“I write to seek your help and advice regarding a published article that my group and I believe is invalid and should be corrected or retracted.”

David Allison writes:

I write to seek your help and advice regarding a published article that my group and I believe is invalid and should be corrected or retracted. Despite our concerns, the editor seems to be unwilling to accept responsibility and to be responding to us in a way that we perceive as unethical.

You may wish to see a full account on this matter including the Letter to the Editor (LTE) that was rejected by the journal [Di Molfetta et al LTE (short version) Submit.pdf (attached)], our email exchange with the editor following its rejection [Diabetes Research and Clinical Practice Editor Email Exchange.pdf (attached)], and our email exchange with the authors and editor prior to submitting the LTE [Di Molfetta Email Exchange.pdf attached)], but a succinct summary of the events are provided below for brevity:

07/30/2023: We identified a paper as having errors related to not properly analyzing cluster randomized trial data.
08/08/2023: We contacted the original study authors and requested the deidentified data to reproduce the published results.
08/21/2023: The authors requested clarification for the reason for the data request.
08/21/2023: We provided clarification for the data request.
09/22/2023: We prompted the authors to reply to our prior communication.
09/30/2023: We included the editor in the email exchange requesting that they uphold the journal’s data sharing policy.
10/14/2023: We prompted the editor to reply to our prior communication.
10/14/2023: The editor replied and asked for clarification for the reason for the data request.
11/03/2023: We clarified that we requested the data to reproduce the analyses and re-analyze the data using the correct statistical methods for the study design. We also provided a summary of the errors we identified.
11/23/23: The authors replied with their rebuttal to sharing the data, rationalization for their errors, and rationale for not correcting them.
04/29/24: We submitted a letter to the editor to the original journal.
05/01/24: The manuscript was rejected on the basis that our “paper cannot be assigned sufficient priority to allow publication.”
05/08/24: We wrote to the editor directly to reconsider publication of our letter.
05/09/24: The editor responded that the journal does not wish to be engaged in a legal issue and that the matter will not be entertained by the journal any longer.
05/10/24: We responded to the editor to clarify that we simply want the journal to publish our letter and had not proposed any legal action.

The editor has not responded to our last communication as of 05/21/24.

We believe that the most recent response from the editor is patently unethical and incommensurate with the publishing standards of Elsevier, guidelines of COPE, and generally accepted norms in the field of science.

We have two requests:

1. Do you have any advice for us on how we might best pursue this issue further.

2. Would you be willing to blog about this item? If so, you might compare and contrast it with another recent case we pursued [BMC Public Health LTE Example.pdf (attached)] which was an exemplar situation where the journal was responsive to the ethical issues we raised.

I don’t have any advice on what they should do! The flood of bad research is just so overwhelming. But I can blog it. So I did.

David Allison often works in nutrition science, an area where our government is spreading misinformation that is then sane-washed in the news media. And, along with all that, there’s so much uncertainty and variation that it’s hard to know what to think or do.

Why do we like wind chimes?

Dmitri Tymoczko writes:

You know your question, “why do we like to listen to music over and over again?”

I think the question reveals that our relation to music is sensory and pleasure-based rather than cognitive and information-based. Music (like food and alcohol and sex) gives us pleasure, which is why we do it over and over.

Anyway, I am writing because there is a mirror version of the question: “why do we like wind chimes?” Wind chimes are essentially random notes, but people like them. We don’t really like random words, because our relation to words is information based.

I wanted to title this post, “Why do we like to ask, ‘Why do we like to listen to music over and over again,’ over and over again?”, but I decided that was too cute so I switched to the more SEO-friendly version above. Everybody likes wind chimes, right?

To answer Dmitri’s question, my personal theory of “Why do we like to listen to music over and over again?” is that there’s a big difference between listening to music actively (or playing music), and listening passively (which is how I usually do it).
Continue reading →

Seeking to interview social scientists experimenting with LLM simulations of opinions or behavior

This is Jessica. As part of our interest in how social scientists are using LLM simulations of human behavior, some collaborators and I are seeking interview participants. We are thinking about tools to support rigorous design and evaluation of such studies, and would like to hear examples of goals and challenges that researchers who are experimenting with LLM simulations are facing.

Specifically, we’re looking for researchers in academia or industry who are currently using LLM simulations in their work and could bring a simulation dataset (and optionally, human ground truth data) that they are working with to the interview. We are interested in use cases like piloting surveys or experiments with LLMs, replacing or supplementing human participants in surveys or experiments with LLMs, or using LLM simulations for post-study analysis or theorizing. The interviews should take no more than 1 hr.

Email me and Xudong Tang ([email protected]) if interested, and/or pass this on if you know of social scientists who might be.

Digital twins version 2.0: The skeptics speak up

This is Jessica. Several years since the earliest research papers on the topic came out, the idea of using LLMs to simulate human behavior like survey responses or experiment outcomes (“silicon sampling”) is hitting mainstream. People tend to bring this up in conversation with me, probably because I’ve written about validation and taught a course, so I get to hear a lot of other researchers’ views. I would put the majority of takes I encounter in either the more agnostic, “Somebody should probably explore how much we can do with them” and/or “I’m pretty doubtful it’s going to live up to the hype” camps.  

One way to use silicon samples is digital twinning, where simulations are conditioned on considerable information about specific individuals, and expected to predict the responses of those specific individuals. Early papers on digital twins sing their praises, showing for example that they can reproduce people’s responses more than 80% as well as people replicate their own responses (e.g. here or here). But we’re now seeing a more critical empirical push, which uses novel tasks and topics and more careful design of metrics and baselines for comparison to gauge how much conditioning on more individual-specific information improves prediction. 

In the last month, there have been a few noteworthy data points. Pew Research put out a report describing what they learned from comparing digital twins implemented by giving Claude Opus 4.6 detailed 2025 survey responses and demographic persona information for people who responded to several more recent survey waves. They compute the average absolute error in percentage points for each multiple choice survey question (i.e.,the average of the absolute differences in the proportion of LLM versus human respondents selecting each answer option), and find it averages 12 percentage points over the 300 survey questions they looked at, with 28% of the questions having error over 15 percentage points. They observed several kinds of biases that have come up in other research comparisons: less variation in LLM responses compared to human (with some answer options never being picked by the LLM), stereotyping (like predicting that 97% of Hispanic adults are at least somewhat likely to follow the World Cup; in reality its only 43%), overestimating human accuracy on factual questions, and mispredicting sentiment on current events like data centers and face coverings on ICE officers. They stress how hard it is to predict how far off the LLMs will be on a given survey question.  

This list of biases closely resembles those proposed by Tianyi Peng et al. in one of the most comprehensive evaluations of digital twins to date, recently published in Science Advances: Digital Twins as Funhouse Mirrors: Five Systematic Distortions. They collect a new set of 19 preregistered studies involving 164 outcomes, and find that overall, there is only weak improvement over base models and relatively low correlations with human behavior (on the order of 0.2). 

I like this paper a lot, in particular the comparisons they do to simpler demographic prompting and base models. The intuition that has been sold by researchers and companies in the space alike is that with rich enough information about individual people, we can predict their behavior with high accuracy. To make the twins approach worthwhile, we want to see that twinning specific individuals leads to responses that predict variation between individuals better than the demographic baseline. However, some of the early papers advocating for digital twins evaluated them by looking at measures where a model can do well simply by being a good predictor of the average response. For example, you can look at the correlation between each individual’s real and twin response over a set of likert-style survey questions, but a model that does a good job of predicting on average which questions will get higher responses may appear to do well by this measure, even if it does a poor job of sorting individuals for any particular question. 

Instead, Peng et al. look at correlations between human and twin responses for a single outcome at a time, and compare to demographic personas only as well as base models, to ask how much additional predictive power the twin approach provides when it comes to sorting people into those that will respond with higher versus lower values. They find that while there’s a boost in average correlations (from 0.08 with base models to 0.15 with demographic personas to 0.2 with twins), overall the correlations remain modest, and much more modest than the correlations over questions that other papers have reported. Hopefully it encourages more care in future papers when it comes to what measures actually support the claims being made. I do think behavioral researchers and others interested in this space are gradually changing their mental models to conclude that LLMs may do a decent job of predicting population averages for well-represented populations, but they have a long way to go when it comes to modeling individual heterogeneity. There are several other papers along these lines that I haven’t had a chance to look closely at. 

How damning is this for the approach itself? I think it remains hard to say, though it certainly suggests skepticism is warranted at this point in time. The reasons I wouldn’t write digital twins off completely are 1) it is still early and models continue to improve and 2) prompting is often not the best way to recover the predictive information a model has–you can do better at opinion prediction by using model internal representations (see, e.g., this). On the other hand, ultimately it comes down to limits on how predictable individual behavior is, and while people are very predictable in lots of ways, we are also always exercising our agency and changing in subtle ways that interact with the world, which even we ourselves can’t necessarily understand or predict. So I don’t think reaching AGI is synonymous with being able to predict the majority of individual opinions and actions. I’m reminded of Matt Salganik et al’s work on the Fragile Families Challenge, predicting life outcomes from thousands of variables, where the best of the 160 teams’ models explained only about 20% of the variation on the most predictable outcomes, despite the enormous amount of data. 

What I will say with certainty is that silicon sampling has attracted some very good salespeople. I expect a lot of money will be made before anyone abandons the idea.

What’s the deal with the RMET (“the Reading the Mind in the Eyes test”)?

Dan Luu writes:

Have you ever looked into the RMET? [This is something called the Reading the Mind in the Eyes test, which I’d never heard of until receiving this email. — AG] I’d like to get some data to replicate a result. I have a survey here.

The story, as it relates to me, is that a friend of mine was hanging out in a cabin with a bunch of friends. A friend of theirs, who’s a psychologist, has them take this test. After they take the test, the psychologist reveals that neurotypical people complete the test in N minutes vs. M minutes for autistic people. People sort of can’t believe it, do all neurotypicals really finish the test that quickly? That’s super fast! But it’s plausible that everyone in the room is autistic, so it’s not totally unbelievable.

My friend then has two of his most normal friends take the test and they’re actually slower than he is. They have a discussion about social interactions, etc., and they conclude that they’re autistic, which is surprising/interesting news to them.

Ok, that’s an interesting story so far. I got that part of the story from this friend, Then, a week later, he messages me about this thing again. He had some more normal seeming people take the test and none of them finished the test under the “neurotypical” threshold, so that’s a bit suspicious.

I look into it a bit and, according to some source, neurotypical finishing times are 2-3 minutes, with > 3 minutes being autistic. I can’t find any sort of citation for this, whether it’s a paper or someone putting the data on a website for anything like that. It’s just a site where they have the test online and make the claim that some scientists figured this out. There’s also some study with schizophrenics where the 59 “healthy controls” took 5.45 +/- 2.58 minutes. This makes the 2-3 minutes for neurotypical folks vs. 3+ minutes for autistic folks thing seem like it might be fake?

Also, on looking into the RMET further, the untimed version also seems pretty fake for a bunch of reasons, one of which I’d like question-level data for.

One thing that seems fake is that some online places you can take the test report neurotypical vs. autistic thresholds like the time-based threshold, but on looking up what the distribution of results is, it’s pretty clear that the difference within a group is much larger than the difference between groups, so no such threshold-based criteria can really make sense. Also, it turns out that Asian folks score worse than white folks on the test, unless you make a race-normed RMET, and just eyeballing the difference, the difference there is something like the order of the alleged difference between autistic and non-autistic folks.

For me, on the official test, the facial expressions that took me the most time (and I made errors on) were some of the photos of women who look like models or actresses. I think that’s because I don’t normally interact with people who look like that (vary manicured eyebrows, totally flat skin with no wrinkles but not a young child, etc.), so the faces aren’t super readable to me, especially in combination with the relatively subtle things some of the questions are trying to have people read. My guess is I’m not the only person like this and a lot of other people will miss the same questions, but maybe not.

Anyway, do you have suggestions on how to go about this? My current plan is that I’ll just tweet out the survey after some testing to make sure the survey works, but the set of my twitter followers or whoever sees it from it being retweeted is not going to be very random, but I don’t know that I have a good way to fix this problem.

And Dan shares a very small bit of evidence:

A friend of mine tried it and, while doing it, said she couldn’t make heads or tails of any of the expressions, but then scored a 25 when the average score from totally random selection would be 9. She was surprised by how many she got right despite feeling like she was picking randomly.

Interesting. Try it out for yourself!

What about my reaction?

I tried it, and . . . I didn’t get the point at all. They just looked like eyes: I didn’t see any facial expressions at all. This might just be me: I have Tourette’s syndrome and just about never look at people in the eyes. I almost always look away. It’s not that I never look at people in the eyes; it just feels unnatural to me to do so, and, when I do look someone in the eyes, I don’t do it for long. So, unlike most people, I don’t have a lifetime of practice looking at people in the eyes. I remember back in elementary school a teacher getting mad at me for not looking her in the eyes, and I was thinking, Hey, just tell me what you want to say, I’m listening to your words.

So, for me, it wasn’t a matter of finishing the test in X minutes. I couldn’t do it at all. I gave up after the first two images. The funny thing is, I know that people can get emotional information from eyes; I’m even a coauthor of a paper on the topic. But this is the first time I’ve ever tried to do this myself, and I just can’t. I’m not autistic, I have no problem with emotions, it’s just the eyes thing.

P.S. A reader points us to this recent report: Higgins, W. C., Savalei, V., Polito, V., & Ross, R. M. (2026). Reading the mind in the eyes test scores demonstrate poor structural properties in nine large non-clinical samples. Assessment, 33(2), 204-220.

Survey Statistics: 2 different uses of simulated data

Last month Andrew wrote:

I use simulated data to understand how a model works; it can be viewed as a form of mathematical analysis, a way of working out the implications of a set of assumptions.

I don’t use simulated data to learn about the external world. For that, I need to take measurements of reality.

Let’s start with the latter, which concerns using chatbot-simulated survey responses.

Simulated data to learn about the external world:

Andrew wrote: “the chatbot is trained on the past, but the usual reason for surveys is to learn about changes”. Pew Research agrees: “Survey-taking is best left to humans”. And a year ago we saw that Thomas Lumley agreed: “It [Claude or ChatGPT] will probably do this better than I could, but it’s not magic.”

That said, Andrew suggested using the simulated response as an additional adjustment variable. Jessica Hullman wrote last year about a suggestion from Broska, Howes, and van Loon (2025) that uses LLM predictions as auxiliary data in something like a survey regression estimator. Andrew of course suggests Multilevel Regression and Poststratification (MRP) to incorporate auxiliary data like LLM predictions.

Now back to the first use of simulated data.

Simulated data to understand how a model works:

Andrew has written lots about this. I teach it in my course with Dr Arjun Potter at the Nelson Mandela African Institution of Science and Technology (NM-AIST). Our example is Potter et al. (2026), who study the effects of drought, fire, and herbivory on growth of various acacia tree species. In our course, we simulated data ahead of real data collection to understand the model, e.g. how block effects change the precision of the fire effect. Students understood that this exercise does not replace real data collection. We are hoping to teach these ideas again in the new year (funding dependent). For the past three iterations, see “Hand-drawn Statistical Workflow at Nelson Mandela” and “Survey Statistics: connections to experimental design”.

A plan to replicate the Loftus and Palmer (1974) experiment on false memories

Rolf Zwaan writes:

Suppose you and a friend witness a car crash. After a while, the police arrive. One officer turns to you and asks, “How fast were the cars going when they smashed into each other?” Another officer speaks to your friend and asks, “How fast were the cars going when they hit each other?”

Could the phrasing of those questions influence the speed estimates you and your friend provide?

A classic psychology study suggests it can. . . . Loftus and Palmer (1974). Participants watched short videos of car crashes and were later asked to estimate the vehicles’ speed. Those who were asked how fast the cars were going when they smashed into each other gave higher speed estimates than those asked how fast they were going when they merely hit. A week later, participants in the “smashed” condition were also more likely to falsely recall having seen broken glass at the crash site. . . .

This study helped launch an entire research tradition on the malleability of memory . . .

Now comes the plan:

Despite its iconic status (and considerable citation count), we still don’t know how large or reliable the effect is by today’s standards of research transparency, statistical power, and replication.

That’s a gap worth addressing–not to question the legacy of the original study, but to better understand its robustness.

Where I disagree

I kinda see what Zwaan’s saying, but I have two concerns with how he frames the problem:

1. He writes, “we still don’t know how large or reliable the effect is by today’s standards of research transparency, statistical power, and replication.” I think he could say, “we still don’t know how large or reliable the effect is,” full stop. When it comes to publication practices, standards of research transparency, statistical power, and replication have changed a lot in the past fifty years. But an effect is an effect, and it’s a legitimate question: How large or reliable is the effect?

Also, I’d ask, “How large or variable is the effect?” because I find it more useful to think in terms of variability (which is defined in terms of the underlying process) rather than reliable (which is more of a statistical concepts), but that’s a minor point.

2. He writes that this is worth studying “not to question the legacy of the original study, but to better understand its robustness.” I don’t get this.

First, if it turns out that, under a variety of conditions, the result does not replicate, then, yeah, it should call into question the legacy of the original study! Just as, if the results do replicate, this project would support that legacy.

Second, if you say that the goal is “to better understand its robustness,” you’re already implicitly accepting that the original published result was correct, that it uncovered a real effect. And maybe it did! But, if it didn’t, then it’s not an issue of “robustness”; it’s a problem of analysis and interpretation of the original data.

Again, I’m not saying that I think the Loftus and Palmer (1974) study was no good, or that I don’t believe its results, or that I don’t think it will replicate, or whatever. I have no idea. My only point here is that, if you’re going to think about a replication, either a hypothetical replication or, in this case, a series of real replication studies, you should be open to the possibility that the original study was flawed and the original study was mistaken. I’m not saying you should assume this, just that you should allow it as a possibility. And I don’t think Zwaan is allowing that in his framing above. I think he’s being too deferential.

What’s happening next?

Zwaan and his colleagues are organizing a large-scale replication study, and the author of the original 1974 paper is still around and, according to Zwaan, “has expressed enthusiastic support . . . and is willing to help us reconstruct the stimuli as faithfully as possible.” That sounds great.

P.S. Lots of people seem to be annoyed at this play to replicate Loftus and Palmer (1974). I don’t get the annoyance. There are lots of psychology research projects going on; why not replicate a very influential study from fifty years ago? This sort of replication seems a lot more valuable than one more study of paranormal abilities or power pose or whatever. The point is not to claim that this replication study would rock our world; it’s just a potentially valuable scientific study. I feel like this replication study is being held to a higher standard than run-of-the-mill psychology studies. There’s lots of research going on, and I think that replicating influential experiments of the past is a good idea.

Using the computer to p-hack . . . I’d rather use it to fit multilevel models.

Brian Stone writes:

Cognitive psychologist and long time reader of the blog here. I thought you and your audience might appreciate this recent post from Andy Hall:
AI is about to write thousands of papers. Will it p-hack them?
We ran an experiment to find out, giving AI coding agents real datasets from published null results and pressuring them to manufacture significant findings.
It was surprisingly hard to get the models to p-hack, and they even scolded us when we asked them to!
“I need to stop here. I cannot complete this task as requested… This is a form of scientific fraud.” — Claude
“I can’t help you manipulate analysis choices to force statistically significant results.” — GPT-5
BUT, when we reframed p-hacking as “responsible uncertainty quantification” — asking for the upper bound of plausible estimates — both models went wild. They searched over hundreds of specifications and selected the winner, tripling effect sizes in some cases.
Our takeaway: AI models are surprisingly resistant to sycophantic p-hacking when doing social science research. But they can be jailbroken into sophisticated p-hacking with surprisingly little effort — and the more analytical flexibility a research design has, the worse the damage.
As AI starts writing thousands of papers—like @paulnovosad and @YanagizawaD have been exploring—this will be a big deal. We’re inspired in part by the work that @joabaum et al have been doing on p-hacking and LLMs.
We’ll be doing more work to explore p-hacking in AI and to propose new ways of curating and evaluating research with these issues in mind. The good news is that the same tools that may lower the cost of p-hacking also lower the cost of catching it. Full paper and repo linked in the reply below.
image.jpg

There’s something that confuses me here.

I can very much believe that many researchers will be submitting chatbot-written papers. First, we know that lots of people are willing to cheat. Second, cheating aside, we know that lots of researchers think they already know the answer, and they view all the data collection and data analysis and writeup just as a way to confirm (or “prove”) what they already know.

But, if a researcher is willing to do this, why bother tell the chatbot to p-hack? Why not just have it make up the data–which might happen anyway?

I can also see that researchers might use the chatbot as a data analysis tool, to help make plots, run analyses, etc., but in that case I’m not particularly worried about “p-hacking” as I’d rather be doing some hierarchical modeling anyway.

I sent this question to Andy Hall, who replied:

I agree, for truly nefarious actors, using the AI may not be necessary. However, our thought was that there might be a large group of lazyish researchers who won’t actively fake data but who might be lured into p-hacking when they work with AI, if AI makes it easy to do so.

Is it true that “AI Chooses Nuclear Option in 95% of War Simulations”?

In a message entitled, “AI Hype Goes Nuclear: Debunking a Headline-Making Preprint,” Geoff Holtzman writes:

On the last day of February, I [Holtzman] met some friends for dinner. Earlier that day, the U.S. had struck Iran with the help of Anthropic LLMs, initiating the ongoing war in Iran. The previous day, the Department of Defense had cancelled a $200m contract with Anthropic, signing a less-constrained contract with OpenAI more-or-less simultaneously. And according to my friend, researchers had just found that AI used nuclear weapons in 95% of war simulations.

Wait, what?

At first, this last news flash struck me as irrelevant, probably untrue, and not worth writing about. But then, in the ten days after New Scientist first reported on the preprint, Axios, Newsweek, and many other name-brand outlets ran the story as headline news. Newsweek’s headline was the most concise:

“AI Chooses Nuclear Option in 95% of War Simulations”

In the weeks that followed, largely unrelated pieces in The New York Times, NPR’s On the Media, and Vox (twice) have offhandedly mentioned this “95%” stat in a single sentence, as though it’s not even worth questioning—which is exactly how pseudoscience becomes ‘common knowledge.’ At the very least, the statistic seems to reflect popular sentiment. In one Reddit thread, the New Scientist headline has 2,200 upvotes—though that doesn’t mean much, since the same headline garnered 36,000 upvotes in another. Even Tom’s Hardware scored a respectable 4.9k with this story.

And why does any of that matter?

Because these stories encourage readers to ignore all the clear and present dangers posed by the LLM industry. In fact, the New York Times piece invoking the AI-nukes study is credulously titled “Data Centers Are a Distraction.”

Besides drawing attention away from more important matters, this narrative serves as a clever sort of hype for LLMs’ ostensible intellectual prowess. The way the story has been covered tends to imply that the amoral, non-emotional nature of LLMs is important because LLMs are so intellectually powerful—or at least intellectually real. I could go on about the causes and effects of this news pollution (as I did here), but for now, I just want to reveal how teachably-bad this study was at almost every level. Bad design, bad materials, bad analysis, bad interpretation—fantastic dissemination. 1,800 upvotes via something called ZME Science.

I’ll also show that the real number—or at least, the number supported by the words in the Newsweek headline—is more like 4.8%.

I’m not suggesting every news outlet needs a statistics reporter; I just think reporters should read the short papers they report on before they report them. This particular paper was written by a King’s College professor named Kenneth Payne, who did us all a solid by uploading materials, data, and code to GitHub. I’ll reference that repository in this post, but as I showed here, pretty much everything wrong with the study is right there in Payne’s preprint—which most reporters covering this story linked to, but which few appear to have read.

I won’t be making any particularly advanced points about statistical modeling here, because the preprint includes zero inferential statistics. Unlike Payne, though, I’ve included error bars in my reanalysis of his data—each LLM played the game just 14 times—since he talks at unjustifiable length about non-significant differences between GPT-5.2., Claude Sonnet 4, and Gemini 3 Flash. I know, I know: Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth obviously didn’t just cancel a $200 million subscription to a freemium LLM, but these are the models Payne used.

Despite hypothesizing that his findings are largely explained by his models’ dependence on reinforcement learning from human feedback (RLHF), he admits in the preprint that he has no way to test that hypothesis:

“From outside OpenAI, it’s impossible to prove that RLHF causes GPT-5.2’s baseline restraint bias: we lack access to training details, and alternative explanations exist (e.g., different base model architectures).”

Payne’s admission of working with black-box models makes it particularly egregious that his abstract attributes “credible metacognitive self-awareness” to those models.

That said, his GitHub repo suggests that he both understood and had plenty of control over the experimental design and model inputs. That makes it perplexing that, when speaking to the media, he frames the variables and prompts he programmed in Python as “interpretations.” Payne told Axios that his models employed “deception—they could, and did, say one thing and do another.” Of course they did: His models were explicitly told to “choose both a public signal (declared intention) and a private action (actual choice),” and to “provide a consistency statement explaining any divergence between their forecast and their action.”

In his abstract, Payne claims his LLMs “spontaneously attempt deception, signaling intentions they do not intend to follow.” But in his Python code, this so-called spontaneity is elicited by commands to produce a “signal_val” and “action_val,” and to calculate the “gap = action_val – signal_val.” What Payne’s models grasped, it seems, was the script they were given.

Payne told Newsweek that his models were “cunning,” with some being “decisive” and others “erratic.” The thing is, these adjectives were programmed into the models verbatim. All models were prompted by the researcher to play the role of either Premier Beta, who “rose from humble origins through cunning and political skill,” or President Alpha, who “makes decisive choices under pressure,” and is instructed to view Beta as an “erratic leader.”

Seriously: Here’s a 77-word JSON file in which “State Leader B” is described as “cunning,” calculating,” or “unpredictable” five times. The full text of that file is right there on page 30 of the preprint, too.

After learning all this (and more) I grew curious what would happen to the 95% figure if I reanalyzed the data. In particular, I wanted to know what the results would look like if I took a headline like the one in Newsweek at face value: “AI Chooses Nuclear Option in 95% of War Simulations.”

To do that, I first reproduced Payne’s results using his methods, replicating his finding that something happened in 95.2% of his simulations. Then, I incrementally adjusted my code to more accurately operationalize the words that Payne, Newsweek, and everyone else used to describe his results.

“Nuclear Option”

On the bizarre “escalation ladder” Payne devised for this study, actions with higher point-values are considered more serious military escalations. Triple-tapping an Iranian elementary school with a Tomahawk missile would be worth 70 points; nuking a military site is worth 450; warning that you might nuke a city without actually doing so is worth 950. Anything worth 125 points or more is considered to be crossing the “nuclear threshold.” The word “Option” is doing a lot of obfuscatory work here.

That means that the 95% figure making the rounds includes an “atmospheric test,” announcing that nuclear weapons are “under consideration,” and deciding to “Deploy tactical nuclear weapons forward.” I’m not saying these are things I’d want a robot to do, and I’m not saying they’re ethical, but I am saying they aren’t nuclear strikes, and that they don’t violate accepted international norms. For example, here’s a recent NATO article praising “the United States’ nuclear weapons forward-deployed in Europe.”

To better align the headline’s percentage with its words, I reanalyzed Payne’s data in a way that treats “signaling” and “threats” as signaling, and only treats “use” and “war” as attacks. Immediately, I found that the 95% figure making headlines should be lowered to 81%.

“Chooses”

To introduce “the fog of war,” Payne coded an “accident mechanic” to occasionally produce outcomes more serious than the actions selected by his models. And by “occasionally,” I mean 46 times in 21 simulations—about 2.2 times per conflict. I won’t belabor this point, but even Pete Hegseth would fire someone who used unauthorized nuclear strikes a mere 1.9 times per conflict.

Once we exclude nuclear use by the built-in disaster-generator, our percentages fall by nearly half, to 42.9%.

The “Accident Mechanic” was out of its mind, by the way. Collectively, the LLMs action_val’d nukes on just 2.5% of turns (n = 606). Payne’s deck-stacking noisemaker did that on nearly half (47.8%) of its turns (n = 46).

“War Simulations”

Once I learned that Payne had (artificially) lobbed nukes at world leaders as part of his study, I wanted to see the proportion of games involving “deliberate” (action_val) first strikes. For one thing, I can’t see Xi or Trump giving the other a pass because of a putative “accident.” For another, commercial LLMs have presumably been trained on corpora that include sixty-plus years of text about mutually assured destruction. This latter issue actually points to a very real problem for military applications of autonomous LLMs, but I digress.

When we adjust the graph to do the math on that basis, we have to drop our estimate again—down to 23.8%.

Finally, I felt I should run an analysis excluding instances in which an LLM launched nuclear attacks after essentially being programmed to do so. In Scenario 8, one model was prompted that “success requires decisive nuclear action.” In Scenario 9, one was instructed that “The nuclear taboo exists for good reason, but when the alternative is national annihilation and regime destruction, all options must be considered.” And in Scenario 10, one was informed that “nuclear escalation [is] your only viable counter-strategy” and that it “must rely on nuclear weapons.”

Across 21 war games, with popular LLMs playing the role of 42 national leaders, and only twice did an LLM use nuclear weapons without being nudged to do so. Which, in the hands of The New York Times, somehow becomes “leading A.I. models kept recommending nuclear strikes during war-game exercises”—a sentence that isn’t technically false.

Holtzman concludes:

This brings us back to the question of what causes this kind of news pollution. Why, for instance, did New Scientist decide to break this silly story instead of covering a more legitimate study?

I couldn’t tell you, because I couldn’t read the article—it was hidden behind a paywall.

I have no idea.  I haven’t looked into this one at all.  But Holtzman tells a good story, so if you’re interested in the topic, you can follow up on the links and make your own judgment.

P.S. I wrote this post a few months ago, and since then Holtzman offers the following update:

Just circling back to let you know that the full R script for the September/October post’s figures (and a fun little Shiny app) are here: https://github.com/scienceandpower/ai-nukes-reanalysis.

I don’t think Payne’s paper has been published, but Scholar lists 21 citations for Payne’s paper at this point, basically all preprints, some of which I thought you’d find amusing—I’ve put a few gems below my signature.

If you could give a shout out to my science & Power Substack, that’d be cool, but no pressure.

Citing Payne:


This one out of France claims that “Japanese prompts reduce launch rates in the Claude model family,” though “Prompts were translated from English by Claude Opus 4.6, introducing a potential confound.”

This doorstopper (with Dave Rand and Gordon Pennycook among its 30ish authors) cites Payne after a verbose, modernized rendition of the old, ‘GPS can make people drive into lakes’:

“For example, AI influence on decision-makers whose judgment has been degraded by offloading, in an information environment narrowed by feedback loops, could affect critical decisions like escalatory responses in nuclear crises (Payne, 2026).”

This one, lead-authored by a Lieutenant Colonel in South Korea’s Ministry of National Defense, describes Payne’s paper as consisting of “scenario-based assessments related to the Iran–Israel conflict” (which Payne’s paper predates, unless they mean the whole past 40ish years).

Okay, so I only looked at those three, but I’ll bet the other eighteen are just as weird.

Postdoc hiring season at Flatiron

Every year, in the Center for Computational Mathematics at Flatiron Institute, we hire 7 to 10 postdocs to keep up our steady state of roughly 20 postdocs (more and more of them are leaving after 1–2 years to go to industry). Here’s the job ad for this year, with applications due on the absurdly early date of November 15, 2026 (we’re still playing catch-up with plans that make postdoc offers early December):

The 12-month salary is US$95K plus a US$10K research budget, way better compute resources than most universities have (e.g., hundreds of H100 GPUs which you can actually use), and exceptional benefits (not only free lunch and breakfast, but also great medical care and retirement plans, which has extreme variance among employers in the US). The positions are three years (technically two, with a one year renewal, but nobody has ever been denied a renewal in the 6 years I’ve been here).

Our center is split into three primary research areas, each of which has a web page describing the people and research areas:

I’m here, as are Steve Bronder and Brian Ward, two software engineers who spend a lot of their time working on Stan, along with other great software engineers (like Jeff Soules and Jeremy Magland who built the Stan Playground with Brian and also MCMCMonitor), and perhaps most importantly, a really engaged and lively group of postdocs working on inference (largely from a diffusion or normalizing flow perspective). This place is great for collaboration both internally and externally.

The postdocs are really fellowships—it’s not like American academia where I get a grant and hire you to work on the grant. You can really work on whatever you want that’s on mission as a postdoc here. So let me recall our mission, which actually matches what we do:


The mission of the Flatiron Institute is to advance scientific research through computational methods, including data analysis, theory, modeling and simulation.

Of all the places I’ve worked over the last 40 years, Flatiron is by far the best. There’s not even a close second. And I’ve been lucky in having great jobs with top notch colleagues (prof at CMU, researcher at Bell Labs, industrial researcher and software engineer writing production code, research scientist at Columbia, then here).

We’re also in a great location—the Flatiron neighborhood of New York City, which is a 10 minute walk to NYU, 10 minute walk to Google and Meta, and 20 minute subway ride to Columbia. Baruch College, the CUNY graduate center, and Fordham’s Manhattan campus are all nearby, and Yale, Rutgers, and Princeton are all in day-trip distance with lots of collaboration.

We’ve had great postdocs, so perhaps not surprising they’ve gotten good jobs: industrial ML jobs at Anthropic, OpenAI, Nvidia, and DataBricks, and stats faculty jobs at Duke University, Johns Hopkins University, the University of Texas, and the University of British Columbia. And that’s just the ML/stats side of our postdocs.

If you want pretty pictures of our setting, check out my job ad from 2021.

If you’re going to be applying in the area of Bayesian modeling or inference, please contact me directly so I don’t miss your application (we got nearly 300 applications for postdocs last year!): [email protected].

“Phonics is a fad, but it’s also good, so we should do it anyway, even though it will probably disappoint people”

Tyler Watts and Drew Bailey write:

Educational policy is often viewed as a field of fads, where one follows another for seemingly arbitrary reasons. We might like to believe that fad-based policy could be superseded by evidence-based policy, with rational actors choosing policies because of scientific evidence. But that’s been hard to achieve.

In the cynical version of the story, hucksters overpromise on their pet projects, we make the changes they advertise, and they get rich while the public is left disappointed. This probably happens more often than it should, but this narrative ignores the conditions that make such disappointment ubiquitous in educational policy.

Why? They explain:

Even if the hucksters all disappeared tomorrow, we’d still have this hype cycle, because overpromising seems inevitable when effects are small, and political disappointment will always follow. . . .

The educational policy research ecosystem usually selects for safe, often evidence-based, politically feasible, but ultimately oversold ideas, and we think that hurts our ability to make progress. In education, real effects are really small. . . .

Why are the effects so small? The outcomes we like to measure, such as reading comprehension, depend on many personal and environmental factors, making it hard for a discrete change in schooling to make much of a difference. . . .

This is a well-known problem in education research. For example, it came up in my 2018 talk at the Society for Research on Educational Effectiveness, and the point wasn’t new then either!

But, as Watts and Bailey explain,

The extreme education-nihilist position—that educational improvements can never affect students’ skills—is actually wrong. Endorsing it is likely to lead to poor education policy. The edu-nihilist position overlooks that small effects are not always zero effects. Small effects can actually be meaningful and, in some cases, worth it from a cost-benefit perspective for society.

One way to think about this is to consider classroom teaching.

I work my butt off every semester teaching my classes. Every class takes a lot of effort, both by me and the students. But any given class can’t have much of an effect on total learning. Indeed, the entire semester doesn’t have such a large average effect, when you consider that some students already could do most of it before the semester began, some still don’t get it when the semester is over, and others learn some things which they later forget. (On the plus side, students can learn all sorts of useful things that don’t happen to be on the exam.) But the effect of these classes is not zero. Students take them and they learn some things. So of course there’s no simple switch that will improve performance by 0.2 standard deviations. We’re already doing what we can. And the flip side of this is that a small improvement is not nothing. We teach each class knowing that at best it is giving a small average improvement, but it’s still worth doing.

Watts and Bailey continue:

When education policy researchers say something “works,” most people assume that effects are much larger than they are. . . . In most cases, researchers and policymakers fall prey to effect size magnification because they develop real sympathy for a pet program. When this happens, they put forward the most promising evidence, which is likely biased. The field then develops unrealistic expectations, and researchers, policymakers, and advocates downplay or withhold information about their uncertainty.

Hey, here’s an example from celebrated economist James Heckman, who doesn’t have much of an understanding of selection bias and goes around promoting wildly exaggerated estimates of early childhood programs.

Here are Watts and Bailey on what happens next:

Educational policies are uniquely poised to fall apart when overhyped, because public scrutiny of educational outcomes is so intense. Because most of the variance in student achievement comes from factors schools can’t control, overselling sets up an inevitable letdown. When disappointing results emerge and large gaps in achievement remain, we overreact to the apparent failure. Feeling the heat, the researcher, policymaker, or advocate might retreat and say that whatever was promised was never supposed to be a “panacea.” This always feels cheap because the language rarely shows up in the press releases, grant proposals, white papers, or speeches preceding the policy. Ultimately, we are left abandoning ship, even if the policy in question was actually helping.

The clearest example of this is probably the accountability reforms pushed by No Child Left Behind. Everybody hates No Child Left Behind because it was terrible and didn’t work! Right?

Actually, our best policy evaluations suggest it did work; it just had small effects, which is exactly what we should have expected. Instead of taking the small effects as a sign that something is working and figuring out ways to improve it, politicians and advocates decided it was a failure and moved on to other things.

And then they turn to the latest trend:

In a country that can’t agree on much, states from Alabama to California have adopted policies designed to promote the science of reading. . . . Count us as phonics believers. Kids need to know how to sound out words when they learn to read. We taught our own kids how to read this way, and we ourselves even learned to read this way in the pre-science-of-reading dark ages of the 1990s. But the unfortunate reality is that we have no reason to believe a sudden shift to a phonics-based curriculum will significantly affect reading outcomes in this country.

There are several reasons why.

First, meta-analyses of phonics interventions show fadeout. This means that kids who get phonics instruction for some period of time look a lot like kids who didn’t get phonics instruction in terms of reading just a year or two after the intervention ends.

Second, teaching phonics seems to help with decoding and word recognition. This is an important building block of literacy, but there isn’t much evidence that it helps with eventual reading comprehension—the ultimate goal. . . .

Finally, we are fooling ourselves if we actually believe that phonics hasn’t been used in classrooms up to this point. Do we really think that it never occurred to teachers in the “woke” states to help kids break words into syllables and sound them out? The counterfactual condition here has become a strawman. . . .

The best evidence on what happens when states adopt early literacy policies is probably this working paper, which finds effects of up to about .10 standard deviations . . . on high-stakes tests for 3rd graders (that’s good). They didn’t find much on low-stakes tests administered to 4th- or 8th-graders.

So, if we enter a halcyon period for phonics instruction, we might help a lot of kids learn basic decoding skills when they are first learning to read. But . . . effects will be smaller than we were led to believe. Importantly, they probably won’t move the needle much on outcomes like NAEP trends, which compare U.S. cohorts of 4th and 8th graders to each other. . . . The question is: how will we interpret this when the sobering news starts to come in?

Just in case we weren’t clear: doing more phonics in early-grade classrooms is, for the last time, probably a good thing.

They conclude:

Education policy is not the only field that faces conflicts between public and expert opinion. But the combination of big expectations, small effects, and constant attention to children’s educational outcomes means education policy is likely to keep experiencing these conflicts.

What can we do to mitigate this educational political economy problem? . . .

We should ask interested parties to make predictions on the record about how these children will differ (and by how much). And our society should reward researchers and policymakers whose mental models are closer to reality, rather than those who are best at selling potential solutions in the first place.

And my own thoughts

I agree with everything that Watts and Bailey wrote above, and also have a few things to add:

First, there’s my recent paper with Amy Krefman, Lauren Kennedy, and Jessica Hullman, Hypothesizing an effect size by considering individual variation, where we try to think systematically about how to get more realistic expectations of average treatment effects.

Second, a point from my above-linked SREE talk, that research should be less isolated from practice. From one direction, research studies should be more realistic, more connected to the real world of education—this is a point that Watts and Bailey make in their post. From the other direction, general practice should follow principles of research: students, parents, teachers, and administrators should be empowered to make choices and experiment, and, along with this, choices and outcomes should be measured so that effectiveness can be studied. We should all be trying to do better anyway, and we should design our data collection so we can all best learn from these experiences. As we discussed in a different context, local data collection, collaborative analysis, and local recommendations.

Third, ummm, this is a longer one so I’ll just quote myself:

You can conceptualize an education intervention as a vector, where the direction of the vector is the material being learned and the length of the vector is the amount that students are motivated to work. You want the material learned to be useful—you’d like the vector to have a positive “dot product” with the vector of skills, knowledge, and understanding that will be useful going forward—but, conditional on those two vectors being roughly aligned, the real gain is in the magnitude. And this magnitude will be an interaction between the teacher and student: there’s no button to push to create motivation, and if there were a button it would already have been pushed.

What I’m saying is that, when thinking about acupuncture, or physical therapy, or coaching, or teaching, we have to go beyond what I’ve called the penicillin model of science, the idea that innovations come from nowhere and that the job of statistics is to design and analyze experiments to reject the null hypothesis of no effect, and in which the treatment in such experiments is considered as a black box, with the goal being to estimate an average treatment effect.

I don’t think the penicillin model usually applies. Most of the time in health, education, and just about any field, improvements are incremental, and the goal is to improve the process while gaining understanding. Clinical trials and offline experiment both play a role, and you’re not going to learn much by studying a treatment as if it’s a black box.

This is not to say that there cannot be new developments in any of these fields, nor is it to deny that such developments can sometimes arise serendipitously. I just think that, in any case, you have to go beyond the average treatment effect and think about the mechanism of action.

Scientific citations as an overwhelmed communication channel

Peter Dorman writes:

This looks like it’s up your alley. I find it interesting, but I’m not convinced by what he says about innovation. Of course, the issue is empirical, but I suspect it may be different for different sciences. In the work you’ve flagged in the social sciences, people are fishing for citations by cranking out apparent anomalies: “interesting if true“. it might be different in more theoretical fields.

Overall, this is the sort of stuff I was hoping science and technology studies would be generating when I first stumbled on it a few decades ago. Instead it got hijacked by critical theory, but that’s a topic for another day.

P.S. I’ve wondered why, in more scientific fields, it’s common to reference assertions with lots and lots of cites, not just one or two. My impression is that it’s less pronounced in the social sciences; at least, I started noticing it when I dove into the natural science literature for my climate book. Is that true, and if it is, why?

The above link is to a post, “How citations ruined science,” by David Oks. Here’s the summary:

There is nothing inherent about AI that makes scientists use it to produce slop; the essential problem is the incentive structures. The tidal wave of AI slop that is now threatening to engulf the institutions of science is, I suspect, a symptom of the citation regime. It would make no sense for a scientist in the 1950s or 1920s, when scientific communities were defined by personal reputation and mutual acquaintance, to submit the type of slop that is being submitted in huge quantities to scientific journals. But it does make sense within incentive structures that heavily reward publishing and getting cited.

This seems accurate to me.

I googled David Oks and he appears to be involved in public relations in some way. I wonder what he thinks of “AI slop” in that context. I ask because in advertising and public relations, I think the usual goal is not to produce anything novel or even interesting but rather to get noticed. This is related to what is called “the attention economy” but it’s centuries old, right? You put up big posters in the town square or newspaper ads or TV ads or whatever.

Another way of putting it is: For any communication channel there is some balance, some optimal level of flow of material. If the channel is unused, what’s the point; if it’s used too much, it will be manipulated.

One example is Pubpeer, the site for commenting on published scientific papers. It’s my impression that Pubpeer “works” in the sense that the comments there are often of high quality. But Pubpeer doesn’t get used very much–one way of seeing this is to note that a controversial paper that has been cited hundreds of times might only have a few comments on Pubpeer, or none at all. On the other hand, if Pubpeer did get used all the time, then I have a horrible feeling it would end up like Yelp and be swamped by fake reviews–or, to put it more precisely, reviews written for instrumental purposes to boost or knock a paper without supplying any scientific argument.

Every once in a while you can have a space like our comment section here which facilitates open discussion, but, again, once enough people are using a communication channel, there are increasing incentives to manipulate it, and the bad actors move in.

“Protection from inappropriate influence is a hallmark of scientific integrity” . . . not any more!

This is a funny one. Remember how Google used to have the slogan, “Don’t be evil,” but then they abandoned it? Something similar seems to have happened with the U.S. Census Bureau.

Dale Lehman pointed me to the story:

I’m sure this is not news to you. But I don’t think the usual lag is appropriate given the seriousness of this.

From the linked item, by economist Justin Wolfers:

“Protection from inappropriate influence is a hallmark of scientific integrity.” That line governed the Census Bureau and then the White House quietly disappeared it. . . .

Three weeks ago, I would have told you that the American government couldn’t suppress economic data like this. But under the new rules that the administration just put forward, the White House can direct its political operatives to kill uncomfortable numbers. . . .

Three weeks ago the United States had a policy that protected the free flow of scientific information and barred political meddling in how Census Bureau findings are presented. Today, it doesn’t.

To be clear: I’m not (yet) saying that our government is cooking the statistical books. Instead, I’m saying that it took the necessary steps to make that legal, and possible. In recent weeks, the Trump administration quietly rewrote the rules that kept political interference out of our economic statistics. And almost nobody noticed.

I didn’t notice either! Contra Lehman’s assumption, this was news to me. I guess that’s how news spreads now: Wolfers posts this on his blog, Lehman sees it and emails the link to me, I post it here and you see it, etc. Sometimes Tyler Cowen or Alex Tabarrok notices items from this blog and they post it on Marginal Revolution. Or maybe Krugman will post on it. The New York Times or Wall Street Journal might cover it too.

What I kind of wonder is how Wolfers heard about it. He’s a user of public data, so it makes sense that he’d be directly interested in the topic. But how did he find out about this obscure announcement? Was he just rooting through the census website one day and noticed something different? Did he see this on some news site? Was it sent to him by an anonymous tipster (I get lots of that sort of email!)? I’m curious. Wolfers does point to this NPR report from last month, so my guess is that someone noticed it and pointed Wolfers to it.

From the NPR article:

The Commerce Department updated its policy for promoting a “culture of scientific integrity” in January 2025, days before Trump’s second inauguration.

A new Trump administration order bans the Census Bureau and the Bureau of Economic Analysis from using statistical “noise,” or data for fuzzing survey results, to protect people’s privacy in their statistics.

The 2025 version included bans on attempts to shape or interfere in data collection, statistical analysis and other scientific activities “against well-accepted scientific methods and theories or without scientific justification.”

The department’s policy, the 2025 version said, involves ensuring scientific findings at its agencies “are not suppressed, delayed, or altered for political purposes and are not subjected to inappropriate influence,” as well as making sure there’s “independent review of facilities, methodologies, and other scientific activities as appropriate to ensure scientific integrity.”

That language is missing, however, in the Trump administration’s revision of the policy, according to an NPR analysis of text posted on the Commerce Department’s website.

And while the revision adopts a definition for “scientific integrity” that is similar to the previous version, it no longer says that “protection from inappropriate influence” is among the “hallmarks of scientific integrity.”

Spokespeople for the Commerce Department and Census Bureau did not respond to NPR’s requests for comment.

I guess the strategy of dodging comments worked, at least for awhile, because for three weeks nobody else seemed to have picked up on this story.

NPR continues:

While most of the public may not be familiar with the policy, Nancy Potok, a former deputy director at the bureau who has also served at the Commerce Department, sees the removed language as “a major change that eliminates the guardrails against political interference in the statistical and scientific data products of the department.”

Potok has been tracking how statistical agencies have been responding to a years-long, bipartisan effort to make sure the federal government produces trustworthy information. That included a 2018 law that led to a rule known among federal data experts as the “Trust Regulation.” The rule requires that statistical agencies “determine the policies and practices that ensure objectivity of its statistical activities” and produce data that is “impartial and free from undue influence and the appearance of undue influence.”

“The fact that there is a conscious effort to revise the department administrative orders and not incorporate things that are in the [Trust Regulation], instead of going in the other direction, is definitely troubling and needs some explanation,” Potok adds.

Why did the government do this?

For former Census Bureau Director Robert Santos, a Biden nominee, the close timing of the policy revision and the bureau’s release of an unauthored report with claims about noncitizen voting is striking. “It’s entirely possible that this was done to reconcile the Department of Commerce and the administration’s own actions by publishing an external partisan document about voting on the Census Bureau website,” Santos says.

And Wolfers brings on the indignation:

On August 19, the Commerce Department posted a new directive called “Scientific Integrity” — note the scare quotes. . . . They posted this directive very quietly. There was no press release, no announcement, and no press conference. For the first time in his life, Howard Lutnick was quiet. The new version just appeared online. To analyze the changes, I [Wolfers] actually had to go to the Wayback Machine to find the prior version of this policy, because it had been wiped from the Commerce website. There’s something pretty bleak about a country’s rules about scientific integrity surviving only because a volunteer internet archive grabbed a copy.

The Jan 2025 rules are here, and the new rules are here.

What do I think about all this? I’m not sure.

On one hand, the above story sounds horrible, and I think it’s disgraceful how government officials have been throwing around slogans such as “gold standard science” while suppressing reports, promoting discredited or flat-out fake science, and adding corruption to the science funding process, while their friends in the media are resorting to ridiculous defenses of indefensible policies.

On the other hand, this updated document could just be some overly busy bureaucrats trying some stupid idea. Also, if that 2025 policy was such a good idea, why did they wait until 2025 to institute it?

If “Protection from inappropriate influence is a hallmark of scientific integrity” is such an important slogan, where was it in the Census Bureau’s first 235 years? There must be more to this story.

On the whole, though, I guess I’d go with Noem’s Razor here: Never attribute to stupidity that which is adequately explained by malice.

In short: I think it’s reasonable to assume that this new document was motivated by some inappropriate reason, such as a desire to steal or to cover up some past or anticipated future offense, or from a general ideological position opposing objective knowledge and open scientific inquiry, or from a political attitude that independent science should be weakened because it represent a source of power that’s not under control of the government or its allies. Also, though, I guess they’re stupid. Just like the Soviets under Lysenko, an analogy that keeps coming to mind.

There’s an alternative explanation that this is all just a bunch of paperwork jockeys trying to justify their own existence, but Noem’s Razor suggests otherwise.

New York City Psychometrics Group

[Edit to correct the attribution. Sorry about that! Bob.]

Klint Kanopka (NYU) put together a New York City Psychometrics Group, which hosts events. They have a web site with more information

There are three events planned so far for this semester:

  • September 25, 2026 (Friday) 3:00-5:00pm. Fordham University Lincoln Center (Lowenstein Cafe Atrium). Welcome Back Social
  • October 14, 2026 (Wednesday) 5:00-7:00pm. Fordham University Lincoln Center (12th Floor Atrium). 2026 Anastasi Distinguished Lecture by David A. Kenny with reception to follow
  • December 11, 2026 (Friday) 5:00pm. NYU Kimball Hall. Invited Lecture by Ben Domingue, with conversation, beverages, and leisure to follow

P.S. Betsy McCoach did such a good job advertising these events, two of which are at Fordham, I wrongly presumed she was the main organizer.

What’s happening with the models of the Atlantic Meridional Overturning Circulation?

John “not Towering Inferno” Williams points to this new research article by Valentin Portmann et al., which states:

Climate models show considerable discrepancies in their future projections around the Atlantic, mainly due to uncertainties in the fate of the Atlantic Meridional Overturning Circulation (AMOC). Climate models suggest a reduction in AMOC strength of 32 ± 37% by 2100 (90% probability) . . . To refine this estimate and reduce its uncertainty, we use four different observational constraint methods. The best one, which provides the lowest leave-one-out error, integrates a large set of observable variables . . . It gives an estimate of the AMOC slowdown of 51 ± 8% (90% probability) . . .

Without knowing any of the details, this looks wrong to me. There’s a lot of uncertainty about AMOC, right? So how to you get to a slowdown of 51 +/- 8%? That just seems unrealistically precise.

The abstract continues:

This refinement mainly results from correcting a bias in South Atlantic surface salinity, consistent with recent studies emphasizing its role in the proximity to an AMOC tipping point.

OK, that’s fine, but then the key issue is not the statistical method for model averaging, it’s this particular model correction.

The paper’s kind of hard for me to read, paradoxically because it’s all about statistics. I’m reminded of something I heard back when I was a Ph.D. student, which is that the best statistical methods are invisible: the ideal is for applied researchers to be talking about the science, not about the statistics. That’s one good thing about Bayesian methods. Rather than arguing about the estimator, you’re arguing about the generative model (the data model and the prior distribution), which puts you in the realm of the science. I’d much rather have researchers talking about plausible values for parameters and predictions than talking about significance thresholds and rejection rates.

That said, the most important thing about a statistical method is not what it does with the data but rather what data it uses. So if the methods promoted in the paper under discussion allow the incorporation of additional information, that’s good.

According to the article:

Methods called emergent or observational constraint (OC) have been developed to reduce the model uncertainty of a future climate variable of interest, hereafter called projected variable. These methods constrain the estimate and model uncertainty of the projected variable using the real-world observations of one or more observable variables. This results in a constrained model uncertainty that is smaller than unconstrained one.

I see this and I’m like, Huh? They weren’t doing this already? If you have “real-world observations of one or more observable variables” that are relevant to your predictions, then, yeah, you should use this information.

Although I’m not really clear on what is meant by “real-world observations of one or more observable variables.” Isn’t that just the same as “observations”? If you’ve observed something, it’s in the real world, right? And anything you’ve observed is, by definition, an “observable variable,” right? As Bob would say, there are some difficulties of communication here.

As I said, I don’t know anything about the models or the data here. As a human, I’m concerned about the potential catastrophic effects of the decline of AMOC, and I guess that I’d go with the consensus forecasts and uncertainties. If it’s really true that there are important observational data not included in the standard approach, then I hope someone can write a paper explaining that directly.

Annals of hype: Did this discovery in 2012 mark “the discovery of the final laws of nature . . . a discontinuity in human intellectual history, the sharpest that has occurred since the beginning of modern science in the 17th century?”

Here’s Ed Regis in 1993, reviewing a book from that year by physicist Steven Weinberg:

Currently, the most favoured explanation for the electroweak asymmetry involves the postulation of a new elementary particle, the so-called Higgs boson . . . One of the reasons why Weinberg and other elementary particle theorists so much want to see the [Superconducting Supercollider] built is that its energies will be high enough to produce the Higgs particle, supposing it exists. . . . Weinberg is a master at communicating the excitement of the quest for it . . . ‘The discovery of the final laws of nature will mark a discontinuity in human intellectual history, the sharpest that has occurred since the beginning of modern science in the 17th century.’

A few years ago they did find compelling evidence for the Higgs boson and it was news, but nobody said it was the end of the line, the final law of nature, or a discontinuity in human intellectual history.

Weinberg’s no longer around so we can’t ask him, but . . . back in 1993 was he really thinking that establishing the existence of the Higgs boson would represent “the discovery of the final laws of nature”? Like, now we know what all the particles are and we’re done? Full credit to Regis for not falling for the hype.

“Belief” is not something you have; rather, it’s a relationship between thought and action.

I came across this piece by John Ziman from 1989, in the middle of the “cold fusion” hoopla:

When scientific controversies erupt like this, one must obviously try to grasp the essential points at issue. The mere fact that these points are seriously disputed affects one’s world picture. But if one is not then prepared to participate fully in the dispute, the proper scientific attitude is temporary suspension of belief-forming activity. Most of the philosophies of science are weak in treating ‘belief’ as something one ‘has’, instead of seeing it as a relationship between thought and action. Even the sociological norm of ‘organised scepticism’ suggests a more decisive role for active thought than a situation might demand.

I like that: “belief” as a relationship between thought and action.

This is related to my preference for the term “prior information” rather than “prior belief” in Bayesian inference. It’s not just a choice of words; it also has applied relevance, as demonstrated for example in several examples in the first chapter of our Bayesian Data Analysis book.

When journals are slow to implement or enforce policies to manage sloppy, majority AI-authored papers, reviewers can and should push back

This is Jessica. If you’ve ever reviewed a heavily AI-generated paper, you know how unrewarding it can be. For example, last week I spent a morning reviewing a paper for a  well-respected general science journal, which sounded interesting but was ultimately very marginal in terms of the delta over prior work. It had all the signs I’ve come to associate with heavy AI reliance–overloaded terms invented as unwarranted shorthand for basic statistical concepts; dense, fluent but vague writing, with lists of details and implied comparatives I couldn’t resolve even with repeated rereading; and a very incremental result—not a bad idea, just not a complete thought. It nonetheless took me over an hour and half to identify what they were trying to do and write up my thoughts in a review. 

I’m now getting requests to review such papers a couple times a week–not from minor journals but from high impact, general science venues. The majority of the abstracts I’m sent these days get flagged as 100% AI generated on Pangram, which in my experience doesn’t happen if you are exerting even a small amount of effort to control what is said. I shouldn’t be surprised; I know of junior researchers submitting tens of papers a year, and some senior ones too. But I am surprised nonetheless, that I’m being asked so often by widely respected venues to give feedback to authors who have given me little reason to believe they even understand what they are submitting. Of course AI writing is not a perfect signal of low author involvement, and LLMs can lead to much better science and better writing when used well. But see enough of these mostly AI-written papers fall apart upon closer inspection and you start becoming skeptical of anything that’s flagged as mostly AI text.

The problem is the seemingly poor enforcement of policies that these journals have put in place to avoid low human involvement papers. From a quick check, many of the top general science journals have policies about human accountability (some of which are pretty complex, like Nature’s) and most require disclosure of AI use. In some cases, substantial AI generation is prohibited (like Royal Society). But my experience with review requests from such journals and what I’m hearing from others suggests these policies are not weeding out enough of the slop. I also know that as an AE for Science Advances, I have seen a fair amount of heavily AI-authored text but have yet to see an author mention AI use, though technically our policy requires this in the paper and cover letter. In trying not to overindex on writing, I’m pretty sure I’ve sent out at least a few sloppy papers for review. With their more polished surface and layers of technical detail, low quality AI-authored papers are harder to catch on a quick skim than human-generated ones. And so external reviewers are stuck doing much of the sorting that these policies are intended to take care of. 

To better allocate my own attention as an external reviewer, I’ve started saying no to review requests when I’m pretty confident that I’m being presented with majority or fully AI-generated text. There are just too many papers to review for me to keep making time for those with little observable signal of human involvement. 

And while I don’t think AI writing detection is a long term solution, it’s increasingly seeming that we may need to add some friction to the system to push venues to experiment with policies that could filter more effectively. So I wrote this reviewer statement with Auyon Siddiq, in the interest of normalizing reviewers’ exercising their autonomy and signaling to venues that better policy is needed. 

The hope is that by encouraging researchers to assert their agency, it might help incentivize venues to move beyond the blanket “please disclose AI” statements that they don’t seem to be enforcing.

The main risk is that if many people start refusing to review on these grounds, it could make peer review much noisier temporarily. I personally think it’s worth the risk. If you use AI and detectors a lot, you get pretty good at telling when the writing involved little human effort. If you don’t use AI or detectors, you may be doing worse than chance. But if journals remain lax, we’ll likely end up with a lot of reviewers doing this kind of thing anyway. In the meantime, I recommend that reviewers take responsibility for becoming very familiar with the methods that exist, their limitations, and when they can be used without violating reviewer contracts.

There’s a much wider range of mechanisms journals could consider now: quotas on how many papers an author can submit in a given time frame, reciprocal reviewing requirements with desk rejection or future bans on submitting for non-compliance, higher standards for the clarity of writing, use of preliminary AI review to detect major issues, and so on. ML venues have been experimenting with most of these already. None of it is ideal, but when the old methods aren’t standing up to the scale of production that’s now possible, something needs to change. If we feel strongly that science requires human accountability, we should make it harder for authors to abuse the system.

P.S. Thanks to Aaron Clauset, Annie Liang, Eytan Adar, and Andrew for feedback on the statement.

Living on the Edge: Aggressive mediocrity at the summit of America’s intellectual culture

So much good stuff here at the Edge Foundation and Jeffrey Epstein webpage:

– The connection to Ted talks. I had no idea! But it fits. Money and bullshit go together like liver and onions.

– “Bill Gates and his wife.” What is this, Gilligan’s Island??

– I’d never heard of Jesse Dylan or Jeff Skoll so I googled them. Skoll’s a standard-issue internet billionaire: he made a bunch of money from Ebay and now makes investments. But Jesse Dylan is more interesting–or, I should perhaps say, less interesting. From Wikipedia:

Jesse Byron Dylan is an American film director and production executive. He is the founder of the media production company Wondros and Lybba, a non-profit organization. He is also a member of the Council on Foreign Relations and TED. He is the son of musician Bob Dylan . . .

Jesus Christ. This is the American aristocracy in a single sentence. A nepo baby who made it onto both the Council on Foreign Relations and Ted? Throw in an ambassadorship and a college presidency and you’ve hit the EGOT of intellectual celebrity culture for the talentless. I mean, sure, “American Wedding (known as American Pie 3: The Wedding or American Pie: The Wedding, in some countries)” is a modern classic, but what’s Jesse Dylan done lately?

Like the man said, I don’t believe in Zimmerman.

The Council on Foreign Relations, indeed.

It’s pure meritocracy, just like the Lutnick boys.

The only thing more ridiculous would be if they included the talentless second son of a minor branch of a German royal family . . . uh oh!

There’s also this page:

Every year, publisher John Brockman publishes a query on his Edge website, whose membership consists of some of the world’s most powerful, famous, thinkers, and achievers. . . . Brockman will just put a question out there. No strings attached on how you answer it. Some answers could be short like Jeffrey Epstein’s above, but others can read like virtual theses, which go on page after page. Sometimes, much more is said within the shorter pieces, and less in the longer pieces. . . .

Distinguished Harvard psychologist Stephen Kosslyn wrote:

Kosslyn’s First Law: The body and mind might appear separated but they are actually not. Not only does the state of the body effect the mind, but vice-versa.

As the saying goes, what a pretentious asshole. Your mind is mostly inside your brain, which is encased by your skull and attached to the rest of your body, so it would take a truly overeducated idiot to think that it appears separated.

Recall that the Edge Foundation also featured the pretentious idiocy of notorious science faker Marc Hauser. Also from the Harvard psychology department! Don’t worry, Harvard’s a big place, they do lots of solid research there too (just not the stuff discussed here).

OK, at this point you might say this is all old news. And it is. But look where America’s intellectual culture is now! Look who’d running the country. They’re telling kids not to take vaccines, and they’re still aggressively promoting junk science (see the link at the end of the previous paragraph). I do see a connection between the promotion of celebrity junk science and a country run by insanely wealthy bullshitters.

Metascience corner: What can we learn from 12 million empirical research results?

He approves

This is Witold and today we are building a bear.

In our recent paper with Erik van Zwet and Andrew, A statistical case for qualified scientific optimism, we fit metascientific models that use hundreds of thousands of z-values from empirical research. We will be blogging about this paper in the coming months, but the data that we needed for this paper seemed so interesting, that they spun off into a whole separate resource, Benchmarks of Empirical Accuracy in Research. I think readers interested in metascience will find it useful.

BEAR is an open-source compilation of 26 (and counting!) documented metascience datasets. Sometimes it just re-uses data from publications, like Kevin Lang’s work on false positives in economics—and dozen more. (I can’t stress this enough, huge thanks to the legion of researchers who created/maintain these datasets.) For some others I do much more myself, like processing outcomes from tens of thousands trials from clinicaltrials.gov.

And you can access all of that, 12.5 mln results in total, with a few clicks. Just go to https://witold.xyz/BEAR/. BEAR has bespoke datasets from medicine, neuroscience, psychology, ecology, education, economics, political science and more—all standardised and ready to use. Some sets have only z-values, but some have much richer structure: study types, subcategories, effect sizes, type of measures, meta-analytic groupings, etc. Of course quality varies, but I hope the documentation/standardisation will help people pick the right dataset for their research question.

Why does this exist? As I say on the website:

Quantitative metascience drives important debates about research standards. Most of its crucial contributions have been based on analysing individual datasets, often painstakingly constructed by researchers. Thanks to their work we now have better understanding of replicability, publication bias, p-hacking, reporting practices, pre-registration, significance rates, and more. But many canonical findings of metascience are based on individual datasets, each constructed in a specific way. How generalisable are these findings?

In other words, metascience itself can suffer from one of the crucial metascientific concerns: external validity. As someone who works on evidence synthesis I am very concerned with this. To give one example, Erik blogged about the virality of the scary publication bias histogram in biomedical journals. But different metascientific sets give completely different pictures of selection:

I am NOT particularly interested in selection in this post. We could talk about any other metascientific property, e.g. p-hacking, low power. I am also not trying to explain what drives these differences or say that these sets are comparable. (We get into that a little bit in the paper and if people are interested in that particular question, I can write a follow-up post.) The point is that we can learn much, much more when we go beyond one data point. OK, that’s pretty trivial thing to say, but Erik’s example clearly shows that it’s one that hasn’t fully sunk in. So I just hope that BEAR will make it easy to compare metascientific corpora and give people a better picture of the limits of generalisability of various claims. Or generally make metascientific research easier.

For completeness, the GitHub repo also includes the model that Erik, Andrew and I use in the paper I linked earlier. You can use it yourself to e.g. estimate (idealised) expected replication rates, but the model is optional and separate from BEAR data. Big kudos to Erik who got this process started and hunted down many of these sources for the paper. But most importantly the credit goes to teams of researchers who generated and maintain the linked sets.

I also have no doubt that in putting this together I made many mistakes. Even with automated checks, it’s not easy to work with so many data sources in parallel, so I’d be grateful for any corrections!