Epistemic Trespassers Beware

When does straying from your lane become a wonderland or an omnishambles?

Much was made of the “armchair epidemiologist” phenomenon during the pandemic, where a tidal wave of people with no previous experience in infectious disease epidemiology were trying their hand at interpreting growth curves, transmission links and more. This was often to the frustration of established infectious disease experts, who could easily be drowned out in the noise.

Epistemic trespassing describes people who may have expertise in one domain, passing judgment within a completely separate domain. During the past few years we have seen some examples of how this can be wonderful, but can also be a disaster. In which direction this goes largely depends on two factors:

1. Transferrable skills. How closely the new domain is related to your usual expertise, and how you are able to relate your knowledge and wisdom to the new field

2. Humility. Your level of awareness that you have strayed from your field of expertise, where your limitations may lie, and how much caution you bring to the conversation

The welcome trespasser

The obvious wins in this area have undoubtedly come from the UKs self described data nerds. A whole ecosystem of people with backgrounds in maths or unrelated data analysis came together to interrogate and dissect the UKs unrivalled wealth of high quality, open access data. They brought a tremendous amount of insight, and even uncovered issues which might have otherwise gone unnoticed.

Why was this such a success? On transferrable skills, this community was full of people with very high levels of ability in handling and interpreting data, but also in fundamental maths - this is important, as high level infectious disease epidemiology is heavily dependant on mathematical equations. This knowledge therefore was readily transferrable from one domain into another.

But most importantly, this ecosystem was full of people who were acutely aware of what their skills did, and did not allow them to do. Contributors were quick to draw the line at where they were unable to comment further. They excelled at describing what was happening and what might happen, but were equally quick to admit that deciding on the implications or subsequent policy actions were beyond their scope. They readily asked questions about what could explain the trends they observed and were eager to listen.

Whilst they were trespassers, they tiptoed into this new area with caution, frequently asked for directions, and due to their wonderful contributions were quickly invited further in.

The insufferable oaf

Needless to say, not all experiences turn out this way. An encyclopaedia could be filled with examples of disastrous forays into new fields by otherwise intelligent individuals, especially during the pandemic. Even people with transferrable skills, such as from other, unrelated fields of epidemiology, blundered into the topic with such bravado and lack of self awareness that they frequently spread incorrect information. Worse, they often did not listen where they had opportunities to learn from their mistakes.

To give an extreme but useful example of epistemically trespassing gone wrong, I recently came across a twitter thread claiming monkeypox, chickenpox, and smallpox were all just a single disease. It will come as no surprise that the author has no background in any field of science or medicine.

This person has strayed so far from their field of expertise, that trying to correct the extraordinarily long chain of nonsense which had led them to this conclusion was impossible. They lacked such basic understanding of how diseases are characterised, what we know about viruses, how we identify then and differentiate them, the variation in symptom profiles etc, that to convince them (if indeed they could ever be convinced) would require hours of remedial biomedical education. It is simply not worth it.

This is a wonderful example of Brandolini’s law, or the “bullshit asymmetry” principle. It is remarkably easy, particularly in the internet age, to produce and disseminate misinformation. Countering the misinformation takes an order of magnitude more effort.

This is the problem that a blundering epistemic trespasser can create. They are unaware of the countless incorrect assumptions they have made on the way to their erroneous conclusion, and therefore why they effortlessly dismiss your attempts to demonstrate why they are wrong. Because no one wants to waste their time climbing this fruitless Everest, the person continues to believe they are correct.

It can be immediately obvious to someone with domain expertise that a particular theory is false, implausible, or unlikely, but this realisation comes from this theory being placed in an extensive existing framework of knowledge - a context which is not always easily boiled down to a simple explanation (let alone in 280 characters).

The unnoticed trespass

Where the issue is more insidious is when scientists move from their expertise in delivering or interpreting science, to recommending policy decisions based on these interventions.

A scientist can tell you how eating a bacon sandwich every day might affect your risk of developing cancer. They cannot tell you how often you should eat a bacon sandwich. This distinction might not be immediately obvious, but in reality a persons decision of how often to eat a bacon sandwich is determined by much more than how it affects their risk of getting cancer, and almost all these other things are completely beyond the scope of the scientists expertise. The one exception to this is the tricky example of Public Health specialists, who are discussed at the end.

We have seen this acutely during the pandemic, where scientists who may well be qualified to suggest what the effect of implementing different measures might be, have gone on to say that “following the science” tells you how you should, or should not intervene.

This is epistemic trespassing.

That is not to say that it is wrong for scientists to voice these opinions - but rather than tiptoeing carefully into public policy, many scientists have acted as the insufferable oaf, blundering in with little awareness of the limitations of their knowledge.

Scientists of course can, and often should comment on policy. But we must be aware that when we do, we have strayed from science into politics. Once we are trespassing, we must do so with caution and humility.

We may know a lot about our field of expertise, but that certainly does not make us experts in public policy.

The Public Health tight rope

There are of course examples where the public may look to scientists for direct advice when it comes to health, and this is where public health specialists come in. They have to tread the difficult line between understanding the evidence (and it’s relative strengths and weaknesses), the social, political and economic landscape in which they operate, and somehow parse this all into some form of guidance or recommendations.

Sometimes this is easy, when the recommendation is relatively harmless and the benefits are high, for example asking people not to attend work or school with diarrhoea and vomiting until 48h after symptoms have cleared.

As the pandemic has clearly demonstrated, this becomes more difficult when the margin of cost:benefit is tight, or worse, uncertain. What recommendations do you make, or should you make any at all? If you recommend something which later turns out to be harmful, the public will now be worse off than if you had said nothing at all.

Learning how to manage these complexities and tread such fine lines takes a huge amount of training. There is a reason this is a speciality all of its own.

Tread with caution

Epistemic trespassing can be wonderful when it is also accompanied by curiosity and humility. We all have diverse skills and frameworks for understanding data and it’s implications, and this can greatly enrich the scientific process.

But all scientific domains have their own minefields. Beware if you have stepped out of your own that you no longer know where they lie, and may be in danger of blowing yourself (and those you bring with you) up.