Returning to the "trained observer" question, I want to see if I can decode some of that without it turning into an unreadable screed.
The rhetoric, "Joe saw something he couldn't identify, and Joe is a trained observer," is obviously meant to combat the notion that ordinary people aren't expected to be able to identify or explain everything they see. That to me is a question of skill. The sidecar rhetoric, "Joe saw something he couldn't explain, and Joe is trustworthy because he holds a prominent position," is obviously meant to combat the notion that some UFO claims are patently dishonest (e.g., Billy Meier). That to me is a question of honestly. Both arguments are flawed for a number of different reasons.
When we say, "There's no such thing as a 'trained observer,'" we've either said too much or not enough. What we really mean is, "The 'trained observer' prototype you've conjured up does not actually exist." It doesn't exist for a number of reasons that have been touched upon with probably more friendly fire than is deserved.
The rebuttal is complicated by the fact that trained observation does exist, albeit with rules. A doctor is trained to recognize the signs of a heart attack, a conclusion that might escape a lay person. An auto mechanic is trained to make observations leading to a conclusion of a blown head gasket, again something that a lay person might not understand. Pilots are encouraged to identify other airplanes in the sky, and I received a bit of training in that when I was studying to be a pilot. The two factors we identified in all those cases is that reliable observations are nominal, and that they are limited to affirmative, known phenomena.
By "nominal" I mean that a pilot might be taught to differentiate a Boeing 777 from an Airbus A321 under ordinary, expected circumstances. And with practice, he might become adept at it. A police officer might be taught to recognize the canonical symptoms of cannabis intoxication, which would apply only under canonical conditions. When conditions change, that person's ability to draw reliable conclusions about ordinary, trained-on phenomena is provably compromised. The UFO rhetoric relies on the presumption that someone trained to observe certain known things will always be able to identify those certain known things in all circumstances, and that if such an identification fails then the actual nature of the phenomenon must be extraordinary in some respect that the world is bound to acknowledge.
By limitation to "affirmative known phenomena," I mean that there is no such thing as a general trained observer. A police officer taught to inspect suspects for signs of intoxication does not automatically also acquire the skill to identify satanic cult behavior. (Yes, that was once unironically claimed by law enforcement.) A pilot taught to recognize types of aircraft he might encounter while flying does not automatically acquire the skill to infer the properties of objects he does not recognize in the sky. The data do not show that people trained to observe one thing automatically become better at observing things they haven't been trained to observe. The UFO rhetoric relies on presumptions to the contrary and that certain people are better than others at observing everything by virtue of training.
Specifically, interpretations of observations that give rise to beliefs about size, distance, and velocity of observed phenomena are necessarily connected to knowing what the object is. Beyond a certain distance—and especially in the sky—estimates of size and distance are overwhelmingly informed by knowledge of the object's identity. When the identity is uncertain, assumption steps in (and is almost always wrong). There is no way to train that away—it is basic human nature. The UFO rhetoric relies on the presumption that all such estimates should be taken at face value because a "trained observer" is presumed not to be susceptible to such optical shortcomings; facially improbable claims should be resolved in favor of taking the witness at his word.
It's incidentally amusing to see how quickly the claims of a privileged observer class are discarded. On the authority of his authors, Scorpion assures us that, yes, there exists a class of people who can observe things more reliably than others. Scorpion simultaneously admits that he is not a member of this class, yet he should be considered just as adept as those who are. Everyone thinks he's immune to ordinary human limitations when his own claims are questioned.
Here's probably the best place to bring up the fact that no one can be trained to recognize alien spacecraft because we have no specimens to train on. The ability to falsify certain possibilities is essential to being able to reliably identify anything. That indicates that the ability to falsify the alien-spaceship explanation is essential. In my view, this really just comes down to pointing out that the UFO claims are an argument from silence. The set of unexplained sightings would hypothetically include sightings of ordinary objects under circumstances that preclude identification and sightings of alien spacecraft that we have no prior experience with. Since there is no evidentiary method for differentiating these, the problem is effectively intractable.
Turning to the question of reliability, the UFO rhetoric wants to paint the picture in stark colors. If someone is presumed by virtue of his role in society or his general demeanor to be trustworthy, then that person is somehow presumed to be immune from ordinary biases and ordinary error. When we raise the question that someone might be mistaken or fooled by circumstances in a very ordinary way, the response is too often the ad hominem claim that we're uncharitably questioning a person's motives. The UFO rhetoric wants us to consider the objective observation and the subjective interpretation as an indivisible parcel. But we can accept that a person legitimately saw something that's extraordinary on its face without necessarily buying into the associated speculation and interpretation of what it might have been.
But then we have to question the major premise of the argument as well, which is that certain classes of people as defined by their occupations or roles are generally more trustworthy than others. In the Greer-Leslie taxonomy, this often includes politician and police officers—people not generally regarded for their honesty (at least in the United States). The Greer-Leslie taxonomy also historically included people who belong or claimed to belong to those virtuous groups, but who then behaved in a way best explained by a desire for notoriety. The exceptions prove the rule, and we place less faith in such categorical premises.
And even when you come down to people like fighter pilots and other military officers, a certain amount of excitement and embellishment is expected from them too. As investigators, we need to pierce that veneer. But embellishment is endemic to human nature. We can allow a fighter pilot some bravado and storytelling leeway without characterizing him as a scoundrel.
But as we see in the David Grusch case, the insidious effect of the "virtuous and trained observer" claim is to shift the discussion away from whether there's any evidence for the proffered hypothesis to squishier arguments such as who has skill and who is trustworthy. Grusch has no evidence, and I think he knows it. But he and the authors who rely on him want to distract from that by saying what a good, reliable guy Grusch is. The "trained observer" myth is along those same lines. It's ad hominem advocacy stepping in for a lack of testable evidence. When we try to bring the question back to one of testable evidence, the rebuttal is predictably ad hominem—we're rejecting the claims of obviously skilled and obviously trustworthy people, and shame on us for doing so.
