appearances, intelligent design was fabricated by a handful of Christian apologists with the mission of discrediting evolution and of bringing conservative Christian values into public school classrooms. The scientific evidence for evolution is ultimately irrelevant to the faithful, since their “truths” come straight from God.

A third reason for not debating today is that creationists can churn out more scientific misinformation in thirty minutes than I could possibly refute in a week, as I’ve personally discovered. Creationists know that the student audience does not have the necessary expertise in evolutionary biology, historical geology, anthropology, and paleontology to be able to separate out scientifically solid evidence from half-truths, poor logic, outdated references, misleading quotations, selective data, and outright falsehoods.

A fourth reason for not debating creationists is that in debates equal time is given to both sides. Yet, the scientific method is not about equal time but about the rigorous evaluation of all the evidence on all sides. To require science teachers to “teach the controversy,” to give equal time to evolution and ID is, in essence, to require teachers to lie to their students. Unfortunately, this appeal for equal time has been an effective propaganda tool for the creationists for decades. Many powerful politicians continue to support these efforts.

A fifth reason for not debating creationists is that these debates are also publicity stunts to increase the membership of Christian clubs on campuses. Such clubs now number in the tens of thousands. Most are spreading falsehoods regarding evolution, thus creating serious obstacles to the ongoing science education of students. Remember, anti-evolutionists are also trying to convince students to reject large chunks of well-established physics, chemistry, astronomy, anthropology, and geology.

To make matters worse, most of these Christian clubs also hold religious beliefs that can seriously interfere with rational, compassionate, and scientifically informed decisions related to other vitally important areas such as emergency contraceptive pills, the abortion pill, gay rights, death with dignity, and overpopulation.

And then there’s the extremely scary Armageddon theology belief currently held by millions of Americans. After all, why be concerned about destroying our planet’s life-support systems when the destruction of the world is already inevitable as foretold in Scripture?

Today the United States is being confronted with large numbers of scientifically ignorant, politically active Christians who are locked into ultra-religious, anti-scientific views and who want to force these views on others through our elected officials, our courts, and our schools. That’s why I’m here today.

According to a spokesman for the Hornbeck family, following the Montel broadcast Browne tried to get money from the family: “She called Pam and Craig about one month after the show and pretty much offered her services to continue their discussion for a fee. Pam was that desperate that if she had had $700 in her bank account she would have put it on the table. We are talking about a mother who would have sold her soul to have her boy back.”

In fact, Hornbeck and another boy were found very much alive January 16, 2007, in the home of Michael Devlin, a Missouri man accused of kidnapping them. Hornbeck had been missing for four years, but his parents had not given up hope of finding him despite Browne’s misinformation. Devlin, a Caucasian, is not Black, dark-skinned, nor Hispanic and almost certainly did not have dreadlocks at the time he allegedly abducted Hornbeck.

Within days of Hornbeck’s recovery, critics such as James “The Amazing” Randi spoke out against Browne. CNN’s Anderson Cooper featured Randi and gave refreshingly skeptical (and harsh) coverage of the case, calling attention to Browne’s highest-profile failure to date. Browne, in a statement posted on her Web site, responded to the criticism, stating that “I have never nor ever will charge anyone who seeks my help regarding a missing person or homicide. In these cases I choose to work strictly with law enforcement agencies involved to aid and not impede their work and only when asked. To be accused of otherwise by James Randi and others like him is a boldface [sic] lie. . . . If the brilliant scientists throughout history had a James Randi negating every aspect of their work, I doubt we would have progressed very far in medicine or in any technology. . . . I cannot possibly be 100 percent correct in each and every one of my predictions.”

Yet her documented track record is one of nearly 100 percent failure rate instead of 100 percent success. Browne’s confidence in her body of work is baffling, and her claim that her flawed visions were “one human error” is an amazing understatement.

Around the turn of the last century, theatergoers could enjoy many different forms of entertainment, including drama, music, comedy, and . . . wait for it . . . science shows. Surprising as it may now seem, leading scientists of the day were prepared to take off their lab coats, put on some greasepaint, and tread the boards. Packed houses would watch in awe as these learned men demonstrated the very latest scientific advances, including electrical wonders, amazing chemical reactions, and the marvels of magnetism. Unfortunately, this heady mixture of entertainment and science didn’t stand the test of time, and within a few years the scientific showmen found themselves out of the limelight and back in the less glamorous world of lecture theaters and public halls.

Fast-forward about a century or so to late 2001, when I received a telephone call from science writer Simon Singh. Simon and I first met about ten years ago when we worked together on an episode of the well-known BBC television science program Tomorrow’s World. Simon had called to ask if I was interested in being involved in a joint project. He thought it would be fun for us to turn back the hands of time and co-present a science show at a London theater. I was initially skeptical for two reasons. First, it wasn’t my idea. Second, I wasn’t convinced that the latest discoveries in physics and mathematics would really hold the attention of a modern audience. Sure, there were lots of successful science shows for children, and even some aimed at family audiences, but Simon wanted to move beyond that. He was eager to reach regular theatergoers, essentially asking them to choose science over Shakespeare. The challenge seemed considerable, but it was an interesting idea, and I agreed to be involved.

Simon persuaded The National Endowment for Science, Technology, and the Arts (NESTA) to fund the project, and he invited theater director Portia Smith to help create the show. After much deliberation, we settled upon the title Theatre of Science, and set about finding an off-West End venue in London. Our initial approaches were met with a dispiriting mixture of disbelief and skepticism, with several theater managers telling us that a science show simply wouldn’t attract an audience. However, persistence paid off, and we eventually found a venue willing to host the show. The Soho Theatre is located in the heart of London’s theater district, and has forged a considerable reputation for staging unusual and cutting edge performances. The Soho’s manager liked the idea of taking science out of the lab and onto the stage and offered us a run at his theater.

After a few days of rehearsal, the show started to take shape. The first half involved Simon illustrating various aspects of probability theory by demonstrating gambling scams and undertaking bets with members of the audience. After a short interval, I explored the psychology of deception and lying with the help of magic tricks and optical illusions. Strictly adhering to a “show don’t tell” principle, rule, both halves involved as much audience interaction as possible. For example, when discussing the efficacy of lie detectors, we hooked up an audience member to a polygraph and projected that person’s physiological data live onto a large screen as he attempted to deceive the audience. We also thought it a good idea to inject some comedy into the proceedings. Simon started off the show by using mathematics to “prove” that the Teletubbies are evil, and undermined The Bible Code by pointing out that the same principles can be used to demonstrate how the death of Diana Princess of Wales was “predicted” within the pages of Moby Dick. We also made a conscious decision to construct a show that was decidedly low-tech, simply equipping ourselves with an overhead projector, some acetates, and a couple of marker pens. We ditched the idea of any staging, including wings or sophisticated lighting plots, and chatted with the audience as they walked into the auditorium. This low-tech approach to staging seemed appropriate. Science is all about trying to discover how the world really works, and so it seemed appropriate to remove the various theatrical devices usually employed to help an audience suspend disbelief and instead present the show in a far more straightforward way.

We opened at The Soho Theatre in March 2002. The idea of two academics venturing onto a West-End stage armed with just a few acetates and a couple of theories attracted the attention of the media, and the show received considerable press and radio coverage. As a result, our initial run quickly sold out and the theater was happy to add some additional dates. The performances drew a strong response from both the audience and reviewers alike. One newspaper, The Evening Standard, wrote that the show “almost makes academia sexy” and described it as “a unique masterclass on the mind.” Similarly, What’s On magazine called it “an uplifting, thought-provoking and frequently hilarious alternative to the usual theatre fare.” Perhaps more important, feedback forms indicated that about half of the audience had absolutely no background in science, nor had attended any previous science-based event. The show was taking science to this new audience simply by being performed in an accessible way within a theatrical context. One online review underlined this point, noting, “Don’t fear the men in white coats, this is an entertaining hour for even the most scientifically illiterate.”

The Royal Society was kind enough to provide funding for us to take the show up to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival in August 2002, and we again attracted a sell-out audience. Flushed with success, Simon and I did nothing more with the show for a couple of years. Then, in 2005, again supported by NESTA, we decided to stage a more ambitious version of the show back at the Soho Theatre. We devised various new items. For example, each night Simon was given just three minutes to explain the entire history of the universe, and then he demonstrated the concept behind redshift by electrocuting a gherkin.

Part of the expansion process involved bringing other performers on board. A few years earlier, I had worked with Delia Du Sol, one of the U.K.’s top contortionists, on a project exploring the science of anatomy. This work had involved taking MRI scans of Delia as she performed extreme back-bends. During Theatre of Science, we showed these scans to the audience prior to them watching Delia’s performance, in order that they had a much greater understanding of how her unique anatomy allowed her to bend her body into seemingly impossible shapes. We also invited musicians Sarah Angliss and Stephen Wolf to perform the world’s only theremin duet, and explain how electromagnetism allowed the performers to play these unique instruments without touching them.

Richard Wiseman, left, explores the anatomy of contortionist Delia Du Sol, right.

While developing ideas for the show, I came across a quote from magician Harry Houdini, stating that, if a performer wants to guarantee a full house, he or she should simply advertise the fact that a stunt is being performed that may result in death. The words resonated with me, and I started to look around for a genuinely dangerous, but science-based, stunt that could be performed in the intimate setting of the Soho Theatre.

Eventually, I came across HVFX—a company that makes high-voltage electricity equipment for television and stage. I approached them and explained our situation, and technical director Nick Field kindly agreed to put together something for the show. He constructed two rather odd looking metal pillars, known as Tesla coils, capable of generating six-foot bolts of million-volt lightning. HVFX also built a coffin-shaped cage that would go between the coils and absorb the full force of the strikes, assuring us that various thus far incontrovertible laws of physics meant that it was safe to stand inside the cage. As a finale to the show, either Simon or myself entered the coffin-shaped cage and absorbed the full force of the strikes. There was no room for error, as the bolts of lightning were potentially lethal.

The staging of such a dangerous stunt attracted a large amount of media attention, and, once again, we quickly sold out for the entire run. Again we added more nights, and again they too sold out. We proved that science could hold its own against more mainstream forms of theater, and the reviews were positive, with, for example, The Times remarking that “the spirit of Houdini lives on.”

In 2006, we were invited to perform the show for a short run in an off-Broadway theater. Cosponsored by the Center for Inquiry office in New York as part of an arts and science festival being organized by CFI Director Austin Dacey, we boxed up the show and crossed the Atlantic. The Theater For The New City is located in the heart of New York’s East Village district—an area home to several other unusual off-Broadway shows including The Blue Man Group and Stomp. The theater’s cavernous auditorium provided a perfect Frankenstein-like setting for the show and allowed us to crank up the output from the coils.

The hefty construction of our cage had prevented us shipping it to America, and so we had to create a new cage onsite. Unfortunately, obtaining a generator that could produce the power required by the European coils proved surprisingly time-consuming, and so we had precious little time to construct our new “cage of death.” A quick trip to a couple of hardware stores resulted in a stack of six-foot-long metal tubes, a small saw, a roll of thin metal mesh, and a pair of industrial scissors. Simon and I set to work and managed to hastily construct a wobbly-but-workable cage, finishing just fifteen minutes before the opening performance. The curtain went up and we faced our first American audience. Fifty minutes later, with the stage bathed in red light, we moved the cage between the coils, and Simon bravely climbed inside. The coils buzzed into action, and the bolts of lethal lightning slammed into the somewhat shaky structure. Simon emerged alive, and the audience cheered.

It was only later that we discovered that the new cage was potentially far more lethal than the one we had used in Britain. The U.K. cage is constructed from thick copper tubing, making it safe for the performer to touch the inside of the cage. However, the much thinner mesh we had used in the U.S. meant that touching the inside of the cage would, if you excuse the pun, prove to be a shockingly lethal experience.

We played to packed houses, again showing that there is an audience willing to spend a scientific night out at the theater (or watch scientists risk death). We will remember the experience for a long time, not only because of the buzz of taking the first science show off-Broadway, but because night after night, we were a little too close to the one thing that, performers dread—dying on stage.

Five years ago, I fully expected Theatre of Science to be a one-time set of performances that would not do especially well. I am happy to admit that I was wrong. There is an audience for science. It is all a question of presenting it in the right way. A century ago, some of the world’s leading scientists took to the stage to educate and excite the public about their work. Our experiences suggest that they were onto something, and our hope is that other academics will now step into the limelight and continue the tradition that is theater of science.

If it has been the long-term goal of the PEAR group to be featured in the mainstream literature, then they have finally achieved their goal. The imminent closure of the PEAR laboratory has been commented upon in both The New York Times (Carey 2007) and Nature (Ball 2007). The Canadian Broadcasting Company (CBC) featured a long and sympathetic interview with the director of PEAR, Professor Robert Jahn, on February 27. There are no plans by Princeton to continue to support work in this area. The university administration has maintained a discreet silence about the PEAR group and its remarkable research.

The startling claims of the PEAR group fall into the broad category of parapsychology, specifically psychokinesis (moving objects with the mind) and remote viewing (extrasensory perception). However, the PEAR team avoids terms such as psychokinesis and telekinesis in favor of less provocative terms such as anomalous transfer of information and anomalous injection of information into the data stream. The PEAR group has recently published a summary of the first twenty-five years of their work (Jahn and Dunne 2005). A critical analysis of some of the PEAR claims has recently appeared in this journal (Jeffers 2006).

Much of the work of the PEAR group has employed “random event generators” (REGs), which are essentially electronic random number generators whose “operators” are invited, by dint of their own intentionality, to bias in such a way that the mean of the random number distribution would be either higher or lower than it would be in the absence of their intentional efforts. The claim is that some “operators” can achieve a bias consistent with their intentions at a level that, although minute, is statistically very unlikely to have arisen by chance.

In his CBC interview, Professor Jahn stood fervently by his claims and said that he would repeat this long effort “in a heartbeat.” He remains convinced that his work reveals something profound about the nature of mind and matter. However, it is somewhat telling that, despite this long record of experimentation, very few in the academy have been convinced of the validity of the claims. Most of the work has been reported in the Journal of Scientific Exploration, a periodical specializing in claims for all kinds of physical, biological, and parapsychological anomalous effects. Two papers have appeared in more mainstream journals, the IEEE (back in 1992) and Foundations of Physics. The attitude of most of the academy has either been immediate rejection without a close examination of the evidence or simple indifference. One notable exception is the support offered to the PEAR group by one Nobel Laureate in physics, Brian Josephson. One waggish editor did offer to publish a PEAR paper “if it could be transmitted telepathically.”

The work of the PEAR group does raise larger issues for the academy concerning academic freedom. Princeton, to its credit, has recognized Jahn’s freedom to pursue a controversial area despite the obvious discomfort of some of the faculty, particularly in the physics department.

As with any other claim, the veracity of PEAR’s claims will finally be settled by time-honored methods of science—and demand reproducibility. Here PEAR has a significant problem. To its credit, PEAR did engage two other groups of researchers at two different German universities in a three-way attempt at validating the claims. However, none of these groups—including PEAR itself—was able to reproduce the claimed effects.

Furthermore, as has been previously pointed out, there are some problems with the calibration data of PEAR’s REG. As far back as 1987 (Jahn and Dunne) the PEAR team claimed that the performance of their REGs when no one was invited to influence them showed a distribution that was better than Gaussian. This effect was dubbed “baseline bind.” It was attributed to the unconscious actions on the part of “operators” to please the experimenters (how one can test for unconscious intentionality is unclear). However, the baseline data reported later over a long period exhibits a trend that is unlikely by chance at the p=.05 level. This was the level of statistical significance previously employed to claim a significant effect. I have argued that the later data exhibit baseline bias and hence the REG over the long term is not generating random numbers as claimed. This has to call the basic claims into question.

Although the PEAR lab will be no more, work in this area is expected to continue under the auspices of the International Consciousness Research Laboratories, a not-for-profit public foundation. One suspects that, without the cachet that attaches to the Princeton name, this group will have an even more difficult time convincing the skeptical community.

References

• Ball, P. 2007. When research goes PEAR shaped. Available at nature.com.
• Carey, B. 2007. After 28 years, Princeton loses ESP lab to the relief of some. The New York Times, February 10.
• Jahn, R.G., and B. Dunne. 1987. Margins of Reality: The Role of Consciousness in the Physical World. Harcourt Brace Jovanovich.
• —. 2005. The PEAR proposition, Journal of Scientific Exploration, 19, (2), 195—246.
• Jeffers. 2006. The PEAR proposition—Fact or fallacy? Skeptical Inquirer, 30 (3): 54—57, May/June.

Da Vinci’s ‘Codes’

Although The Da Vinci Code is fiction, Brown claimed portions were based on fact, notably that a secret society called the Priory of Sion was “a real organization” founded in 1099 and that parchments brought to light in 1975, Les Dossiers Secrets, named among its members Leonardo da Vinci (2003, 1). Alas, the parchments “were conclusively proven in the 1990s to have been part of an elaborate hoax” (Bernstein 2004, 9).

The hoax had snookered the authors of two pseudohistories, Holy Blood, Holy Grail (Baigent et al. 1996) and The Templar Revelation (Picknett and Prince 1998), on which Brown relied. The coauthors of The Templar Revelation, “researchers” Lynn Picknett and Clive Prince, had made a previous foray into nonsense (1994) with the claim that Leonardo had created the Shroud of Turin, even though the shroud appeared a century before the birth of Leonardo (1452—1519). The duo believe the image on the cloth (actually the work of a confessed forger of the mid-1350s [Nickell 1998])—was produced for two reasons. It represented both “an innovative technique” (Leonardo, they suggest, invented photography to create the image!) and “an encoded heretical belief” (he supposedly faked blood on the image as still flowing so as to indicate that Jesus did not die on the cross) (Picknett and Prince 1998, 25, 289).

For his novel, Brown borrowed from a chapter of The Templar Revelation titled “The Secret Code of Leonardo da Vinci.” There, Picknett and Prince (1998, 19—35) claim that Leonardo’s famous fresco The Last Supper contains hidden symbolism relating to the true Holy Grail. Supposedly the old French word Sangreal is explained not as san greal, “holy grail,” but as sang real, “royal blood,” revealing that Jesus married Mary Magdalene and fathered a child, thus beginning a bloodline that led to the Merovingian dynasty (a succession of kings who ruled present-day France from 481 to 751). The hoaxed parchments, Les Dossiers Secrets, provided evidence of this allegedly historically guarded secret.

Picknett and Prince claim, for instance, that St. John, depicted in The Last Supper and seated at the right of Jesus, is actually a woman—Mary Magdalene—and that the shape made by “Mary” and Jesus is “a giant, spreadeagled ‘M,’ almost as if they were literally joined at the hip but had suffered a falling out or even grown apart” (Picknett and Prince 1998, 19—21). In this and some of the artist’s other works, the authors imagine, are hidden clues to an underground religion based on the sang real secret.

By following such ridiculous sources, Brown provokes one critic to observe that his characterizations “bear little resemblance to the serious thinking in the field” of Leonardo studies and reveal “a stunning lack of careful knowledge” about his subject (Bernstein 2004, 12).

Cryptex

In The Da Vinci Code, the hero and heroine follow a series of cryptic clues to solve the mystery. At the beginning, some numbers are discovered scribbled on the floor beside the body of the murdered Jacques Saunier. Heroine Sophie Neveu, Saunier’s granddaughter, happens to be a “cryptographer” (actually a cryptanalyst, one who solves, rather than creates, secret writings). She recognizes the numbers as a scrambled Fibonacci sequence (a mathematical progression derived by another Leonardo, Leonardo Fibonacci [ca. 1170—ca. 1240]) and it enables her and her fellow quester, “symbologist” Robert Langdon, to unlock a safe box in a Zurich bank.

Inside they discover a cryptex, a device whose invention is attributed to Leonardo da Vinci. However, not only did he not conceive the imagined gadget but, as Brown describes it, it would not work. Supposedly it contains a scroll that can only be gained by lining up its dials correctly; smashing it open will break a phial of vinegar that will “quickly dissolve the papyrus,” so that “By the time anyone extracted the secret message,” Sophie explains, “it would be a glob of meaningless pulp” (Brown 2003, 201).

In fact, vinegar has no such effect on papyrus, which—since I am quite familiar with that writing material (Nickell 1990, 71)—I already knew instinctively; however, in honor of Leonardo, I confirmed that by a simple experiment in my lab. There was no appreciable affect even after weeks.

‘Code’ Script

In Brown’s tale, the rosewood box containing the cryptex also yields an engraved riddle, itself rendered in a baffling script that is finally recognized as mirror writing. That backward form was employed by Leonardo throughout his celebrated notebooks (see figure 1). People have long puzzled over his reason for so writing, one popular hypothesis being “to keep people from peering over his shoulder and stealing his ideas,” notes Brown (2003, 301). Indeed some have even called it a code, a possibility supposedly made more credible by Leonardo’s having “often employed codes and ciphers to disguise his ideas further” (White 2000, 131). Specifically, it has been pointed out “that in very specific circumstances Leonardo would invent code writing (for example, in the so-called Ligny memorandum of about 1499, recording the artist’s journey to Rome with the count of Ligny).” As well, he “created playful rebuses and cryptic pictographs” (Bambach 2003, 33).

For a time, when he feared two German assistants were spying on him, his writings reflect anxiety and “are written not only in his usual mirror-writing but heavily encoded, with imagery more at home in alchemical texts than his notebooks” (White 2000, 250). Iris Noble (1965, 139) has suggested that his treatise De Figura Umana (On the Human Figure) was so “dangerous” in exploring anatomy even through dissections of corpses that “He wrote it in mirror language because he knew well that times would have to change before that book could be printed for all to see.”

But is that really the case? Leonardo definitely intended that book—along with many other treatises in progress—for publication. And as one writer observes, “the labor of writing backward would surely have been out of all proportion to the secrecy value, since the script could be read by anyone with a mirror” (Linscott 1957, xiii). Besides, Leonardo copied much extraneous and innocuous material into his notebooks in backward script, including portions of a Latin grammar, various quotations, even jokes (Linscott 1957, xiii).

Others have suggested that the mirror-writings could be due to dyslexia (Priwer and Phillips 2005, 210); however, the fluency of their exposition and elegance of reasoning as well as their quantity and even the stylish calligraphy of some early notes are scarcely consistent with such a diagnosis. Moreover, Leonardo was apparently also to some extent ambidextrous and could employ conventional, left-to-right script when necessary, as in writing letters. That has been disputed, but now the scholarly consensus is that occasionally he did do so (Bambach 2003, 33, 44).

Most knowledgeable authorities now attribute the backward penmanship to Leonardo’s having been left-handed. The earliest testimony of that fact comes from his close friend and collaborator, Fra Luca Pacioli (ca. 1445—ca. 1514), who stated that Leonardo “wrote in reverse, [his script] is left-handed and could not be read except with a mirror or by holding the back of the sheet against the light. As I understand, and can say, this is the practice of our Leonardo da Vinci, lantern of painting, who is left-handed” (qtd. in Bambach 2003, 32).

The right-to-left mode would have been an advantage to a left-handed writer, since otherwise the hand would trail over and smear the wet ink (unless its position or that of the paper was radically altered). Having chosen to write in reverse fashion, Leonardo would no doubt have enjoyed its fringe benefits: its difficulty of being deciphered by casual readers, and the attention he gained from the novelty of performing such a trick.

Another Possibility?

Over the years (by 1983), I had begun to wonder if Leonardo might have received another benefit from his mirror-writing. I was intrigued that there is an important art form that actually utilizes mirror-writing and drawing; indeed, it is one that Leonardo would have been very familiar with. In fact, while there is no clear evidence that he practiced that art himself, he is known to have made the preliminary drawings—for another such practicing artist to copy—to illustrate his friend Pacioli’s treatise De Divina Proportione (On Divine Proportion) (White 2000, 153).

The art I am referring to is that of printmaking—either by engraving or woodcut. To make prints, the respective copper plate or wood block is carved (incised for the former, cut in relief for the latter) in reverse (Nickell 1992). Thus, the plate is a mirror image of the print it makes.

Since Leonardo intended his works to be published, might not he have taken advantage of his left-handed ability to write in reverse in order to assist future mirror-writing artisans in copying his text? Although many books of his time were set in moveable type (following its introduction ca. 1450 and its first use in Italy in 1465 [Nickell 1990, 127]), woodcuts and engravings were still also common. Engraved copper plates could have seemed an ideal method of reproducing Leonardo’s pages with their interwoven illustrations and text.

One immediately thinks of arguments for and against this hypothesis, but serious investigators learn to avoid drawing firm conclusions too quickly. (I frequently encounter people who are such bright, quick thinkers that they finish my sentences for me—often incorrectly. Over time, I have been trying to teach myself to think more slowly, that is, more carefully.) I approached the puzzle of Leonardo’s “code” writing as if (and I have had some experience in this regard [3]) I were solving a cryptogram.

In the notebooks, not only is Leonardo’s text reversed but apparently drawings are as well, some diagrams being so indicated by the fact that their sequential letters—a, b, c, etc.—run from right to left (see, e.g., illus. in Bambach 2003, 598). Moreover, Carmen C. Bambach (2003, 51), curator of Drawings and Prints at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, observes that the evidence indicates Leonardo was a “‘natural’ left-hander” and that

He had an uncanny mental ability to reverse, as if in a mirror, both writing and images fluently; not all left-handed artists have this ability. Preliminary drawings show that he seems often to have tried out mirror images of a similar compositional idea, perhaps to stir up his creative juices in designing the figural arrangements of his pictures. This unusual, very prominent feature of his creative process has been little discussed by scholars.

Although Leonardo put little of his material in final order, he did keep most of his observations to a single page, noting carefully if they were continued (Richter 1883, xv). Of course, not all of his scattered pages were intended for publication; some were simply sketches and drawings per se, while others bore mundane notations and reminders. Yet some were like a set of studies of the human skull, begun in 1489, that “reveal a neat, treatiselike disposition of image and text on the page (as well as the technique of exquisitely fine parallel hatching that is typical of engravings from this period)” (Bambach 2003, 15). Were Leonardo’s pages of this type actual models for a future engraver? Might he have at least been aware of his mirror-writing’s utility in this regard?

. . . Or Not?

Clearly there is a similarity between, on the one hand, certain of Leonardo’s pages that were apparently intended for publication, and, on the other, the engraved copper plate that could have reproduced them as conventional (non-reversed) pages to be read by others. Even if it was just a coincidence, Leonardo must have noticed and appreciated the fact of the similarity.

As I studied the matter, I realized the need to find among Leonardo’s figures—that is, among those that were seemingly intended for publication—one or more that were unmistakably mirror-imaged.

What I found, however, placed me in the unfortunate position of having to debunk, or at least urge skepticism of, my own hypothesis. It came in the form of a drawing of 1490 that “may have been intended to illustrate a treatise on anatomy” (Bambach 2003, 409). Labeled the “tree of veins” and illustrating internal organs in a pioneering cutaway view of a male figure, it places the heart on the figure’s left, that is, in non-reversed fashion. The same is true of a 1508 anatomical drawing of a female, and still others (White 2000, 284; Leonardo 1956, 369, 371, 377).

This seems clear evidence against my otherwise very intriguing hypothesis. Of course, there may be something in the idea after all. At least, it might inspire others to take a fresh look at Leonardo’s great gifts to us. Perhaps, avoiding the silliness of the pseudohistorians who have abused and slandered him, they will decode some further secrets of his genius.

Acknowledgments

I appreciate the assistance of artist/art scholar Glenn Taylor, who made helpful criticisms of my Leonardo mirror-writing-for-engraving hypothesis, and CFI Libraries Director Timothy Binga, for research assistance.

Notes

1. At least, Leonardo did architectural drawings (and was an occasional architectural consultant), and he studied animals, sketching their form and movements, visiting slaughterhouses to observe still-beating hearts, studying the flights of birds, etc. (Phillips and Priwer 2006, 103—116, 190—191, 126—127).
2. Although the term code is often used very loosely, cryptanalysts distinguish between a code (where arbitrary symbols, words, etc., stand for certain whole concepts, such as words, phrases, or the like) and a cipher (in which letters of the “plaintext” are transformed—by substitution or transposition—to conceal its meaning).
3. See the illustrated short treatise on “Secret Writing” in my book, Pen, Ink, & Evidence (Nickell 1990, 176—178); see also my decipherment of the Oak Island mystery’s cipher-stone text and symbol-ridden allegory (Nickell 2001, 219—234).

References

• Baigent, Michael, Richard Leigh, and Henry Lincoln. 1996. Holy Blood, Holy Grail. London: Arrow.
• Bambach, Carmen C., ed. 2003. Leonardo Da Vinci: Master Draftsman. New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press.
• Bernstein, Amy D. 2004. Decoding the Da Vinci phenomenon. In Secrets of the Da Vinci Code, collector’s edition, U.S. News and World Report, 7—15.
• Brown, Dan. 2003. The Da Vinci Code. New York: Doubleday.
• Leonardo da Vinci. 1956. New York: Reynal & Company.
• Nickell, Joe. 1990. Pen, Ink & Evidence: A Study of Writing and Writing Materials for the Penman, Collector, and Document Detective. Reprinted, New Castle, Delaware: Oak Knoll Press, 2000.
• —. 1992. The techniques of printed illustration. In Martin F. Schmidt, Kentucky Illustrated, Lexington, Kentucky: University Press of Kentucky, 1992, 3—4.
• —. 1998. Inquest on the Shroud of Turin. Amherst, New York: Prometheus Books.
• —. 2001. Real-Life X-Files: Investigating the Paranormal. Lexington, Kentucky: University Press of Kentucky.
• Phillips, Cynthia, and Shana Priwer. 2006. The Everything Da Vinci Book. Avon, Massachusetts: Adams Media.
• Picknett, Lynn, and Clive Prince. 1994. Turin Shroud: In Whose Image? The Truth behind the Centuries-Long Conspiracy of Silence. New York: HarperCollins.
• —. 1998. The Templar Revelation: Secret Guardians of the True Identity of Christ. New York: Touchstone.
• Priwer, Shana, and Cynthia Phillips. 2005. 101 Things You Didn’t Know About Da Vinci. Avon, Massachusetts: Adams Media.
• Richter, Jean Paul. 1883. The Notebooks of Leonardo Da Vinci: Compiled and Edited from the Original Manuscripts, in two vols.; reprinted New York: Dover Publications, 1970.
• White, Michael. 2000. Leonardo: The First Scientist. New York: St. Martin’s Press.

Many readers of the Skeptical Inquirer (the authors included) have labeled or referred to ourselves as “skeptics,” which implies objectivity in our approach to evaluating various claims. However, we all have limitations and built-in biases that hinder our ability to apply the methods of skepticism objectively and consistently. Nonskeptics and professed skeptics alike are equally vulnerable to developing beliefs that have not been subjected to rigorous skeptical inquiry. Furthermore, skeptics (like nonskeptics) may refuse to change their viewpoints even in the face of substantial discrediting evidence.

Thus, skeptics would be well served to realize that we are selectively skeptical. Our purpose here is to (a) make clear why no consistent skeptic exists, (b) review the major biases that obstruct our ability to apply skepticism consistently, (c) provide a concrete example of selective skepticism in a great mind (Albert Einstein), and (d) challenge skeptics to reevaluate their own ability to apply the methods of skepticism consistently.

Does a ‘Consistent Skeptic’ Exist?

We are defining a “consistent skeptic” as an individual whose entire belief system is composed of beliefs that have been subjected to objective skeptical inquiry. Even those of us who claim to be skeptics are vulnerable to nonskeptically formed beliefs. This is because (a) we do not have time to evaluate every claim that becomes part of our belief system and may rely upon what is commonly believed or what we would like to be true; (b) we are more likely to perform a skeptical evaluation for claims that are inconsistent with our current belief systems (e.g., psychic powers), while simply accepting claims consistent with our beliefs (e.g., Einstein was a skeptic); (c) many beliefs are already formed and reinforced prior to learning how to think skeptically; (d) some beliefs are formed based primarily upon an emotional evaluation; and (e) skeptics have limited areas of expertise (e.g., a biologist may know little about economics), which restricts our ability to skeptically evaluate all potential claims because knowledge is extremely specialized.

Next, a “consistent skeptic” continually subjects his or her beliefs to possible modification based upon an objective evaluation of further evidence. While beliefs can be modified, research shows that we all possess biases that not only typically strengthen existing beliefs (both true and false), but often maintain beliefs in light of strong contradictory evidence. We will briefly discuss three relevant biases inhibiting consistent skepticism: the confirmation bias, biased assimilation, and belief perseverance (see Gilovich 1991 for further examples of how our cognitive systems can mislead us).

First, we all look for evidence that is consistent with our beliefs. In short, we tend to believe what we wish to be true, but we do so “objectively.” Specifically, we typically do not seek out discrediting evidence for our current beliefs with the same vigor that we look for supportive evidence (Gilovich 1991). Psychologists call this a confirmation bias (see Nickerson 1998 for a review). Confirmation bias has been demonstrated in a wide variety of contexts (e.g., stereotypes, political beliefs, financial decisions, beliefs in psychic abilities), and serves to strengthen current beliefs. Furthermore, the confirmation bias generates additional collateral “evidence,” allowing beliefs to persist even when the initial evidence is discredited, because we can draw on evidence obtained from a variety of sources. As a quick test of the confirmation bias, readers can look through their personal collections of books. Do you have an equal number of books that are both consistent and inconsistent with your beliefs? Do you subscribe to or read periodicals, newspapers, etc. that present perspectives contrary to your political beliefs? (The authors confess that their book collections and periodical and newspaper subscriptions are highly skewed in favor of their political beliefs.) Likewise, how do you feel about opposing political perspectives, especially concerning issues you are keenly interested in (e.g., the current Iraq war, school vouchers, privatization of Social Security accounts)? Do your feelings influence your assessment of the correctness of different perspectives? Likewise, are you surrounded primarily by others that share your views, which in turn strengthens your beliefs (i.e., group polarization)? A consistent skeptic would not be biased toward confirmatory evidence.

Second, we are biased in assimilating information into our belief systems. Not only do we seek out information that supports our beliefs, but we also apply differing standards of evidence. As research has demonstrated, “People who hold strong opinions on complex social issues are likely to examine relevant empirical evidence in a biased manner. They are apt to accept ‘confirming’ evidence at face value while subjecting ‘disconfirming’ evidence to critical evaluation, and as a result to draw undue support for their initial positions from mixed or random empirical findings” (Lord, Ross, and Lepper 1979, p. 2098). A consistent skeptic would apply the methods of skepticism to all claims consistently and evaluate the evidence in an unbiased manner (i.e., without double standards).

Finally, many studies have demonstrated that it can be difficult to change a belief even when substantial discrediting information is provided (i.e., belief perseverance; see Anderson and Kellam 1992). This is especially true when we have constructed a rationale supporting the belief, or for strongly held emotional beliefs (Edwards 1990). Belief perseverance explains why a “true believer” (e.g., Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, who believed that mediums could communicate with spirits) continues to maintain beliefs despite powerful discrediting evidence (e.g., Harry Houdini’s exposure of mediums as frauds or confessions by the mediums). Furthermore, research by Tetlock (1998, 1999) has shown that experts also go to great lengths to maintain belief systems, even in the face of strong evidence that should force them to reconsider viewpoints. A consistent skeptic should obviously use discrediting information to modify beliefs.

Not only do we lack the time and universal expertise to be consistent skeptics, but our minds have a variety of built-in biases that directly hinder nonselective skepticism. These biases are especially powerful in defending long-held beliefs in which we have a strong emotional investment. Even the most ardent skeptic does not like to have his or her most cherished beliefs subjected to rigorous skeptical inquiry.

Albert Einstein: A Selective Skeptic

Albert Einstein’s scientific contributions, like those of Charles Darwin or Isaac Newton, have shaped the way we view the universe. Einstein had a great mathematical mind, and has become a scientific icon. Einstein, most likely because of his scientific achievements, was voted one of the ten outstanding skeptics of the twentieth century by the Fellows and Scientific Consultants of CSICOP (see Skeptical Inquirer, January/ February 2000). However, Einstein was no skeptic when evaluating evidence outside of his field of expertise. As skeptics are well aware, scientists sometimes look foolish when venturing outside of their disciplines.

Einstein held a wide range of beliefs beyond his contributions to science and outside his area of expertise. For example, in 1933, Einstein (we believe correctly) voiced his opinion about political liberty in Germany, “As long as I have any choice, I will only stay in a country where political liberty, toleration, and equality of all citizens before the law are the rule. Political liberty implies liberty to express one’s political views orally and in writing, toleration, respect for any and every individual. These conditions do not obtain in Germany at the present time” (Einstein 1949, p. 81). Einstein openly criticized Nazism and the brutalities that occurred under that government.

Einstein was also sympathetic to the Soviet style of government, likely because that particular form of government was consistent with many of his political views (e.g., a belief in a centrally planned economy), combined with the looming threat of Nazism in Europe (Laqueur 1990). Einstein was not alone in his political beliefs. Capitalistic societies were in the midst of the Great Depression, and as Caute (1988) points out, many scientists in the 1930s endorsed the Soviet system because of the “notion that the most rapid scientific advances are made by a system which methodically relates research to the solution of social problems” (p. 272). To these scientists, the Soviet Union could become a vast experiment in which scientists would play a vital role in engineering a human society.

Thus, Einstein had strong beliefs in both political liberty and the Soviet style of government during the 1930s. Interestingly, Einstein refused to join or endorse an international commission headed by John Dewey to investigate the Moscow Show Trials (a consistent skeptic would seek both confirmatory and discrediting evidence) and would subsequently write to Max Born that “there are increasing signs the Russian trials are not faked, but that there is a plot among those who look upon Stalin as a stupid reactionary who has betrayed the ideas of the revolution” (quoted in Born 1971, p. 130). Born would later comment that most people in the West at the time believed the trials “to be the arbitrary acts of a cruel dictator.” Einstein, however, relied upon information from people he described as “those who know Russia best.”

The important point, however, is that Einstein’s positive beliefs toward the Soviet Union did not change as substantial information came forth demonstrating that the Soviet Union was a totalitarian state that did not tolerate political liberty. Einstein was never shy about judging capitalism or Nazism by their deeds and actions instead of their rhetoric. He did not apply this standard to the Soviet Union. A consistent skeptic would not use double standards to evaluate different forms of governments.

If Einstein was a consistent skeptic, one would predict that, as the accumulating evidence came forth over the years, Einstein would modify his beliefs and become a leading critic of both Stalin and the Soviet Union for their violations of political liberty. Millions of Soviet citizens were arbitrarily murdered as a direct result of government action, and millions more were put into slave labor camps. While Einstein’s writings, letters, and correspondence on this issue are scattered, his correspondence with the philosopher Sidney Hook on this specific issue is most enlightening (and disturbing). We encourage you to read chapter 28 (“My Running Debate with Albert Einstein”) in Hook’s (1987) autobiography, Out of Step: An Unquiet Life in the Twentieth Century. The chapter relies heavily upon letters exchanged between the two men, and reading the chapter in its entirety provides a much richer context than the brief summary we provide here.

Einstein, a professed believer in political liberty, virtually refuses to criticize the Soviet government and justifies the murders and creation of slave labor camps. The closest Einstein comes to criticism of the Soviet government is contained in the first sentence of the following quote. However, the next sentence speaks for itself. According to Einstein in 1948, “I am not blind to the serious weaknesses of the Russian system of government and I would not like to live under such government. But it has, on the other side, great merits and it is difficult to decide whether it would have been possible for the Russians to survive by following softer methods” (Einstein quoted in Hook 1987, p. 471).

Hook responded with a lengthy letter, pointing out many inconsistencies in Einstein’s reasoning when it came to the Soviet Union:

Precisely what methods have you in mind? I am puzzled on what evidence anyone can assert that cultural purges and terror in astronomy, biology, art, music, literature, the social sciences, helped the Russians to survive, or how the millions of victims in concentration camps of the Soviet Union, not to speak of the wholesale executions, contributed in any way to the Russian victory over Hitler. The Russians defeated Napoleon who was relative to his time even mightier than Hitler. But I don’t believe you would find it difficult to decide that this in no way constituted a historic justification of serfdom. (p. 473)

Einstein did not respond to Hook’s letter. We would have expected some reply, at least claiming that Einstein was misunderstood. However, other writings by Einstein indicate that he believed, for the Russian people, “a painful temporary renunciation of his personal independence” was necessary and that Einstein himself would have “deemed it my duty to make this temporary sacrifice” (Einstein quoted in Hook, 1987, p. 476). Thus, for the Soviet people, Einstein abandons his own views about political liberty (a clear double standard). Max Born (1971) also found Einstein’s views toward the Soviet Union “hard to reconcile” (p. 131). Hook (1987) summarizes that he “was mystified by Einstein’s failure to come to grips with the revelations of the victims of Stalin’s terror” (p. 478). Unfortunately, Einstein was not alone, as many intellectuals, perhaps attracted to the lofty goals of communism, refused to acknowledge the devastating actions of the Soviet government (Sowell 1996).

Einstein does not demonstrate the hallmarks of a consistent skeptic when it comes to his evaluation of the Soviet Union. It is doubtful that anyone committed to rigorous skepticism would agree with Einstein’s view that a government has the right to murder millions of its own citizens and create slave labor camps as a preemptive strategy if it believes it will be attacked at some future date. Interestingly, Einstein judged the German people to be “the land of mass-murderers” (Einstein quoted in Born 1971, p. 199) and the individual citizen personally responsible for the crimes of the Nazi regime. However, by this standard, Einstein himself would have felt it justified if he was murdered for “correct” political reasons, or himself part of a land of mass-murderers if he lived in the Soviet Union under Stalin. The great irony is that Stalin’s government, like Hitler’s, murdered millions of its own citizens and did not tolerate political liberty. Only a “true believer” could not make that assessment.

We encourage readers to compare Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s justifications to maintaining his beliefs in spiritualism (see chapter 9 of Houdini: A Magician Among the Spirits) with Einstein’s justifications of Soviet government actions. Both men, when dealing with subjects outside of their expertise, abandoned basic logic, created double standards to evaluate evidence, and did not modify their beliefs in response to overwhelming new evidence.

Einstein’s placement in the list of ten outstanding skeptics of the twentieth century itself is an example of selective skepticism. Note that this evaluation was not made by a single individual, but was a cumulative effort by the top skeptics of today. We would be interested to know whether those who voted for Einstein (or for readers who subsequently accepted this belief) simply relied upon what is commonly believed about Einstein or whether a true skeptical inquiry was performed. Of course, we are most interested in whether the information presented in this article would cause those who believe that Einstein was an outstanding skeptic to reconsider that belief.

Summary and Implications

No one is once and for all a skeptic. Skepticism is an ongoing, self-correcting process, not an end to be achieved. It is continually possible to not only backslide but to apply our skepticism inconsistently. We are all selective skeptics. Ironically, calling ourselves skeptics may make us less skeptical in objectively evaluating claims because it may create a false sense of our willingness to subject all of our beliefs to the principles of inquiry. Self-knowledge concerning our limitations is useful in two ways: it encourages intellectual humility and honesty and it keeps the daunting task of not falling prey to our particular certainties forthrightly in view.

The case of Einstein is cautionary in another respect. Too often, we find skeptics paying rapt attention to the views of scientific celebrities regarding assorted topics to which those celebrities’ occupational expertise and accomplishments are totally irrelevant. From a logical point of view, what a renowned physicist, astronomer, or evolutionary biologist has to say about psychology, politics, economics, religion, etc., has no special status whatsoever (just like the Hollywood celebrity who speaks out on these issues). Scientists’ claims regarding these issues must stand on their logical and substantive merits alone. Too often, the irrelevancy of scientific celebrity is lost on those who (like all of us) love to be told what they want to hear, especially by people famous for their intellectual accomplishments. Yet, the love of misplaced authority is but another step in the direction of obliviousness to our own selective skepticism.

Simply calling ourselves skeptics is no guarantee that we will objectively apply the methods of skepticism. Self-awareness that we have limitations in expertise combined with built-in biases that hinder our consistent application of skepticism may help to minimize our own selective skepticism. However, if we ignore our own selective skepticism and inconsistently apply the method of skepticism, we run the risk, like Einstein, of deluding ourselves in certain areas like the “true believer” that every skeptic despises.

Acknowledgement

The authors wish to thank Gerald Erion, for his helpful comments and suggestions.

References

• Anderson, C.A., and K.L. Kellam. 1992. Belief perseverance, biased assimilation, and covariation detection: The effects of hypothetical social theories and new data. Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin 18: 555—565.
• Born, M. 1971. The Born-Einstein Letters. Irene Born, trans. New York: MacMillan Press.
• Caute, D. 1988. The Fellow-travellers: Intellectual Friends of Communism (revised edition). New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press.
• Edwards, K. 1990. The interplay of affect and cognition in attitude formation and change. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 59: 202—216.
• Einstein, A. 1949. The World as I See It. Alan Harris, trans. New York: The Wisdom Library.
• Gilovich, T. 1991. How We Know What Isn’t So: Fallibility of Human Reason in Everyday Life. New York: The Free Press.
• Hook, S. 1987. Out of Step: An Unquiet Life in the Twentieth Century. New York: Harper & Row.
• Houdini, H. 1972 [1924]. Houdini: A Magician among the Spirits. New York: Arno Press.
• Laqueur, W. 1990. Stalin: The Glasnost Revelations. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons.
• Lord, C., L. Ross, and M. Lepper. 1979. Biased assimilation and attitude polarization: The effect of prior theory on subsequently considered evidence. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 37: 2098—2109.
• Nickerson, R.S. 1998. Confirmation bias: A ubiquitous phenomenon in many guises. Review of General Psychology 2: 175—220.
• Sowell, T. 1996. Knowledge and Decisions. New York: Basic Books.
• Tetlock, P.E. 1998. Close-call counterfactuals and belief-system defenses: I was not almost wrong but I was almost right. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 75: 639—652.
• —. 1999. Theory-driven reasoning about plausible pasts and probable futures in world politics: Are we prisoners of our preconceptions? American Journal of Political Science 43: 335—366.