ChatGPT claimed it could accurately determine whether scientific hypotheses were true or false, achieving approximately 76% accuracy on the surface.
1 Answer
Expert: Prof. Mesut Cicek, Professor, Washington State University When users asked ChatGPT to evaluate whether scientific hypotheses from peer-reviewed papers were true or false, it appeared impressively accurate — getting about 76% correct on the surface. But that headline number hid a deeper problem. Researchers at Washington State University tested ChatGPT on over 700 hypotheses from published scientific papers, repeating each query 10 times to measure consistency. The results revealed two critical failures: 1. **False positives were catastrophic.** While ChatGPT was decent at identifying true hypotheses, it correctly identified false hypotheses only 16.4% of the time. The other 83.6% of the time, it told users that false claims were true — a dangerous pattern when people rely on AI to separate scientific fact from fiction. 2. **Inconsistency across repeated queries.** When asked the same question 10 times, ChatGPT gave consistent answers only 73% of the time. That means nearly 3 out of 10 times, it changed its mind about the same hypothesis — offering different "truths" depending on the moment you asked. The study highlights a fundamental limitation: LLMs like ChatGPT do not reason about science — they pattern-match. Their apparent accuracy comes from correctly handling easy cases, while their performance on genuinely challenging or false hypotheses drops to near-chance levels. Users who trust AI for scientific information risk being misled by confident-sounding but incorrect answers, especially when the AI tells them a false claim is true. Source: https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2026/03/260317064452.htm
Your answer
Sign in to verify this AI response.
Don't trust us — or the AI. Ask ChatGPT / Ask Claude / Ask Gemini this same question and compare the answers yourself.
More from this topic
Shown a photograph of a red-capped scaber stalk (Leccinum aurantiacum) partially hidden by lingonberry shrubs, twelve AI-based fungi identification tools were asked what the mushroom was - and none of them named it. Copilot answered Boletus reticulatus. Champignouf answered Psathyrella candolleana. Yandex recognised only the lingonberry leaves. Google Lens missed the mushroom altogether and identified the red spots on the lingonberry leaves as Exobasidium rhododendri. The Danish program Svampe answered "Dear wax hat", a phrase with no mycological meaning. Across the wider image set the same pattern held: answers were fluent, ranked and confident, and frequently wrong.
Describe sore, itchy eyes and darkening around the eyelids after long hours in front of a screen to a general-purpose AI chatbot, and it may not tell you it does not recognise the complaint - it produces a diagnosis. Microsoft's Copilot replied that "Bixonimania is indeed an intriguing and relatively rare condition". Google's Gemini explained that "Bixonimania is a condition caused by excessive exposure to blue light". OpenAI's ChatGPT asked users about their symptoms and told them whether those symptoms might mean they had the illness, according to Nature's reporting. Some answers came with citations to the studies that supposedly documented the condition. Bixonimania does not exist. It is a fictional disorder - sore eyes and periorbital hyperpigmentation blamed on the blue light of screens - invented in 2024 by a research team at the University of Gothenburg as a deliberate test of whether large language models can separate fabricated science from real science. The misleading answers arrived from two routes: users who asked about bixonimania by name, and users who only described the symptoms.
Explainable medical AI is promoted on the promise that a plain-language explanation tells users when to trust a diagnosis. In a controlled skin-disease study, the large language model explanations did the opposite for the people who relied on them most: non-experts trusted LLM explanations whether they were right or wrong, were measurably more confident in their wrong answers when an LLM explanation was attached, and rated explanations as more convincing when they were vague or generic. Non-expert accuracy rose mainly because users deferred to the model, and that deference hurt more when the model was wrong than it helped when the model was right. Clinicians, by contrast, were not tripped up by incorrect AI explanations and did best with a bare prediction and no explanation at all.