Part One: A World Without Privacy – Are We Truly Being Ourselves? Once again, Caitlin Johnstone highlights a concerning reality: as we comfortably navigate a digital world, we find ourselves under the watchful eye of a modern-day Big Brother. In her piece Today in Dystopia: We Have Cameras Everywhere in that Town, she raises alarming issues:
In today’s dystopia, law enforcement is arresting innocent individuals based on flawed data from AI-enhanced Flock surveillance footage, rather than diligently investigating the facts surrounding the alleged crimes.
Reason Magazine documented several instances where innocent people faced legal turmoil after police charged them based solely on unreliable Flock camera evidence, which could have been easily disproven with basic verification.
For a deeper understanding, click on the link, and visit this description:
Reason shared a body cam video featuring a police officer confidently issuing a court summons for package theft. The officer assured the woman and her husband of her guilt based on Flock footage, claiming, “We have cameras everywhere in that town; you can’t get a breath of fresh air in or out without us knowing.”
The officer insisted, “It is her, it is 100 percent, it is locked in, there is zero doubt; I wouldn’t have come here unless I was 100 percent sure.”
However, Reason reports that the woman managed to clear her name by providing her cellphone tracking data, video recordings from her truck, and additional footage showing her at a different location during the time of the theft. Essentially, she avoided wrongful conviction through her own mass surveillance evidence.
This situation seems to suggest that sometimes two wrongs can make a right. Inevitably, some will echo, “If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear.” One day, those who cling to this notion may face a stark awakening. As Caitlin puts it:
The culmination of wrongful arrests based on inaccurate Flock camera evidence demonstrates how society is growing less critical by relying on technology rather than engaging our own faculties for judgment. Law enforcement is leaning on AI to do their work instead of using their own reasoning to investigate suspects.
Currently, while this Coffee Break is being published, I am preparing for a mandatory workshop focused on teaching medical students about self-directed learning (SDL). The materials suggest a version of ChatGPT will play a part. SDL has gained immense popularity, yet many faculty members here have mastered it since their college days. The same holds true for anyone who has accomplished something meaningful. It’s not a new concept that requires “teaching.” Graduates who lack the ability to self-teach will likely find themselves in less fulfilling medical careers, and I worry for their future patients. Perhaps it’s too late for me to refuse using chatbots in my work. Just last Monday, I warned the incoming class that AI is a crutch that could hinder their intelligence. Transitioning into full hypocrisy may take me longer than expected.
Reflecting on Flock, there’s a camera not too far from my home that I cannot avoid due to a restricted access highway that split our communities apart in the 1960s. However, I wonder if this is a fleeting trend? Likely not. The 158 Flock cameras scattered throughout my medium-sized city are operational and seem to be permanently entrenched. Should any local residents find themselves wrongfully accused due to these cameras, they, along with their friends, possess ample firepower and a detailed digital map of the Flock camera locations… And the reality is that there is nowhere to hide.
Part Two: The Art of Science Communication. There was once a time when many scientists felt it was their responsibility to explain what science is capable of and what limitations it possesses. One of my cherished collective biographies is The Visible College by historian Gary Werskey. His subjects included notable figures such as Joseph Needham, Lancelot Hogben, Hyman Levy, and J.D. Bernal, with J.B.S Haldane among the innovators. However, the field of science communication seems rather barren these days (I acknowledge my inclination toward biological sciences).
Since the recent resurgence of the pandemic, the decline in effective scientific communication has become evident in ways I never anticipated a decade ago. Our former leaders, both scientific and political, have paraded around the phrase “trust the science,” often identifying themselves with science, thereby pushing away genuine scientists who were already disengaged. The situation has been chaotic, with results veering southward.
We require more voices like Liz Marnik, whose story as a scientific communicator is beautifully described in She grew up unvaccinated. Now she’s a leading voice for science – and empathy. This narrative begins with:
At just 23, Elisabeth Marnik sought a vaccine from her doctor. Against everything.
Having never been vaccinated, she was fueled by anger and determination to abandon her mother’s distrust in science. A doctor specializing in adult treatments didn’t have childhood vaccines, leading her to a travel clinic, where she eventually received all the vaccinations once deemed forbidden.
A year later, she finally shared with her mother about her immunizations, and it took many more years before she felt empathy for her mother’s choices.
This self-realization came when Marnik became a mother in 2019. After a challenging childbirth that required multiple blood transfusions, she hesitated when a nurse suggested giving her newborn a hepatitis B vaccination, thinking she’d do it later. With a friend’s gentle reminder of its importance, the baby received the shot before leaving the hospital.
Marnik’s moment of doubt made her reconsider her mother’s choices. “That moment, along with entering motherhood, changed my perspective,” she reflects. “You feel immense pressure to do everything correctly, and that insight breeds compassion.”
Her mother, Teresa Ryan, vividly remembers a pamphlet she discovered years ago. It relayed a story of a healthy child who developed serious health issues following vaccinations, causing Ryan to vehemently oppose immunizations for her own children.
Now 37 and a Ph.D. holder in immunology, Marnik is dedicated to countering the misinformation that once ensnared her mother. With 64,000 Instagram followers (@ScienceWhizLiz) and 4,500 Substack subscribers on the Science Classroom, she encourages vaccine supporters to approach skeptics with empathy. Shaming others, she argues, won’t foster vaccine acceptance. Although considerable evidence indicates vaccine safety, mere facts do little to alter entrenched beliefs.
It’s remarkable that Liz Marnik’s journey as an immunologist and educator was unforeseeable during her upbringing. She transitioned from Central Connecticut State University to Tufts, earning a Ph.D. while conducting research at the Jackson Laboratory in Bar Harbor. We are indeed fortunate that she deviated from the standard path:
Marnik entered a Ph.D. program at Tufts University, based in the Jackson Laboratory, where she studied autoimmune diseases in mice and authored three research papers. When she later began a postdoctoral fellowship at another Bar Harbor institution, the MDI Biological Laboratory, she knew she wouldn’t pursue a traditional route of establishing her lab. While passionate about science, Marnik discovered her true calling lay in sharing that knowledge.
She invited fourth graders to her lab and developed a summer program for high school students to learn about research on Mount Desert Island. Eventually, she assumed the role of director of science education and outreach at the MDI lab.
Her mentors acknowledged her decision to step away from research. “I realized at one point that she’s accomplishing much more than I could ever achieve, making science relevant in ways many of us cannot,” said her advisor at MDI, Dustin Updike.
How fortunate we are that her research mentor was Dustin Updike! Such supportive mentors are rare, a lesson I learned through the reactions of my senior colleagues when I refrained from pushing graduate students into what has become an unfulfilling professional path for many.
What Liz Marnik embodies is empathy. She understands that people often resist listening to scientists because they feel belittled:
In the New York Times, she described her experience growing up without vaccines and later recognized that her mother merely wished to protect her children.
One commenter remarked, “I have zero empathy for those whose narrow views threaten the vulnerable to communicable diseases.” Another proclaimed, “I would have charged your Mom with child endangerment.”
These sentiments imply that individuals rejecting vaccines have easy access to accurate information, which isn’t always the case, Marnik explained. “My mom only completed eighth grade,” she noted. “The one person she trusted for answers didn’t provide any. We couldn’t turn to another provider.”
That “one person” was undoubtedly their family doctor. This is a fundamental issue: many healthcare providers fail to connect with their patients, leaving them without essential information. Similarly, numerous scientists struggle to effectively communicate their work and its significance to society. During my more active days at international conferences, I readily volunteered to listen to the quick pitches of graduate students and postdoctoral researchers. The saying goes: “If you can’t explain your research to a non-scientist in a two-minute elevator pitch, you’re doing it wrong.” Yet, many scientists assume that the public lacks the capacity to understand their work.
Returning to The Visible College, it’s no coincidence that those five scientists thrived in a period defined by a significant political left, while still being respected members of the academic elite. Each of them, while capable of error, never looked down upon those who differed from them. The stark contrast between them and the narrow-minded eugenicists of their time is an untold story. Just as those short-sighted eugenicists appear to have reemerged, offering another captivating tale.
Part Three: The Changing Landscape of AI in Medicine. The floodgates have opened, and the consequences may be dire. I witnessed this firsthand today when I encountered a clinical note about my spouse, likely “composed” by a chatbot with imperfect transcription within EPIC. It concluded with: “(The patient) has a history of tonsillar malignancy treated… with cisplatin and radiation and recalls prior treatment-related neutropenia/leukopenia” (declining white blood cell count). No, that was information I conveyed during a three-way conversation with the surgeon. For those following IM Doc, your warnings have been spot-on.
Moreover, more absurdities have emerged in a recent article from STAT News, AI has created a shadow medical system. I suspect that so-called AI experts are constructing a very real and perilous medical system that thrives amid the profit motives of the American healthcare landscape:
Occasionally, headlines proclaim that artificial intelligence has matched a doctor, surpassed a doctor, or is prepared to become one. Recent studies assert that AI outperforms physicians in clinical reasoning tasks.
This implication is clear: doctors are slow, costly, and inherently human, while AI is faster and potentially superior.
These headlines suggesting AI is ready to supplant physicians have already spurred the emergence of a parallel, profit-driven medical system distinct from traditional healthcare.
Over 40 million Americans consult ChatGPT daily about health issues, most interactions occurring outside regular clinic hours, often returning them to unqualified sources—individuals who lack the knowledge about what care they need or how to evaluate the information they receive. The models themselves increasingly fail to direct users toward appropriate care pathways. A study published this year indicated that the medical disclaimers once commonplace in chatbot responses have largely vanished; modern models now not only address health inquiries but also offer follow-up questions and attempt diagnoses.
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This rapid change in medicine’s landscape, occurring at an unprecedented scale, contrasts with the implementation of AI in fields like law or finance, partly due to financial incentives. Healthcare constitutes nearly one-fifth of the American economy. Capturing portions of a physician’s duties or convincing hospitals, insurers, or patients they can reduce costs without sacrificing care quality creates massive economic incentives. This motivates every major AI firm to venture into healthcare. Headlines suggesting that AI is ready to replace doctors only intensify the market’s demand.
However, this too will inevitably face repercussions. While I’m not a practicing clinician, I emphasize to my students that no machine can genuinely care for a patient or provide them the reassurance they need. Only a physician can hold a patient’s hand or calmly address their fears.
As the authors rightly conclude in this optimistic opinion piece:
IBM captured it eloquently in a 1979 training manual: “A computer can never be held accountable; thus, it should never make a management decision.”
Adjust “management” to “medical,” and the insight becomes glaringly apparent. A frequent golfing companion of mine, a surgeon taken with the capabilities of AI in refining clinical scenarios, often benefits from its outputs. But, as they say, surgeons tend to do everything but know nothing, while internists possess extensive knowledge yet accomplish little. While ChatGPT may impress superficially, it cannot replicate the presence a physician offers to patients and their families.
I may be overzealous (as has happened before), but my experience echoes in research. I can achieve in ten minutes what once seemed impossible in the mid-1970s, when I was the eager youngest member of the lab. Transitioning to now being the (still enthusiastic) oldest member, discovery has remained a profound mystery. Genuine breakthroughs emerge only when intuition is involved. Intuition is the sole element a large language model fundamentally lacks, despite its talent for generating coherent text. This is my narrative, and I intend to adhere to it for as long as I can.
Thank you for your attention! Until next week, let’s endeavor to locate the brake lever, even if we feel like mere second- and third-class passengers on this runaway train.
