The 327th Male

Game theory is a concept in applied mathematics. Like any branch of mathematics, it throws around big sounding terms such as pay-off matrix and Nash equilibrium, but at its heart game theory is really very simple.

Game theory is about winning.

In any game where the rules are clearly defined, game theory can be used to try and find the best strategy. Take a classical game of chicken for example, where two drivers accelerate towards a head-on collision, the one who swerves being the chicken. A traditional pay-off matrix for chicken looks like this:

The matrix is fairly easy to understand; if both players swerve, the game is a tie. Neither player is the chicken and neither player dies. If both players stay the course, they both die - the worst possible outcome. If one player swerves, only their pride will be hurt, while the other gains the honour of winning.

So what is the best way of winning? If you don’t swerve you could die - so you’d better swerve. The other guy will be thinking that as well though, so if you don’t swerve they probably will. But wait - what if he is thinking the same thing! Then you will both die!

Analysing the game in this way, trying to work out the right decisions to achieve the best outcome - most people call this strategy. Mathematicians call it game theory.

Blaise Pascal was a French mathematician who was also very religious. He used game theory’s sibling, decision theory, to try and tell the world that belief in God is the right decision. This is now known as Pascal’s Wager.

The wager states that belief in God is the correct decision because the pay-off is infinite, while the punishment is infinitely painful. The pay-off matrix as proposed by Pascal would look like this:

It would seem Pascal is right. Time to throw away all my years of scepticism - praise be to God the almighty! I see the light! But wait, something tells me the matrix isn’t quite complete. That’s the problem with game theory (and decision theory): it can appear very authoritative until you realise that you haven’t accounted for all the variables.

Take my initial example of chicken. The analysis of the game looks complete, it looks like I have thought of every possible scenario. But what happens if both players swerve in the same direction. There’s a chance that if they both chicken out, they could actually swerve into each other and be killed. Taking this into consideration, the pay-off matrix now looks like this:

In the initial matrix, there was a 25% probability of winning and a 25% probability of crashing. In the new matrix there is only a 22% probability of winning and a 33% probability of crashing. Clearly it could lead to disaster if you base your decisions on the original matrix.

Pascal’s wager is equally flawed. For starters it doesn’t take other religions into account. Let’s add Islam:

Or what about a God / Allah that doesn’t punish wrong choices in belief, and only judges based on how good you have been throughout your life?

And what if God / Allah exists, but actively punishes belief? What if God / Allah wants us to think for ourselves?

As you can see, decision theory isn’t very useful if you don’t know all the rules behind the game, and we know nothing of the rules behind the afterlife, or even whether it exists. This makes the wager an unconvincing argument.

Sorry Pascal, but I’m sticking with atheism.

In a previous post I mentioned that a co-worker was presenting a relaxation session to the rest of the staff, and that said co-worker was involved with the dubious alternative medicine practice called bodytalk. I had hoped that the session would be focused more on simple, proven relaxation techniques like guided visualisations but although these took up half of the session, the other half was on bodytalk.

The exercise she had us go through first was called cortices. Initially this involved tapping the top of your head while breathing in, and tapping your sternum while breathing out. At the end of the exercise she asked the class whether they felt more alert, aware and focused. They didn’t. One concept debunked, and I didn’t even have to confront her or say anything. Of course she justified it by explaining that it often doesn’t work the first few times. It probably takes that long for the placebo effect to kick in.

The most disturbing thing about the session was the explanations given. At one point after the cortices exercise one of the participants yawned. This was taken as instant proof that the cortices had worked - she was yawning because the energy was flowing through her head properly again. I don’t know about you but one person out of ten yawning after five minutes of silent head tapping was probably due to boredom more than anything else. Of course that’s just speculation, the cause and purpose of yawning is still unknown.

In another exercise we were asked to lie still on the floor. Noticing that some people were still moving slightly, our instructor explained that people twitching or performing small movements were doing so because “the energy” was trapped in those places. Of course it had nothing to do with pinched nerves or the fact that I just like to wiggle my toes.

At one point she mentioned that the kundalini at the base of your spine can cause problems if it rises. This sounded odd to me and no one else was questioning it so I asked her,

“Is the kundalini a physical thing?”

“It is the energy at the base of your spine.”

“So sort of like chi then?”

“Yes.”

She then proceeded to explain that the kundalini can cause all kind of problems if it rises unnaturally. Apparently the insane asylums in some foreign country are full of monks, who, through meditation, forced their kundalini to rise before it was ready. Normally our Ganesh - the hindu elephant god - stops the kundalini from rising (lucky for us). After this explanation I didn’t have to bother with any further questioning, the disbelief was already written over my co-worker’s faces. But if I hadn’t asked these questions, the existence of the kundalini might have been brushed over and my co-workers may not have questioned it at all.

This is how alternative medicine works. They give plausible sounding explanations for things at first, but the deeper you dig the more whacko the ideas get. They try not to scare you off with the weird stuff until they’ve got you sucked in to their beliefs. By asking questions at this session I drew out these beliefs so that my co-workers could examine and question them immediately for what they are. I managed to do this without foisting my opinion on them, or stepping on the presenter’s toes simply by asking questions instead of making judgements. I am now more convinced than ever that asking questions is not only the way to be a friendly skeptic, but also the best way to be a convincing skeptic as well.

Those of you who know me well know I am skeptical by nature. I know that the scientific method is the best way to understand any phenomenon, and I am very passionate about it. Ask me what my star sign is and my usual response is a scathing five minute lecture on the fallacies of astrology. As you can imagine this often puts me in a situation of conflict with those around me.

At work I am part of a culture team responsible for the training of staff. Previous training sessions have been on such subjects as time management, effective writing and public speaking. Sitting around deciding who should lead the next session, we decided that a co-worker, known to be involved in alternative medicine, would be a good choice. I’m not sure why but no alarm bells rang at this point. I was thinking of having her run a course on relaxation and stress, possibly a guided visualization. I remember doing them in drama at high school where half the class usually fell asleep. We could use something like that to tone down the stress around our office. After a chat we booked in a timeslot for her training session.

Talking with her again at lunch today I started to get very anxious. She practises what is known as “bodytalk“, and her explanation of it was frightening. As I understand it, her clients come to her with various problems which she corrects by helping the body heal itself. The idea is that problems occur because the communication within the body breaks down. Once this communication is re-established the body can begin repairs.

Sounds reasonable doesn’t it? The alarm bells were tingling, but it wasn’t until she started using terms such as “energy medicine” and “aura” that they began to chime with full strength. I’m no expert in either scientific or alternate medicine, so I won’t go into the full details; suffice it to say I wasn’t sold on the idea. I chewed my salami sandwich, terrified with the question of how to confront her.

How do you tell someone that you question the things they believe in passionately? How do you tell them that your skepticism is equally passionate?

The problem was especially pronounced as I genuinely like my co-worker. Often she is a colourful breath of fresh air around our drab office. I can usually get away with a scathing attack on astrology because not many believe in it passionately, but that was not an option in this case. She wasn’t merely a believer, she was a practitioner.

So I asked her politely if there were any scientific studies to prove or disprove the practice. She assured me there were, and that they showed real positive benefits from the therapy. I don’t doubt that positive benefits are achieved - simple movement, relaxation and the placebo effect could account for that. What I doubt is the explanation for the end result, the idea that by tapping your head and heart you can re-establish the energy flow and lines of communication in your body, thereby allowing it to heal itself. I told her as much, she explained it some more and then lunch was over.

So what do I do now? I am horrified at the idea that she will be presenting this concept as fact to the rest of the staff. And I am the one who asked her to do so! Do I go to the training session? I must, if only to learn more about it and ask the right questions.

Do I confront her ideas during the session? Do I discuss it with the rest of the staff and offer an opposing viewpoint? Or do I sit back and let them make up their own minds?

I think the right approach is not to tell the rest of the staff anything. While I could thrust my opinion at them, instead I will ask them questions about what they believe and what they base it on. In considering my questions hopefully they will learn to be more inquisitive and skeptical themselves.

After all it is the question which is at the heart of science and skepticism, and I believe it is also the correct approach to being a friendly skeptic. In the past I might have been a brow-beating skepticism evangelist, but in the future I will endeavour to be polite and respectful. Even if you ask me my what my star sign is.

Update: Here’s a follow up article written after the training session.