He notes that Sumner was "generous" to avoid naming particular offenders in this study. But Sumner did share with me some of the less egregious examples by email. In one case, a journal article read: "This observational study found significant associations between use of antidepressant drugs and adverse outcomes in people aged 65 and older with depression." The press release went on to read: "New antidepressants increase risks for elderly." There are of course many reasons why taking antidepressants would be associated with worse outcomes. For example, people with worse symptoms to begin with are more likely to take antidepressants.

"It is very common for this type of thing to happen," said Sumner, "probably partly because the causal phrases are shorter and just sound better. There may be no intention to change the meaning."

There is also, almost always, an implied causal relationship when reporting on a correlation. Every time we note a correlation in anything we publish on this site, at least one of our fair commenters will jump to point out that correlation is not causation. That comment may as well just auto-populate on any article that involves science. Which is fine—even though we're deliberate in not mistaking the relationships for causal—because why even report on a correlation if you don't mean to imply in some way that there is a chance there could be causation?

I asked Sumner how he felt about the press release for his study, because I thought that would be kind of funny.

"We were happy with our press release," he said. "It seemed to stick closely to the article and not claim causal relationships, for example, where we had not."

Appropriately reported scientific claims are a necessary but not sufficient condition in cultivating informed health consumers, but misleading claims are sufficient to do harm. Since many such claims originate within universities, Sumner writes, the scientific community has the ability to improve this situation. But the problem is bigger than a lack of communication between publicists and scientists. The blame for all of this exaggeration is most accurately traced back, according to the researchers, to an "increasing culture of university competition and self-promotion, interacting with the increasing pressures on journalists to do more with less time.”

In his ivory tower, in his ivory cap and gown, the academic removes his ivory spectacles just long enough to shake his head at the journalists who are trying to understand his research. The headlines and tweets are wretched misappropriations. Wretched! The ink-stained journalists shake their ink-stained heads in time at the detached academics, at the irrelevance of work written in jargon behind giant paywalls where it will be read by not more than five to seven people, including the nuclear families of the researchers. The families members who, when the subject of the latest journal article comes up at dinner, politely excuse themselves.

But the divide is narrowing every day.

"Our findings may seem like bad news, but we prefer to view them positively," Sumner and colleagues conclude. "If the majority of exaggeration occurs within academic establishments, then the academic community has the opportunity to make an important difference to the quality of biomedical and health-related news."