Assorted Links

Thanks to Bryan Castañeda.

Sleep and Mood Strongly Linked

I recently came across a 2005 survey, done in Texas, that found people with poor sleep were far more likely to be depressed or anxious than people with better sleep. Huge risk ratios:

People with insomnia . . . were 9.82 and 17.35 times as likely to have clinically significant depression and anxiety [than persons without insomnia.]

Other studies have found similar results. For example, a 1979 survey interviewed the same people twice, one year apart. People who had insomnia both times were 40 times more likely to be newly diagnosed with major depression during the intervening year than those who did not have insomnia at either time.

A simple thing to say about the sleep/mood correlation is that it supports my theory of depression, which says depression is often due to malfunction of two circadian oscillators (one controlled by light, the other by faces). If they are working properly (in sync, with large amplitude) you sleep well and are in a good mood when you are awake. If they are not working properly (e.g., not in sync) then you do not sleep well and are in a bad mood at least part of the time while you are awake. What is called depression (e.g., not wanting to do anything) is actually a good thing in the middle of the night. Not wanting to do anything — being still — is necessary to fall asleep.

A sad and more complicated thing about this correlation is that it is ignored. It is not explained by any theory of depression popular among psychotherapists, such as cognitive-behavioral therapy, not to mention a dozen other explanations of depression (psychoanalytic, etc.) that psychotherapists favor. Nor is it explained by any pharmacological theory of depression. In other words, if you seek treatment for depression within our healthcare system the treatment you will receive will derive from a theory that cannot explain this result. Yet the correlation is so strong it must be telling us something important.

You can read endlessly about the high cost of health care. What if the high cost is not the core problem? What if it is only a symptom of something less obvious? What if health care costs a lot because we have a poor understanding of health and disease (as the failure of popular theories of depression to explain the sleep/mood correlation suggests)? What if we have a poor understanding of health and disease because health research is too concerned with allowing healthcare providers to make money?

Assorted Links

  • Bruce Handy (who wrote for Spy) on Newsweek. “The second biggest problem is the way each issue begins with a miles-long slog of columns by A-list writers eager to champion the incontrovertible and rehash the already thoroughly hashed. . . . Niall Ferguson has discovered that, thanks to technology, “the human race is interconnected as never before.””
  • The Willat Effect in Venice, CA: side-by-side coffee comparisons at Intelligensia .
  • Why is the headline 28 Unexpected TV Ratings Facts more attractive than Unexpected TV Ratings Facts?
  • Engaging interview with Julia Schopick, creator of Honest Medicine. “After they [his surgeons] were done with him . . . “

“Allergic to the Practical”: Law Schools Imitating Academia

Thorstein Veblen might have gloated that this 2011 article — about the uselessness of law schools and legal scholarship — so thoroughly supports what he wrote in a book published in 1899 (see the last chapter of The Theory of the Leisure Class). Why are law schools useless? Because law professors feel compelled to imitate the rest of academia, which glorifies uselessness:

“Law school has a kind of intellectual inferiority complex, and it’s built into the idea of law school itself,” says W. Bradley Wendel of the Cornell University Law School, a professor who has written about landing a law school teaching job. “People who teach at law school are part of a profession and part of a university. So we’re always worried that other parts of the academy are going to look down on us and say: ‘You’re just a trade school, like those schools that advertise on late-night TV. You don’t write dissertations. You don’t write articles that nobody reads.’ And the response of law school professors is to say: ‘That’s not true. We do all of that. We’re scholars [i.e., useless], just like you.’ ”

Yeah. As I’ve said, there’s a reason for the term ivory tower. And seemingly useless research has value. Glorifying useless research has the useful result of diversifying research, causing a wider range of research directions to be explored. Many of my highly-useful self-experimental findings started or received a big boost from apparently useless research.

The pendulum can swing too far, however, and it has. A large fraction of health researchers, especially medical school researchers, have spent their entire careers refusing to admit, at least in public, the uselessness of what they do. Biology professors have some justification for useless research; medical school professors have none, especially given all the public money they get. Like law professors, they prefer prestige and conformity. The rest of us pay an enormous price for their self-satisfaction (“I’m scientific!” they tell themselves) and peace of mind. The price we pay is stagnation in the understanding of health. Like clockwork, every year the Nobel Prize in Medicine is given to research that has done nothing or very close to nothing to improve our health. And every year, like clockwork, science journalists (all of them!) fail to notice this. If someone can write the article I just quoted about law schools, why can’t even one science journalist write the same thing about medical schools — where it matters far more? What’s their excuse?

Evidence-Based Medicine Versus Innovation

In this interview, a doctor who does research on biofilms named Randall Wolcott makes the same point I made about Testing Treatments — that evidence-based medicine, as now practiced, suppresses innovation:

I take it you [meaning the interviewer] are familiar with evidence-based medicine? It’s the increasingly accepted approach for making clinical decisions about how to treat a patient. Basically, doctors are trained to make a decision based on the most current evidence derived from research. But what such thinking boils down to [in practice — theory is different] is that I am supposed to do the same thing that has always been done – to treat my patient in the conventional manner – just because it’s become the most popular approach. However, when it comes to chronic wound biofilms, we are in the midst of a crisis – what has been done and is accepted as the standard treatment doesn’t work and doesn’t meet the needs of the patient.

Thus, evidence-based medicine totally regulates against innovation. Essentially doctors suffer if they step away from mainstream thinking. Sure, there are charlatans out there who are trying to sell us treatments that don’t work, but there are many good therapies that are not used because they are unconventional. It is only by considering new treatment options that we can progress.

Right on. He goes on to say that he is unwilling to do a double-blind clinical trial in which some patients do not receive his new therapy because “we know we’ve got the methods to save most of their limbs” from amputation.

Almost all scientific and intellectual history (and much serious journalism) is about how things begin. How ideas began and spread, how inventions are invented. If you write about Steve Jobs, for example, that’s your real subject. How things fail to begin — how good ideas are killed off — is at least as important, but much harder to write about. This is why Tyler Cowen’s The Great Stagnation is such an important book. It says nothing about the killing-off processes, but at least it describes the stagnation they have caused. Stagnation should scare us. As Jane Jacobs often said, if it lasts long enough, it causes collapse.

Thanks to Heidi.

Testing Treatments: The Authors Respond

In a previous post I criticized the book Testing Treatments. Two of the authors, Paul Glasziou and Iain Chalmers, have responded. I have replied to their response. They did not respond to the main point of my post, which is that the preferences and values of their book — called evidence-based medicine — hinder innovation.

Sure, care about evidence. Of course. But don’t be an evidence snob.

Testing Treatments: Nine Questions For the Authors

From this comment (thanks, Elizabeth Molin) I learned of a British book called Testing Treatments (pdf), whose second edition has just come out. Its goal is to make readers more sophisticated consumers of medical research. To help them distinguish “good” science from “bad” science. Ben Goldacre, the Bad Science columnist, fulsomely praises it (“I genuinely, truly, cannot recommend this awesome book highly enough for its clarity, depth, and humanity”). He wrote a foreword. The main text is by Imogen Evans (medical journalist), Hazel Thornton (writer), Iain Chalmers (medical researcher), and Paul Glaziou (medical researcher, editor of Journal of Evidence-Based Medicine).

To me, as I’ve said, medical research is almost entirely bad. Almost all medical researchers accept two remarkable rules: (a) first, let them get sick and (b) no cheap remedies. These rules severely limit what is studied. In terms of useful progress, the price of these limits has been enormous: near total enfeeblement. For many years the Nobel Prize in Medicine has documented the continuing failure of medical researchers all over the world to make significant progress on all major health problems, including depression, heart disease, obesity, cancer, diabetes, stroke, and so on. It is consistent with their level of understanding that some people associated with medicine would write a book about how to do something (good science) the whole field manifestly can’t do. Testing Treatments isn’t just a fat person writing a book about how to lose weight, it’s the author failing to notice he’s fat.

In case the lesson of the Nobel Prizes isn’t clear, here are some questions for the authors:

1. Why no chapter on prevention research? To fail to discuss prevention, which should be at least half of health care, at length is like writing a book using only half the letters of the alphabet. The authors appear unaware they have done so.

2. Why are practically all common medical treatments expensive?

3. Why should some data be ignored (“clear rules are followed, describing where to look for evidence, what evidence can be included”)? The “systematic reviews” that Goldacre praises here (p. 12) may ignore 95% of available data.

4. The book says: “Patients with life-threatening conditions can be desperate to try anything, including untested ‘treatments’. But it is far better for them to consider enrolling in a suitable clinical trial in which a new treatment is being compared with the current best treatment.” Really? Perhaps an ancient treatment (to authors, untested) would be better. Why are there never clinical trials that compare current treatments (e.g., drugs) to ancient treatments? The ancient treatments, unlike the current ones, have passed the test of time. (The authors appear unaware of this test.) Why is the comparison always one relatively new treatment versus another even newer treatment?

5. Why does all the research you discuss center on reducing symptoms rather than discovering underlying causes? Isn’t the latter vastly more helpful than the former?

6. In a discussion of how to treat arthritis (pp. 170-172), why no mention of omega-3? Many people (with good reason, including this) consider omega-3 anti-inflammatory. Isn’t inflammation a major source of disease?

7. Why is there nothing about how to make your immune system work better? Why is this topic absent from the examples? The immune system is mentioned only once (“Bacterial infections, such as pneumonia, which are associated with the children’s weakened immune system, are a common cause of death [in children with AIDS]“).

8. Care to defend what you say about “ghostwriting” (where med school professors are the stated authors of papers they didn’t write)? You say ghostwriting is when “a professional writer writes text that is officially credited to someone else” (p. 124). Officially credited? Please explain. You also say “ghostwritten material appears in academic publications too – and with potentially worrying consequences” (p. 124). Potentially worrying consequences? You’re not sure?

9. Have you ever discovered a useful treatment? No such discoveries are described in “About the Authors” nor does the main text contain examples. If not, why do you think you know how? If you’re just repeating what others have said, why do you think your teachers are capable of useful discovery? The authors dedicate the book to someone “who encouraged us repeatedly to challenge authority.” Did you ever ask your teachers for evidence that evidence-based medicine is an improvement?

The sad irony of Testing Treatments is that it glorifies evidence-based medicine. According to that line of thinking, doctors should ask for evidence of effectiveness. They should not simply prescribe the conventional treatment. In a meta sense, the authors of Testing Treatments have made exactly the mistake that evidence-based medicine was supposed to fix: Failure to look at evidence. They have failed to see abundant evidence (e.g., the Nobel Prizes) that, better or not, evidence-based medicine is little use.

Above all, the authors of Testing Treatments and the architects of evidence-based medicine have failed to ask: How do new ideas begin? How can we encourage them? Healthy science is more than hypothesis testing; it includes hypothesis generation — and therefore includes methods for doing so. What are those methods? By denigrating and ignoring and telling others to ignore what they call “low-quality evidence” (e.g., case studies), the architects of evidence-based medicine have stifled the growth of new ideas. Ordinary doctors cannot do double-blind clinical trials. Yet they can gather data. They can write case reports. They can do n=1 experiments. They can do n=8 experiments (“case series”). There are millions of ordinary doctors, some very smart and creative (e.g., Jack Kruse). They are potentially a great source of new ideas about how to improve health. By denigrating what ordinary doctors can do (the evidence they can collect) — not to mention what the rest of us can do — and by failing to understand innovation, the architects of evidence-based medicine have made a bad situation (the two rules I mentioned earlier) even worse. They have further reduced the ability of the whole field to innovate, to find practical solutions to common problems.

Evidence-based medicine is religion-like in its emphasis on hierarchy (grades of evidence) and rule-following. In the design of religions, these features made sense (to the designers). You want unquestioning obedience (followers must not question leaders) and you want the focus to be on procedure (rules and rituals) rather than concrete results. Like many religions, evidence-based medicine draws lines (on this side “good”, on that side “bad”) where no lines actually exist. Such line-drawing helps religious leaders because it allows their followers to feel superior to someone (to people outside their religion). When it comes to science, however, these features make things worse. Good ideas can come from anybody, high or low in the hierarchy, on either side of any line. And every scientist comes to realize, if they didn’t already know, that you can’t do good science simply by following rules. It is harder than that. You have to pay close attention to what happens and be flexible. Evidence-based medicine is the opposite of flexible. “ There is considerable intellectual tyranny in the name of science,” said Richard Feynman.

Testing Treatments has plenty of stories. Here I agree with the authors — good stories. It’s the rest of the book that shows their misunderstanding. I would replace the book’s many pages of advice and sermonizing with a few simple words: Ask your doctor for the evidence behind their treatment recommendation. He or she may not want to tell you. Insist. Don’t settle for vague banalities (“It’s good to catch these things early”). Don’t worry about being “difficult”. You won’t find this advice anywhere in Testing Treatments. If I wanted to help patients, I would find out what happens when it is followed.

More Two of the authors respond in the comments. And I comment on their response.

Grandmother Knows Best About Crohn’s Disease

On Boing Boing a post by me tell about a man who cured himself of Crohn’s Disease mainly by following what is called The Specific Carbohydrate Diet. He got the idea from his grandmother, who heard about it on the radio. The diet is about eighty years old. The version he used appeared in a book published in 1994 — 17 years ago. Still no clinical trial.

As I’ve said, if you have managed to cure yourself of a serious medical condition please let me know. I would like to learn from your experience and help others learn from it.

Why is Health Care So Expensive?

Because health care costs have been increasing faster than other costs for a long time. Everyone knows that. But why is that happening? Not so clear. This excellent article (via Marginal Revolution) says that health care is not subject to the same pressures as industries where costs have come down. Off-shore manufacturing is one such pressure. For example, a cell phone used in California can easily be made in China. In contrast, the health care a person in California is likely to want (e.g., X-rays, check-ups) must be supplied locally.

Let me suggest other reasons:

1. A large fraction of medical school professors are co-opted by industry. They get lots of money from health care companies. The companies have no interest in cutting costs. They fund research by medical school professors for exactly one reason: to sell more product.

2. The average medical school professor has little idea how to do research. Recently I mentioned a study in which they threw away half of their data. An article about the Potti scandal revealed that Potti’s main co-author, Dr. Nevins, essentially confessed he didn’t understand the research in the papers he had co-authored with Potti. As far as I can tell, medical school professors usually know so little statistics they cannot analyze the data from the studies they do. If you don’t understand how to do research, innovation will be difficult.

But I think the bigger and less obvious reasons are these:

3. The health-care supply chain is long. Some medical school professors can innovate — Peter Provonost, for example. But they face a special problem: the enormous health-care supply chain. It includes doctors, nurses, hospital workers, drug company employees, health insurance employees, medical equipment manufacturers, alternative medicine practitioners, psychotherapists, X-ray techs, health food store employees, and on and on. No other industry is like this. No one in the supply chain can innovate, yet all of them can block innovation. Everyone in the health-care supply chain must be paid. They care enormously about being paid. They hate to take a pay cut. Any innovation — unless it increases the cost of health care — threatens their paycheck. So there is a huge bias in favor of change that increases cost and a huge bias against change that decreases costs.

4. Let them get sick. If a man is not afraid, you cannot sell him protection. This is why protection rackets have two parts: (a) threat followed by (b) offer of (expensive) protection. Modern health care workers understand a similar truth: If a person is not sick, you cannot sell him (expensive) health care. Modern health care workers do not actively make people sick, they let a dysfunctional research system do that. (E.g., cluelessness about how to stimulate the immune system.) Then they pounce — and the money starts to flow. Once the money starts flowing, political power builds up. In a sane world, schools of public health, which care about prevention, would receive vastly more money than medical schools, which ignore prevention. In fact, the opposite is true.

This is why personal science will be so important: It is a way around our massively-dysfunctional health-care system — dysfunctional, that is, for everyone outside it.

 

Health Care Stagnation

In December, the Los Angeles Times reported — very briefly — that from 2007 to 2008, life expectancy in the United States declined by 0.1 year. It should have been the lead story of every newspaper in the country with the largest possible headlines (“ LESS LIFE“). Did 9/11 reduce life expectancy this much? Of course not. Did World War II? Not in a visible way — American life expectancy rose during World War II. I can’t think any event in the last 100 years that made such a difference to Americans. The decline is even more newsworthy when you realize: 1. It is the continuation of trends. The yearly increase in life expectancy has been dropping for about the last 40 years. 2. Americans spend far more on health care than any other country. Meaning vast resources have been available to translate new discoveries into practice. 3. Americans spend far more on health research than any other country and should be the first to benefit from new discoveries.

Maybe I’m biased (because my research is health-related) but I think this is the biggest event of our time. It is the Industrial Revolution in reverse — progress grinding to a halt. For no obvious reason, just as the Industrial Revolution had no obvious reason. Health researchers have been given billions of dollars to improve our health, the whole system has been given tens of billions of dollars, and the result is … nothing. Worse than nothing.

No journalist, with the exception of Gary Taubes, seems the least bit aware of this. It is a difficult story to cover, true. But several journalists, such as health writers for The New Yorker (Atul Gawande, Michael Specter, and Jerome Groopman) are perfectly capable of covering it. They haven’t. With a few exceptions, they write about progress (e.g., Peter Provonost’s checklists). It is like only reporting instances when Dirk Nowitzki missed a free throw. Each instance is true but the big picture they create — he misses all free throws — is profoundly false.

Among academics, the stagnation has received a tiny amount of attention. In a recent paper (gated), two University of Southern California professors, considering a wider time period, point out that there has been some improvement in how long you live after you get sick, but no improvement in how long you live before getting sick. Here is how the discussion section of their article begins:

There is substantial evidence that we have done little to date [meaning: from the 1960s to the 1990s] to eliminate or delay disease or the physiological changes that are linked to age. For example, the incidence of a first heart attack has remained relatively stable between the 1960s and 1990s and the incidence of some of the most important cancers has been increasing until very recently. Similarly, there have been substantial increases in the incidence of diabetes in the last decades.

Here is my explanation of the paradox of: 1. Enormous and increasing health care costs. 2. Vast amounts spent on research. 3. No better health. Health researchers, such as medical school professors, shape their research to favor expensive treatments, such as expensive drugs. In fact, the best treatments would cost nothing (e.g., the Shangri-La Diet). To make the expensive treatments seem worth studying, they invent utterly false theories and claim to believe them. For an example (research about depression), see The Emperor’s New Drugs by Irving Kirsch. Because health researchers are forced to worship absurd theories, they are incapable of good research. Absence of good research is why there is no progress. The health care supply chain — everyone between you and the research, such as doctors, nurses, drug company employees, hospital employees, alternative medicine practitioners, medical device makers, and so on — is happy with the situation (useless research) because it ensures that little will change and they will continue to get paid. They are the supposed experts — and remain silent.

It is human nature that everyone in the supply chain remains silent. They are protecting their jobs. But the silence of the journalists is The Emperor’s New Clothes writ large. To explain why smart journalists fail to notice the stagnation, I think you have to go back to studies of conformity. When everyone you talk to — people in the supply chain — says black = white (i.e., that progress is being made), you say the same thing.

Why is personal science, the main subject of this blog, important? Because it is a way out of this stagnation.