I have spent my career believing that innovation is the engine that expands scientific knowledge and moves us closer to improving the health and wellness of humanity. So when I read the main points raised in the lawsuit filed against Oura over its sleep claims, I felt the necessity to explain the science supporting not only Oura but the broader consumer sleep wearable field — to clarify what these devices are, how they measure what they claim to measure, and how the sleep field is seeing consumer wearable tech, with the hope that this gives our users a better understanding of where we stand.

But first, let’s be clear about one thing: legal claims are not science. Any claim — whether it comes from a company, a law firm, or a scientist — deserves the same scrutiny. With data. With peer review. With critical thinking. That is the standard I have held for every device, every paper, and every claim of my own for my entire career, and it is the standard I intend to apply here. I felt the need to speak, as a scientist who helped build the evidence this entire field now stands on. 

I am fundamentally a researcher — a neuroscientist who spent over 20 years studying sleep and its underlying processes. Long before I joined Oura, I conducted the first independent performance evaluation of the original ring as an academic scientist with no commercial stake in the outcome. My conclusion, in writing, at the time, was this: multisensor sleep trackers, such as the Oura Ring, have the potential to detect outcomes beyond binary sleep-wake by drawing on sources of information beyond motion alone. That was my honest scientific read then, and the evidence has only strengthened since. Years later, I joined the company itself — closing the loop from independent evaluator to someone driving science and building the technology from the inside. But let me give some context, because context is exactly what’s missing from that complaint.

I was an early believer in the power of wearable sleep technology. In 2014 I submitted one of the first papers comparing the Jawbone UP against gold-standard polysomnography (PSG) — because I believed a wearable could be a real scientific instrument, not a gadget, capable of expanding how we study sleep, especially in real-world conditions. The field was skeptical, which really surprised me at the time. But it was the line back then: consumer products had no place in research or clinical science. 

And it made little sense to me. We had followed the rules of science to the letter: compare the device against the reference standard, report exactly how it performed, nothing more and nothing less. If anything, I believed the responsibility ran the other way: it was on us as scientists to evaluate any technology or method with the potential to move the field forward, not to wave it away because it did not come out of a hospital lab.

I never accepted that line. Scientific debate is healthy, and there will always be contrasting voices — on this topic as on every topic. But debate is not the same as dogma, and dogma is not the same as evidence. So others and I kept building evidence, year after year, study after study, for why consumer wearables deserved a seat at the table. We were right. Today, many of the most respected sleep scientists in the world use consumer wearables routinely in clinical and research studies. That is not a marketing claim. That is a fact you can verify in the peer-reviewed literature. 

And the pace is only accelerating. I personally tracked over 200 published studies using Oura Ring alone — not just for sleep, but for women’s health, mental health, and beyond. For example, sleep stages are proving to carry real signal: independent researchers found that active inflammation in inflammatory bowel disease patients showed up as reduced REM sleep and increased light sleep; and within-night sleep-stage variability as the earliest marker of an oncoming hypomanic episode in bipolar disorder, ahead of every other measure tracked.

Let me be clear: this is not blind cheerleading. None of this means consumer devices are perfect. I am never fully satisfied. I look, every day, for ways to improve performance, expand what we can measure, and close the gap with clinical tools further. That restlessness is exactly what good science demands. But ”not perfect” and ”a mere guess dressed up as science,” as the recent lawsuit puts it, are two very different things, and the lawsuit is simply wrong to dismiss the Oura Ring’s sleep staging as a mere “coin flip.”

This isn’t just me saying it. The field is actively self-correcting, not defensive about its limitations, and a body of work from independent scientists, alongside position statements from the field’s own professional organizations, reinforces the same conclusion: consumer wearables are not diagnostic replacements for PSG, but they are valuable.

Which is why it is genuinely sad — not offensive, sad — to still see this level of misunderstanding of sleep wearable technology, toward a technology that has already proven, repeatedly, that it can advance our understanding of sleep and human physiology, and that it can generate knowledge we simply did not have before.

I contributed to set standards including those the field now largely uses to evaluate these devices — because before you can argue whether a number is good or bad, you need an agreed, rigorous way of producing it. That work does not make headlines, but it is the foundation everything else in this assertion rests on. And the question I get asked most often — by researchers, clinicians, and friends and family alike — is simple: ”Can I trust these devices?” My answer has become clearer and clearer over time, as the evidence has accumulated: I believe these devices have reached a real degree of maturity across the main data points they measure: sleep, cardiorespiratory data, and activity data. Even the first generation of these devices performed similarly to actigraphy: the tool sleep science has relied on for over 40 years to distinguish wake from sleep. And most modern wearables go far beyond that.

Here is the part that I think gets lost. A lot of the resistance to these devices has nothing to do with their actual performance. It has to do with the fact that sleep has traditionally been defined and scored based on EEG — brain activity. What people forget is this: sleep is not only EEG, and EEG is not a direct measure of sleep either. It is one window into it. 

And even setting that aside, the science is clear that during sleep there is a tight coupling between central and autonomic nervous system activity. The stage transitions that EEG detects in the brain are accompanied by corresponding, measurable changes in autonomic physiology. Those autonomic signals like heart rate and its variability, alongside movement and temperature, are among the main signals wearables use to infer stage. 

Oura, for example, uses exactly this: heart rate, heart rate variability reflecting autonomic functioning, respiratory rate, movement from the accelerometer, and skin temperature. This is not a guess dressed up as science. It is physiology — just measured through different sensors than EEG uses, not a lesser one. If you are interested in learning more about how PSG and OURA differ, read this. 

What’s also important to note: The “gold standard” of sleep measurement, PSG, is scored manually by human experts into Wake, N1, N2, N3, and REM stages. When two trained experts score the exact same overnight record, they typically agree only around 83% of the time. Even if you score the same night yourself, twice, a few days apart, you will not get 100% agreement with your own earlier scoring.

I am a scientist first, an Oura employee second. I have devoted my career to this field, published in it, defended it under criticism, and I have been recognized as one of the most active and influential voices in wearable sleep science precisely because I do not treat evidence as optional. So let me be direct: yes, wearable consumer devices can measure sleep and can give people genuinely useful information about their health. That is not spin. That is where the science stands today, and I intend to keep pushing the boundary of what these devices can do  because that has always been the point.

And I know what comes next, because it always does: what about conflict of interest? Here is my answer. Joining Oura did not change how I do science. I disclose my affiliation everywhere — every paper, every talk, every panel. Academia and industry should collaborate, more and more, exactly as they increasingly do today — that is how evidence gets built at the pace and scale this field needs. What matters is not whether a scientist has an affiliation. It is whether it’s disclosed and the work still holds. Transparency, not the mere existence of a conflict, is what protects the science. I value that over comfort, always.

Here is what I want to leave you with. Over the past decade, these devices have matured, and their performance has kept improving, year over year, generation over generation. That is not a field standing still, and it is not a field in crisis. It is science doing exactly what it is supposed to do: getting better. We have come too far to stop now, and I intend to keep pushing it forward.

A brief highlight of my contribution to the scientific field of consumer wearable sleep technology, for anyone who wants to verify it directly — grounded in studies I authored or co-authored, not general field citations: