Timothy Caulfield is a Canada Research Chair in Health Law and Policy, but he’s better known for busting science and health myths (as well as, in his last book on celebrity wellness pushers, Gwyneth Paltrow’s chops). His latest book, Relax, Dammit!, is a hugely delightful dissection of the many, many decisions we make each day—around food, sex, coffee and kids—so they become a little less scary and a lot more sane. Here, he debunks COVID conspiracy theories, makes the case for skydiving and risks serious dental hate mail.
I’ve never seen anything—anything—like this. We knew it was going to be bad, but even as someone who has watched this era of misinformation intensify, I didn’t think it was going to be quite this terrible.
I think there’s scientific uncertainty, and that invites people to look to other sources of information. Fear and anxiety are part of it. Another element I perhaps underestimated is the ideological polarization that we’re seeing: People look for solutions and answers that fit with their pre-existing beliefs or even their hopes.
Twenty-eight percent of Americans believe a conspiracy theory that Bill Gates started the pandemic so he could force vaccination on people, so he can implant microchips [in]. More practically, who could have guessed that wearing a mask—a benign intervention that protects others—would be an ideological flag. Another one I think is interesting is the immune-boosting myth.
That’s right. Homeopathy, hot yoga, acupuncture—none of it is going to boost your immune system. Not even Tom Brady.
Shaming people doesn’t work. You have to normalize it. I critique pop culture all the time, but one of the constructive roles that pop culture can play in our lives is normalizing things. You see that with sexual orientation; we saw it during the HIV crisis.
I wrote this book before the pandemic, before the death count, before the economic crisis. But I talk in the book about those basic things that keep us healthy: not smoking, exercising, sleeping. That same philosophy applies to the pandemic. We know the general steps we need to take: wearing a mask, physical distancing, being responsible when you have symptoms. Despite all the noise and anxiety produced by the pandemic, I think we can take that message to heart.
Bad, good, bad. I have a caveat throughout the book: It’s hard to study a lot of these things well, but there’s a body of evidence that tells us looking at our phones can be really anxiety-provoking. And research emerged during COVID that says social media doomscrolling can have a negative impact on your psyche. What a terrible way to start your day! Coffee was considered an evil for a long time, but the evidence is starting to shift—it’s probably fine and maybe even good for you. So go ahead and drink it.
One reason is the availability bias: We remember dramatic events. We’re more likely to remember that headline of someone dying [from] skydiving and assess that risk as being higher. And I think, with children, it’s just this emotional response to horrible events, to headlines about predators and murders, even though the chance of that happening is so remote that you could say it’s statistically impossible. We’re wired this way: We have a negativity bias. That makes sense from an evolutionary perspective, right? You’re going to remember the stuff that’s dangerous. Unfortunately, in the modern world, that biological wiring can backfire.
There’s a comfort level for parents and a maturity level for kids, but I think, in general, if there’s a reasonably safe route, the default should be to let them walk. There are so many benefits—exercise, socialization, independence—that come with walking to school.
It’s up there. One of my favourites is the idea that ranting is cathartic—that you can’t leave things bottled up. It has these long historical roots: religious confession; and the Freudian idea that if we keep things inside, it’ll have an adverse impact on our psyche and maybe even physically. There’s no good evidence to support that, and there’s never been good evidence to support that. It’s like throwing gasoline on the fire. But it endures.
Toilet seats seem like horribly dangerous things to sit on, but that’s not what the evidence says. You can sit, and your thighs will thank you.
If you were thirsty, the water is fine, but there’s no magic to how much you need to drink. I don’t want to get dental hate mail, but given that flossing is a truism of dental health, it’s amazing how uncertain the evidence actually is. Brushing your teeth is primarily a fluoride-delivery mechanism, so the best time to brush is at night, when the fluoride can set in. Phone: No, no, no, no. And it’s not just the light—it’s a portal to anxiety. It’s the worst. That’s a place where I really do try to walk the talk.
If you are a morning person, great. If you’re not, don’t worry about it.
Bad idea. They’re biologically not wired that way.
If that’s a strategy you feel comfortable with and it’s going to help you maintain your weight, go for it.
Bad idea! If you want to have a fancy raw cheese, it’s probably fine to do it once, but globally, at the level of public health, raw milk is not a good idea.
That can, in fact, be a good idea, because it forces you to not lose time between those meetings, which can be very unproductive.
If a meeting doesn’t have a point or an end time, then yes.
If you’re feeling tired and have something important to do later in the day, a nap is okay. But it’s not a great long-term sleep strategy.
I have one and I love it. It’s not a magical solution.
Yes. I don’t care what it is. If it gets you to move, do it.
Probably not a good idea. You don’t get any prizes for bingeing it fastest, and you’ll enjoy it more if you spread it out.
Yes, yes, yes.
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