Can I help you with that?

I think it is wonderful that My Heritage (and others who extract annual subscriptions from family history researchers) seek new and exciting uses of information technology to reveal previously undiscovered insights that will justify the expense. But the sad reality is that occasionally the cutting edge of technology can leave scars.

Today I received another exciting revelation of a "new" Theory of Family Relativity. Sadly, its chain of reasoning depends upon the same invalid assumption (that my great-grandmother who migrated to Australia in 1881 was recorded in the UK 1891 Census, presented with 27% confidence) as the previous effort. Feeling that it would be unfair to damn a whole program on the basis of two tiny misteps (well technically, the same misstep twice), I resolved to review all twelve offerings.

Only three of the other ten "theories" included that same logical break (but one of those did offer three internal options, all of which fell at the same obstacle). That is, 41% of the output of this program (in my case) is invalidated by exactly the same flawed reasoning.

Five other theories each relied upon a match for Jane in an earlier census (although not a correct match) to bridge back to a parent who was apparently buried in the United States (although he definitely died in Australia). For those keeping score, that leaves two "theories" (16%) that match connections that I had already made through old-fashioned document analysis.

No doubt the experience of others will differ. I felt terribly guilty about having not drawn these shortcomings to the attention of My Heritage when the first message arrived; in order to save them the time, expense and embarassment of continuing to rely upon false reasoning.

… simply ignore any theory that you consider incorrect.¹

Even in My Heritage does not care (although "perhaps" their view will change), I still feel that the blame for this mess rests with me. If I had uploaded a more comprehensive tree, their algorithm could select different starting points and hence have the opportunity to make different errors instead of repeating the same nonsense over and over. There is surely a minimum level of data below which the type of extrapolation being undertaken has a very high probability of error. Since I have not met that threshold, I ought not be entitled to these high-level services.

Why not place a warning on each member's tree that is likely to generate erroneous "theories" to give the owner the option to improve the tree to the required minimum or to lose the privilege of receiving (what will almost certainly be) speculative works of family fiction.

As an interim measure I have taken the only path offered and "updated my preferences" to stop the email notifications of each new Theory. I imagine that they will still be generated and attached to my DNA "matches" but at least I can ignore them there and reduce the impact on my blood pressure.

1 https://faq.myheritage.com/en/article/what-if-a-theory-of-family-relativity-is-wrong

A theory is meant to explain something.

My Heritage has just forwarded me the latest instalment in their fantasy series Theory of Family Relativity™. They boast that they have "found a theory that can explain how one of your DNA Matches is related to you" and inform me (in large bold type) that "R.... R..... is your 4th cousin once removed".

Some epistemologists might be puzzled by the idea that a theory can be "found" rather than being painstakingly constructed. But in this case I am happy to accept that finding a theory (sic) is a convenient shorthand for "cobbling together from a pile of old tat that was lying around the office".

The moment that I clicked the link to View Theory, the merest hint of reality crept into the over-weening confidence of the email message. In type distinctly smaller than the statement of the AssertionTheory of Family Relativity itself, I read "This path is based on one community tree, 3 record collections and 5 MyHeritage family trees, with 20% confidence."

As I scrolled across multiple screens, I realised that this was a Tarzan argument -- leaping from tree to tree with naught but a loincloth to hide one's shame. Each of the eight transitions depends upon the auxiliary hypothesis "so long as these two persona actually represent the same unique individual".

To be fair, My Heritage does not try to hide this essential feature of their case. At each change of source, they have assigned a percentage probability (although they might prefer a more positive term, like confidence or even certainty). Those probabilities range from 92% (that my grandmother in my tree is the same person as someone with identical name and vital dates in another tree) to 20% that R.... R...'s grandfather was reported in the 1891 Census with a different surname, preferred given name and date of birth to those by which he was apparently known to his family.

The complete set of probabilities upon which the chain of the argument depends is {92%, 27%, 27%, 37%, 27%, 100%, 25%, 20%}. I will freely admit that it has been many years since I studied compounding probabilities but I am fairly certain that simply taking the smallest value in the set and assigning that to the complete chain is not how we did it. But that is the only way that I can see by which they could have arrived at the value they quote viz "with 20% confidence".

I did think that a more realistic estimate of P(IF a AND b AND c) might be P(a)*P(b)*P(c); but if the top of the page had read "with 0.0335% confidence" perhaps not everyone would read on.

But set aside the mathematical pedantry, and let's examine the actual genealogical evidence that has been assembled. I am happy to accept that my grandmother has been correctly identified in the second tree, so we shall move on to the next leap - into the 1891 UK Census. I am actually surprised that the quoted proability is as high as 27% given that there were hundreds, perhaps thousands, of young women of Welsh-heritage called Jane Davies. Just why this "theory" should choose one called Sarah Jane as its "match" is somewhat puzzling.

But that point is moot because the probability of Nan who arrived in Queensland aboard the SS Corona in 1884 later being recorded living in England in 1891 is actually nil (or a bit less). Since the smallest probability of any individual step in the argument is now zero, the confidence that one can have in the theory as a whole, even by My Heritage's idiosyncratic algorithm, is ZERO.

The revelation that Tarzan's grip on the vine failed at just the second swing took away all my enthusiam for revealing any subsequent nonsense bundled in the Theory.

I imagine that R... R... has come to the same conclusion as he begins to explore the theory from his end. I do hope that he does not waste too much time because there is nothing for him on this side.

Genetic Genealogy is different

It has been more than a year since I received notification of the results of my Autosomal-DNA (Family Finder) test. In all that time, I have not really engaged with the data it provides. I have carried out all the mechanical tasks - provided lists of family surnames and places, downloaded the raw data file, created a direct line GEDCOM, and uploaded all these to the appropriate comparison sites.

But I have never really set out to find what I can learn from this rich new source. At first, there were other pressing tasks that needed to be cleared away before I could devote the time that this new area of investigation demands. Then more and more activities were assigned a higher priority than a study of my DNA. All the while, the number of suggestions for further investigation grew and grew. Finally, I have had to admit that I have been avoiding the task. What was it that I was hiding from?

I am sure that I not concerned by what I might find; the block is far more deep-seated than that. When I investigate a branch of my family, I am seeking great, great ... grandparents but this new tool offers me nothing but cousins. Instead of ancestors, it presents me with potential research collaborators. When the bulk of my research involves people who are (let's be blunt) dead and unthreatening, the promise (or threat) of genetic genealogy is lots of contacts who are very much alive and may want to "share" or even "catch up".

I have failed to find a school report that explicitly stated "Robert does not play well with others" but it would have been a fair description of my loner behaviour. Traditional genealogy provides a perfect match for my character flaws.

When an acquaintance asks mockingly "Are you one of those people still at your desk as late evening turns to early morning with no company other than your database, piles of old paper and half a mug of cold coffee?", I can only emulate Agent 86 in my response.

I understand that family research can be enriched by selective collaboration. I am happy to help others with their work. I enjoy giving assistance and believe that I am quite good at it. But there is a world of difference between offering advice to others and having them "help me".

The mathematics is inexorable. My 2xgreat grandfather will have (at least) several hundred descendants and some dozens of them are probably investigating details of his life. But in a document-based world, they are each working in their own bubbles making egregious errors or astonishing breakthroughs that have no impact on my work. I am free to retain complete control over what I do and what I uncover (or not). Like a toddler placing pudgy hands over his eyes, I could declare "You cannot see me."

But genetic genealogy changes all that. I have invited the people that I have been ignoring into my inbox. The game has changed and I need to find ways to deal with that. I must make time to really look into all those possible connections. Soon.

What if there is another bossy, opinionated control-freak out there with fixed ideas on how we should research our family tree? Do you think that sort of thing could be driven by factors inherited from a shared ancestor?

Love a sunburnt country?

It is a sad but inevitable fact that in a nation of immigrants, there will be some of us who are simply not genetically-predisposed to thrive in this wide brown land. When the head gardener sets me the task of arranging pot plants by their tolerance of heat and light, I always leave a space between dappled sunlight and full shade. I know my place.

Each summer in the 1950s, as my playmates progressed through the various shades of tanning that were assumed to signify glowing good health, I alternated between cooked crab cerise and peeled prawn pink. It is amazing how quickly a child can learn to ignore the question “Why are you so white?” Sometimes a helpful friend would offer the explanation. “He can’t help it. His father came from Scotland”.

In fact he was wrong on two grounds. Dad was born in Northern Ireland, although the distinction is probably moot in this context. More significant is that my father displayed the phenotype combination known as black Irish (often incorrectly attributed to the impact of the  Spanish Armada). His hair and beard were jet, eyes dark, and the usual description of his complexion was swarthy.

My Belfast-born father had no trouble passing as a man of Mediterranean or even Middle Eastern heritage. It clearly ran in the family, because his Uncle Bill was much in demand when came time for first footing.

So I cannot blame my Celtic forebears. Which leaves the Germans to bear the responsibility for my integumentary mismatch. A photograph of my mother in her mid-teens with a thick blonde plait wound around her head above piercing blue eyes could have been the archetypal image of young Aryan womanhood. It seems that I have inherited many of the ancient north European adaptations to low light conditions for which I have no need. Thanks Mum.

I feel no shame in this ancestor-blaming, because of the certainty that in generations to come I will be subject to exactly the same. Fortunately, none of my children have been irredeemably freckled. The toddler much admired  for delicate copper ringlets falling across a forehead like the finest semi-translucent alabaster now sports a tangled mass of red curls flowing down to a spectacular full beard without any apparent psychological damage. But lurking in their genome is that 4% contribution from our Neanderthal forebears, ready to be passed on. I know that all of my descendants will need to be well acquainted with the notion of SPF.

Despite all this, I do have a special place in the Australian landscape. I love the experience of standing in a gully deep within a tropical rainforest.  Let the Blue Quandong and the Turpentine Tree soar upwards and jostle for the sunlight if they must, the ferns and I are perfectly happy down here where it is cool and moist and Shady!