The other day, I happened to pick up one of those typical horse magazines again for the first time in ages. You know the kind – with cover titles like “Light-footed into Spring”
or “How to Tell if Your Horse is a Soulmate.”
Somewhere around page 17, I came across this sentence:
“Our method is based on the latest evidence-based research.”
Sounds great. Serious. Scientific.
Still, I decided to double-check what evidence actually means.
Three hours later, I had 17 tabs open, was deeply lost in a Wikipedia rabbit hole, and tried to wrap my head around how one single word can apparently mean two entirely opposite things – and why scientists and philosophers mostly seem to deal with this fact by avoiding eye contact.
It’s a strange story with this word evidence.
So I pulled together some definitions and explanations from the web for you:
- “In philosophy, evidence refers to what is indubitably recognizable by observation or compelling reasoning, or the immediate insight thus achieved. Certainty gained through evidence is felt as self-evident and requires no further proof. [...] The adjective 'evident' is also used in general contexts to mean 'obvious.'”
- “Derived from the English evidence, a different, almost opposite meaning has recently become established: evidence as empirical proof in the sciences.”
- “Evidence is scientific proof obtained from well-designed, high-quality studies that are carefully structured to answer specific questions.”
So we’re dealing with two fundamentally different perspectives:
1. The philosophical perspective, which essentially says:
“Evidence is what is so obviously true that you either see it immediately – or are forced to admit it after a long, painful fight with your own arguments and beliefs.”
2. The scientific perspective, which sounds more like:
“Evidence is what, after an absurdly long and complicated sequence of experiments, statistics, and peer reviews, is 95% likely to not be complete nonsense.”
Representatives of these two schools of thought tend to get along about as well as a Zen monk and an accountant doing their taxes together.
Anecdotal – but not accidental
The term anecdotal evidence is often used dismissively – and it refers not only to single case reports but also to experiences or results that occur outside of controlled environments.
In other words: real life.
When we observe many horses – of different breeds, ages, and sexes, with all kinds of medical histories, conditions, and symptoms, living on various grounds in all sorts of environments – then we’re dealing with an uncontrolled, uncontrollable situation commonly known as reality.
If, in the midst of this chaos, we find a few basic principles – foundational prerequisites, really – that allow all of these vastly different horses to become healthy, physically and mentally stable, capable riding horses, then that kind of evidence goes far beyond a single case or a lucky coincidence. And if at least 80% of these horses show lasting improvement without requiring further therapy, then the causal link is... let’s just say it: obvious.
My workplace, for many years now, has been exactly this kind of uncontrollable situation – and I have an abundance of “anecdotal evidence”.
Strikingly, the results are surprisingly repeatable – maybe despite, or maybe because of, the lack of control.
The opposite of my approach would be a perfectly designed scientific study involving 100 similar horses with highly similar symptoms. The study would aim to reduce those symptoms – and might identify 20 promising methods. But if, two weeks after the study ends, 80% of the horses relapse, then all we’ve found are 20 ways to temporarily suppress symptoms.
At best, we would have learned how these 20 approaches behave under laboratory conditions – but not how to actually help horses in their real-world lives.
How scientific is science, really?
The relevance of scientific findings depends heavily on the questions being asked, how "normal" is defined, and which compromises are made for the sake of design and feasibility.
Simplification is necessary – but it often leads to detachment from reality.
So we’re allowed to – and should – question the evidence from scientific studies just as much as we question our own experiences and the explanations we create.
If you study 100 nearly identical horses with similar pathologies and identify 10 different factors that might be doing harm, you still won’t know what actually helps.
But if 100 completely different horses, with all sorts of individual combinations of issues, respond in similar and lasting ways to just a handful of consistent principles – then chances are, we’ve found something useful.
The Time Factor
If we wait for scientific proof from well-conducted, high-quality, carefully structured studies, countless horses will have long since made their final journey to the slaughterhouse before an officially approved and helpful concept becomes available.
So for these horses, another decision seems far more reasonable:
Try the obvious.
And follow the motto of the Bremen Town Musicians:
“Come, friends, something better than death we’ll find anywhere!”
#nowitchcraft #nowizardry
