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Shirley Ghostman and me

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From time to time I get contacted by TV shows wanting a skeptic to spar against a psychic. This time a producer from Tiger Aspect wanted me for a show they were doing on psychics for BBC2. John Pocock, the producer went through all the questions that I’ve come to expect about the show – how to do testing, what they should look out for, ways to stop cheating and all that. He asked me if I wanted to appear on the show, and never one to say “no”, I agreed. John said that he would work on the concept over the weekend and send me details on Monday.

When John sent me the details, it looked like a reasonably sensible test. Here is the relevant portion of John’s email to me:

“Tomorrow, for our purposes we would like to start with an initial test that is quite straightforward, although this will lead to a more comprehensive one in the new year. The test involves you writing down 5 statements about yourself that are not on your website and that you have not mentioned to me, we will then place these in a sealed envelope which we will ask you to keep with at all times.

“The psychic claims he will be able to ‘read’ the exact information you have written down by his medium-ship and clairvoyance. We have made it clear that for his reading to be deemed successful he will have to get all 5 facts correct. We have tried to minimize the element of interpretation so the statements will only be seen by you and his answers must match your statements exactly. There will be time after the test for you to question him further if necessary.

“The psychic has not been told whom he is to be tested by and the production crew have not been told your name (it is only myself and the producer who are aware of your booking).”

I thought very carefully about this – I know it’s important not to choose obvious things, or things that are true about myself, but are also true for large numbers of other people, so I selected five things about myself, printed them, then sealed the paper, folded in half, inside an opaque bubble-wrap envelope. The bubble wrap inside made the light scatter, so when I held the envelope up to the light, I couldn’t even see the paper inside, let alone the writing. I was satisfied that my five facts were secure.

On the Tuesday, I went to the location they had selected – University College London, and things began as usual for TV. I waited. While I was being minded by a nice production assistant, another producer asked me to do a drawing for the reading. This made my internal Robbie the Robot worried: “Danger Will Robinson! Danger!” I know that there are lots of ways to discover the contents of a drawing – the most obvious is that when people are asked to make a drawing at short notice they tend to draw one of a limited range of ideas: a house, a boat, a smiley face or sun, a person or a flower. I therefore decided not to draw any of those. The production assistant was sitting there (although turned away) so I opened my newspaper and rested the bottom half on the table and used the top half to make a shield. This way they wouldn’t be able to get an imprint of what I was drawing on the table, nor could the assistant see me. I checked over my shoulder – I couldn’t see anyone there, or a camera, but I shielded the drawing with my body. After making my drawing, I drew a picture of a house on the newspaper, so that if they were watching my pen, they would see me draw a house. I folded the single piece of paper in half twice, and sealed it in their envelope. I kept both envelopes and the newspaper with me at all times, and no-one from the production team asked to touch them or look at them.

Soon after I had finished my drawing, it was time for my meeting with the psychic. I was taken one of the chemistry labs at UCL, where I waited some more with yet another producer. There was some more phaffing about (TV types love to do that!) and finally I was ushered into the presence of Shirley.

The lab was completely dark, except for a single fluorescent bulb bathing Shirley in a soft glow from the left-hand side of the table. Shirley was sitting at the end of a lab table turned lengthwise wearing a well-made three piece white linen suit with white coiffed hair, his hands crossed in front of him, and an imperious look on his face. I must say that my first impression was that he really looked the part!

I sat on a stool opposite Shirley and the director told me that Shirley and I were to have a discussion and then Shirley would tell me what I had written down and drawn.

The conversation began strangely and then continued in an even more bizarre way. I introduced myself to Shirley and we shook hands. I waited for Shirley to reciprocate, but this was clearly not on Shirley’s agenda. There was an awkward pause while nothing happened, and the director suggested that I tell Shirley why I was there, which I thought was odd because Shirley was supposed to be the psychic – and I thought it was obvious that I was there to participate in a “test” of his powers. Anyway, I began to explain that I ran a club called Skeptics in the Pub and Shirley interrupted with “septics in the pub?” It was at this point that I realised that Shirley was no ordinary psychic. Ordinary psychics are, in my experience, generally nice, pleasant people. They are friendly and polite. Shirley, on the other hand, was difficult, rude and aggressive. I said, “No, Skeptics” and continued with my explanation. Shirley then interrupted me and said that he would “prove the existence of the spirit world to me – either in this world, or the next.” Well, I thought, at least he doesn’t suffer from a lack of confidence. I asked Shirley if he knew about the spirit world, or just believed. Shirley said he knew and believed – because he could see spirits, but not just ordinary spirits mark you, famous ones. Apparently William Shakespeare had been in Shirley’s bedroom the previous night.

Now I was really intrigued – who were Shirley’s regular clients? What sort of person gives credibility to a psychic who claims to see William Shakespeare? This seemed to be stretching credibility, even for psychics! Where did the production company find Shirley? Didn’t they perform even the most basic tests on him themselves to establish his credibility? Nonetheless, Shirley had made a claim, so I felt it was my duty to examine it in the best way I could. “How did you know it was Shakespeare?” I asked. His answer dripped derision – “He told me!” he answered, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. I endeavoured to point out that Shirley had not ever met Shakespeare, so how did he know that this spirit really was Shakespeare, or another spirit just claiming to be Shakespeare. Alas, I didn’t get far in this line of reasoning as I was interrupted by Shirley (this was to become almost the defining feature of the encounter). Shirley interrupted me by asking why I was trying to “undermine” him! Well, I thought, that’s the point of a skeptic on a TV encounter with a psychic!

Shirley looked down his nose at me, and said in a deep and what I took to be mysterious voice, “I know things about you”. I asked what he knew, and Shirley told me about my “shame and fear inside”. I wasn’t feeling shame or fear inside, so I wanted to know why Shirley thought I was. Shirley however had different plans – he wouldn’t talk about it “because of the cameras”; he wanted to protect my dignity from undue exposure on the tele. How thoughtful! This made me think more about the question of who Shirley’s real clients were – was his client list stacked with people who did have deep, dark secrets, so this rather unsubtle cold reading hook would find some purchase? I was in a different position however: I was there to test Shirley, and I knew that I didn’t have a hidden life that warranted “fear and shame”, and since I believed that that Shirley had special insight into me as much as I believed that the Moon is a giant marshmallow, I had no problems asking him for further “insights”.

I pressed Shirley, and despite his great protestations, I managed to get the following story: Apparently, in October I had been to a party, actually Sammy’s christening, where I got drunk and tore a woman’s dress, scratching her with my wedding ring in the process. This story was torn at my great insistence from Shirley “fact” by painful “fact”; at each new revelation Shirley at first coyly refusing to divulge the titbit (in order to spare my blushes) until finally he revealed the item at question. Shirley’s actions clearly demonstrated that he believed my personal shame was being exposed to a national TV audience, with him doing his best to protect me, while I recklessly insisted on the revelation of my own humiliation by the most gifted psychic of the age!

There was just one small problem with the story Shirley revealed: It was false in every detail! And not just a bit wrong, either! Totally wrong. I’ve never been to the christening of a child called “Sammy”, indeed I know of no-one by that name. Furthermore, I didn’t attend any christenings in October. I’ve never ripped a woman’s dress – at a party, christening or elsewhere; and, most tellingly of all, as the attendees of Skeptics in the Pub will attest, I do not drink – my drunkenness thereby being impossible. Shirley refused to accept my denials and greeted my teetotalism claim with a scepticism that would do Martin Gardiner proud – “You would say that, wouldn’t you?” intimating that I had a drinking problem! I suggested that I swear an affidavit to verify my claim, which was greeted with exclamations of “You want to swear on who?”, “Is David your child?” and “Why do you want to swear on a child’s life?” The interview was getting more peculiar by the moment!

But the whole “shame” thing was not as weird as the hypnotism stunt. At three junctures where Shirley and I had our greatest moments of disagreement, Shirley would snap his fingers and command, “Sleep!” and give me an instruction. This first was after I denied belief in the spirit world, Shirley “hypnotised” me such that when I “awoke” I would “see things as they really were”! Needless to say, his attempt at this was as successful as his attempt at divining my inner life, although after one of these episodes I expressed my belief that I thought Shirley would be good in stand-up!

My gentle reader will remember that the Assistant Producer had asked me to produce five facts about myself. They were, with numbers:

1. My first school was Hillsborough Primary School.

2. I buried Sweep the cat in the garden.

3. I am wearing green underpants today.

4. My favourite thing in Debrecen is the big yellow church.

5. My wife and I saw dolphins on our honeymoon.

It will not surprise my reader to learn that Shirley got exactly zero correct – however, you would be wrong! Amazingly, Shirley claimed he had managed to guess four out of the five statements! An impressive result, you’ll agree. Here are Shirley’s six responses:

1. Wine gums

2. Richard

3. Burger

4. Butt plug/anal plug

5. Peyton Park – alas, I can’t remember that this was exactly. It was a place I have never heard of.

6. Condom

In case you can’t work it out for yourself, the one Shirley agreed he didn’t get was number 3 – green underpants/burger. The reason he didn’t get that one was that he confused the lettuce on the burger and green of the underpants, and he was hungry. Shirley was adamant however, despite the producer’s earlier assurance that “his answers must match your statements exactly”, that the other four were direct hits! His explanation of this belief was thus:

1. I liked wine gums when I was at school (he later expanded on this with the suggestion that I was a very fat child at school and was taunted by my school-mates with taunts of “Porky Pig”).

2. Richard is the person who dug Sweep up.

4. (I cannot remember the connection between the big yellow church in Debrecen and a butt plug – I fear it was too horrible to be committed to memory!)

5. I would secretly rather have gone to the place mentioned by Shirley, than seeing dolphins on our honeymoon.

6. My wife and I are planning to have children.

I will leave it to the reader’s own abilities to work out the cogency of Shirley’s reasoning.

Next, we moved onto the drawing. I drew the symbol for pi: “π” with “3.14…” underneath. Shirley assured me that his drawing had been completed the previous night, and if it had been a picture of “π” with “3.14…” underneath then it would have been devastating for my case. But before we could get to the unveiling of the drawings, Shirley and I had a little set-to. Shirley insisted that I show my drawing first. I was equally resolute that Shirley, being the subject of the test, should reveal his effort first. Shirley attempted to resolve the dispute by use of his hypnotism routine. While the envelope was safely under my elbow on the table, Shirley snapped his fingers, and commanded, “Sleep! You will show me your picture when you wake!” Another snap of the fingers, “Wake!” I shook my head slightly, and looked at the envelope, which I picked up, and offered to Shirley, all with a slightly confused look on my face. Shirley had a perplexed expression as he reached out to take the envelope from me, at which point, I flicked the envelope away from Shirley’s outstretched hand, and said “Well that didn’t work, did it?” Eventually we agreed to open our drawings simultaneously.

Shirley’s “drawing” was actually dozens of drawings covering all the most commonly drawn objects – I saw a spade, a heart, a house, “e=mc2” and lots of other items. Alas, pi was absent. After a through search of the page, the best Shirley could come up with was an equation, which contained the square root of “n” as a component. Shirley triumphantly announced that this equation was equal to the value pi! I demurred from the conclusion that Shirley had scored a hit, but Shirley, with increasing vigour and rising anger, amid much table-slapping that he was right and I was wrong, demanded for the director a caption which would show that the equation was equal to pi! I did agree that for one value of “n”, Shirley’s equation was equal to pi, but then for different values of “n” it could be made equal to an infinite number of other numbers!

Our conversation was drawing to a close. In what I can only describe as a misguided attempt to… what? Impress me? Shirley said that Einstein was in the room with us. Shirley said he was attracted by the Bunsen burners. Apparently Einstein had neglected to mention to Shirley that while he was a scientist, he was a theoretical physicist who didn’t use Bunsen burners in his work. This observation appeared to enrage the already emotional and volatile man. Shirley screamed at me this was typical of my pedantic behaviour. Oh well, I suppose that asking for accuracy from a psychic could be described as pedantry!

After Shirley had calmed down somewhat, my parting shot to Shirley was very simple: “You are a terrible psychic”. He did not like that at all. We had a little shouting match when, for the first time (and to my great surprise) Shirley shut up and let me speak uninterrupted. I methodically went through every claim that Shirley had made and explained that all of them were false. Every single one. For someone whose confidence was so high at the beginning that he was going to prove the reality of the spirit world, it was quite a litany. As he looked at me in silence, I saw tears well up in Shirley’s eyes, and his lip start to tremble – I had made Shirley cry. His response was meek, “You like to destroy things, to grind them into dust.” “Of course I don’t,” I said, “but as a skeptic, I must go where the evidence leads me – you are a terrible psychic”.

The denouement was at hand, and it was quite a contrast to what had happened a scant few moments before. It became obvious that Shirley wanted to finish by saying directly to camera, “Yet another skeptic brought to his knees by Shirley Ghostman”. However this was such a blatantly absurd claim, that I turned to my camera and said “No he didn’t!” Shirley wanted, even needed the last word. Again and again he would say his concluding line and every time he did, I reiterated my denial. Shirley appealed to the director, but I simply said that they could do what they liked, but, while I was there, I would continue to express my disagreement. Shirley banged his hand on the table and threatened me, “I’m nearly loosing it!” Alas, it was too late for Shirley to have this insight – he had lost it some time before. Eventually, it became too much for Shirley. I wouldn’t let him have the last word he wanted, and he stormed out like a petulant child. I thought it was a fitting end to our dialogue.

After Shirley had made his dramatic exit, stage right, I turned to the director and said, “Sorry if I ruined you show.” He looked back and said, “Well, you did very well from your point of view.”

At the time, I could not fathom what the intentions of the programme makers were after. Shirley was such an unbelievably bad psychic – and histrionic, a Prima Donna, and an angry and aggressive person that unless their intention was to humiliate Shirley, I couldn’t see that there was any way this exchange would further knowledge into the testing of psychics.

The experience described in this essay represents the most bizarre and surreal experience I have ever had as a skeptic. Thanks, at least for that, Shirley.
Note

I did not take notes during the filming, which occurred on Tuesday 14 December 2004. However, I did make notes of the event that evening, and wrote this essay finishing on Sunday 19 December 2004. The items in quotes are therefore not direct quotes (with the exception of the John Pocock email) and I’m not 100% sure about the sequence of events but this is my best recollection of what happened. I have made every effort to be fair and truthful in this account,
The truth

We now know that Shirley Ghostman is a TV character, played by Marc Wooton. He is the star of “High Spirits with Shirley Ghostman”.

There were five skeptics who were contacted to do the show, in all: Chris French, Wendy Grossman, Tony Youens, Paul Taylor and myself. I met Paul at the filming (he was next after me) but I didn’t find out about the others until the next day.

We were all perplexed about the experience we had been through, which were all very similar. I couldn’t work out what was going on, but Chris thought the whole thing was a spoof – the rest of us disagreed, because why would anyone spoof us – we are skeptics, with a small to nil media exposure.

It was Wendy who found out the truth. Shirley was in reality Marc Wooton, and the show was a spoof.

The thing that annoyed us most was that the production company, Tiger Aspect, didn’t tell us that we were taking part in a spoof show. Their explanation was that they wanted our genuine reactions to Shirley, and if we knew it was an act, then they wouldn’t have got those; which I think is fair enough, however, they didn’t tell us after, either! This made us very suspicious, especially when we learned that Wootan’s previous project was “My New Best Friend” – an exercise in humiliation comedy. We were (justifiably, I think) worried that “Shirley” was just doing a number on us. We had lots of phone calls and emails with the Associate Producer, during which he told us that we weren’t the subject of the show – our purpose was to send Shirley up, but we didn’t believe him!

Chris French’s segment went first, on the second show. He was very relaxed after seeing it, and it put all our minds at rest! Wendy was second, and I was the other skeptic used.

My contribution appeared on the final show, on 19 April 2005. Of course it was heavily edited and featured only my introduction to Shirley, with the William Shakespeare bit; the whole drawing sequence and my disagreement with Shirley that she “brought another skeptic to his feet(!)”.

I have only seen the first High Spirits, and I will present a review of the whole series when I finally see it.

You can read more about our experience at Tony Youens’ webpage and Wendy Grossman’s blog as well as an article she wrote. Shirley’s homepage is here, and his page on the comedy website at the Beeb is here. The TV Tome give an episode by episode description.

From the archives: Nick Pullar – Shirley Ghostman and me

This article originally appeared in The Skeptic, Volume 15, Issue 2, from 2005.

From time to time I get contacted by TV shows wanting a skeptic to spar against a psychic. This time a producer from Tiger Aspect wanted me for a show they were doing on psychics for BBC2. John Pocock, the producer went through all the questions that I’ve come to expect about the show – how to do testing, what they should look out for, ways to stop cheating and all that. He asked me if I wanted to appear on the show, and never one to say “no”, I agreed. John said that he would work on the concept over the weekend and send me details on Monday.

When John sent me the details, it looked like a reasonably sensible test. Here is the relevant portion of John’s email to me:

Tomorrow, for our purposes we would like to start with an initial test that is quite straightforward, although this will lead to a more comprehensive one in the new year.  The test involves you writing down 5 statements about yourself that are not on your website and that you have not mentioned to me, we will then place these in a sealed envelope which we will ask you to keep with at all times.

The psychic claims he will be able to ‘read’ the exact information you have written down by his medium-ship and clairvoyance.  We have made it clear that for his reading to be deemed successful he will have to get all 5 facts correct. We have tried to minimize the element of interpretation so the statements will only be seen by you and his answers must match your statements exactly.  There will be time after the test for you to question him further if necessary.

The psychic has not been told whom he is to be tested by and the production crew have not been told your name (it is only myself and the producer who are aware of your booking).

I thought very carefully about this – I know it’s important not to choose obvious things, or things that are true about myself, but are also true for large numbers of other people, so I selected five things about myself, printed them, then sealed the paper, folded in half, inside an opaque bubble-wrap envelope. The bubble wrap inside made the light scatter, so when I held the envelope up to the light, I couldn’t even see the paper inside, let alone the writing. I was satisfied that my five facts were secure.

On the Tuesday, I went to the location they had selected – University College London, and things began as usual for TV. I waited. While I was being minded by a nice production assistant, another producer asked me to do a drawing for the reading. This made my internal Robbie the Robot worried: “Danger Will Robinson! Danger!” I know that there are lots of ways to discover the contents of a drawing – the most obvious is that when people are asked to make a drawing at short notice they tend to draw one of a limited range of ideas: a house, a boat, a smiley face or sun, a person or a flower. I therefore decided not to draw any of those.

The production assistant was sitting there (although turned away) so I opened my newspaper and rested the bottom half on the table and used the top half to make a shield. This way they wouldn’t be able to get an imprint of what I was drawing on the table, nor could the assistant see me. I checked over my shoulder – I couldn’t see anyone there, or a camera, but I shielded the drawing with my body. After making my drawing, I drew a picture of a house on the newspaper, so that if they were watching my pen, they would see me draw a house. I folded the single piece of paper in half twice, and sealed it in their envelope. I kept both envelopes and the newspaper with me at all times, and no-one from the production team asked to touch them or look at them.

Soon after I had finished my drawing, it was time for my meeting with the psychic. I was taken one of the chemistry labs at UCL, where I waited some more with yet another producer. There was some more phaffing about (TV types love to do that!) and finally I was ushered into the presence of Shirley.

The lab was completely dark, except for a single fluorescent bulb bathing Shirley in a soft glow from the left-hand side of the table. Shirley was sitting at the end of a lab table turned lengthwise wearing a well-made three piece white linen suit with white coiffed hair, his hands crossed in front of him, and an imperious look on his face. I must say that my first impression was that he really looked the part!

I sat on a stool opposite Shirley and the director told me that Shirley and I were to have a discussion and then Shirley would tell me what I had written down and drawn.

The conversation began strangely and then continued in an even more bizarre way. I introduced myself to Shirley and we shook hands. I waited for Shirley to reciprocate, but this was clearly not on Shirley’s agenda. There was an awkward pause while nothing happened, and the director suggested that I tell Shirley why I was there, which I thought was odd because Shirley was supposed to be the psychic – and I thought it was obvious that I was there to participate in a “test” of his powers. Anyway, I began to explain that I ran a club called Skeptics in the Pub and Shirley interrupted with “Septics in the pub?” It was at this point that I realised that Shirley was no ordinary psychic. Ordinary psychics are, in my experience, generally nice, pleasant people. They are friendly and polite. Shirley, on the other hand, was difficult, rude and aggressive. I said, “No, Skeptics” and continued with my explanation. Shirley then interrupted me and said that he would “prove the existence of the spirit world to me – either in this world, or the next.” Well, I thought, at least he doesn’t suffer from a lack of confidence. I asked Shirley if he knew about the spirit world, or just believed. Shirley said he knew and believed – because he could see spirits, but not just ordinary spirits mark you, famous ones. Apparently William Shakespeare had been in Shirley’s bedroom the previous night.

Now I was really intrigued – who were Shirley’s regular clients? What sort of person gives credibility to a psychic who claims to see William Shakespeare? This seemed to be stretching credibility, even for psychics! Where did the production company find Shirley? Didn’t they perform even the most basic tests on him themselves to establish his credibility? Nonetheless, Shirley had made a claim, so I felt it was my duty to examine it in the best way I could. “How did you know it was Shakespeare?” I asked. His answer dripped derision – “He told me!” he answered, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. I endeavoured to point out that Shirley had not ever met Shakespeare, so how did he know that this spirit really was Shakespeare, or another spirit just claiming to be Shakespeare. Alas, I didn’t get far in this line of reasoning as I was interrupted by Shirley (this was to become almost the defining feature of the encounter). Shirley interrupted me by asking why I was trying to “undermine” him! Well, I thought, that’s the point of a skeptic on a TV encounter with a psychic!

Shirley looked down his nose at me, and said in a deep and what I took to be mysterious voice, “I know things about you”. I asked what he knew, and Shirley told me about my “shame and fear inside”. I wasn’t feeling shame or fear inside, so I wanted to know why Shirley thought I was. Shirley however had different plans – he wouldn’t talk about it “because of the cameras”; he wanted to protect my dignity from undue exposure on the tele. How thoughtful! This made me think more about the question of who Shirley’s real clients were – was his client list stacked with people who did have deep, dark secrets, so this rather unsubtle cold reading hook would find some purchase? I was in a different position however: I was there to test Shirley, and I knew that I didn’t have a hidden life that warranted “fear and shame”, and since I believed that that Shirley had special insight into me as much as I believed that the Moon is a giant marshmallow, I had no problems asking him for further “insights”.

I pressed Shirley, and despite his great protestations, I managed to get the following story: Apparently, in October I had been to a party, actually Sammy’s christening, where I got drunk and tore a woman’s dress, scratching her with my wedding ring in the process. This story was torn at my great insistence from Shirley “fact” by painful “fact”; at each new revelation Shirley at first coyly refusing to divulge the titbit (in order to spare my blushes) until finally he revealed the item at question. Shirley’s actions clearly demonstrated that he believed my personal shame was being exposed to a national TV audience, with him doing his best to protect me, while I recklessly insisted on the revelation of my own humiliation by the most gifted psychic of the age!

There was just one small problem with the story Shirley revealed: It was false in every detail! And not just a bit wrong, either! Totally wrong. I’ve never been to the christening of a child called “Sammy”, indeed I know of no-one by that name. Furthermore, I didn’t attend any christenings in October. I’ve never ripped a woman’s dress – at a party, christening or elsewhere; and, most tellingly of all, as the attendees of Skeptics in the Pub will attest, I do not drink – my drunkenness thereby being impossible. Shirley refused to accept my denials and greeted my teetotalism claim with a scepticism that would do Martin Gardiner proud – “You would say that, wouldn’t you?” intimating that I had a drinking problem! I suggested that I swear an affidavit to verify my claim, which was greeted with exclamations of “You want to swear on who?”, “Is David your child?” and “Why do you want to swear on a child’s life?” The interview was getting more peculiar by the moment!

But the whole “shame” thing was not as weird as the hypnotism stunt. At three junctures where Shirley and I had our greatest moments of disagreement, Shirley would snap his fingers and command, “Sleep!” and give me an instruction. This first was after I denied belief in the spirit world, Shirley “hypnotised” me such that when I “awoke” I would “see things as they really were”! Needless to say, his attempt at this was as successful as his attempt at divining my inner life, although after one of these episodes I expressed my belief that I thought Shirley would be good in stand-up!

My gentle reader will remember that the Assistant Producer had asked me to produce five facts about myself. They were, with numbers:

  1. My first school was Hillsborough Primary School.
  2. I buried Sweep the cat in the garden.
  3. I am wearing green underpants today.
  4. My favourite thing in Debrecen is the big yellow church.
  5. My wife and I saw dolphins on our honeymoon.

It will not surprise my reader to learn that Shirley got exactly zero correct – however, you would be wrong! Amazingly, Shirley claimed he had managed to guess four out of the five statements! An impressive result, you’ll agree. Here are Shirley’s six responses:

  1. Wine gums
  2. Richard
  3. Burger
  4. Butt plug/anal plug
  5. Peyton Park – alas, I can’t remember that this was exactly. It was a place I have never heard of.
  6. Condom

In case you can’t work it out for yourself, the one Shirley agreed he didn’t get was number 3 – green underpants/burger. The reason he didn’t get that one was that he confused the lettuce on the burger and green of the underpants, and he was hungry. Shirley was adamant however, despite the producer’s earlier assurance that “his answers must match your statements exactly”, that the other four were direct hits! His explanation of this belief was thus:

  1. I liked wine gums when I was at school (he later expanded on this with the suggestion that I was a very fat child at school and was taunted by my school-mates with taunts of “Porky Pig”).
  2. Richard is the person who dug Sweep up.
  3. <no hit>
  4. I cannot remember the connection between the big yellow church in Debrecen and a butt plug – I fear it was too horrible to be committed to memory!
  5. I would secretly rather have gone to the place mentioned by Shirley, than seeing dolphins on our honeymoon.
  6. My wife and I are planning to have children.

I will leave it to the reader’s own abilities to work out the cogency of Shirley’s reasoning.

Next, we moved onto the drawing. I drew the symbol for pi: “π” with “3.14…” underneath. Shirley assured me that his drawing had been completed the previous night, and if it had been a picture of “π” with “3.14…” underneath then it would have been devastating for my case. But before we could get to the unveiling of the drawings, Shirley and I had a little set-to. Shirley insisted that I show my drawing first. I was equally resolute that Shirley, being the subject of the test, should reveal his effort first. Shirley attempted to resolve the dispute by use of his hypnotism routine. While the envelope was safely under my elbow on the table, Shirley snapped his fingers, and commanded, “Sleep! You will show me your picture when you wake!” Another snap of the fingers, “Wake!” I shook my head slightly, and looked at the envelope, which I picked up, and offered to Shirley, all with a slightly confused look on my face. Shirley had a perplexed expression as he reached out to take the envelope from me, at which point, I flicked the envelope away from Shirley’s outstretched hand, and said “Well that didn’t work, did it?” Eventually we agreed to open our drawings simultaneously.

Shirley’s “drawing” was actually dozens of drawings covering all the most commonly drawn objects – I saw a spade, a heart, a house, “e=mc2”and lots of other items. Alas, pi was absent. After a through search of the page, the best Shirley could come up with was an equation, which contained the square root of “n” as a component. Shirley triumphantly announced that this equation was equal to the value pi! I demurred from the conclusion that Shirley had scored a hit, but Shirley, with increasing vigour and rising anger, amid much table-slapping that he was right and I was wrong, demanded for the director a caption which would show that the equation was equal to pi! I did agree that for one value of “n”, Shirley’s equation was equal to pi, but then for different values of “n” it could be made equal to an infinite number of other numbers! 

Our conversation was drawing to a close. In what I can only describe as a misguided attempt to… what? Impress me? Shirley said that Einstein was in the room with us. Shirley said he was attracted by the Bunsen burners. Apparently Einstein had neglected to mention to Shirley that while he was a scientist, he was a theoretical physicist who didn’t use Bunsen burners in his work. This observation appeared to enrage the already emotional and volatile man. Shirley screamed at me this was typical of my pedantic behaviour. Oh well, I suppose that asking for accuracy from a psychic could be described as pedantry!

After Shirley had calmed down somewhat, my parting shot to Shirley was very simple: “You are a terrible psychic”. He did not like that at all. We had a little shouting match when, for the first time (and to my great surprise) Shirley shut up and let me speak uninterrupted. I methodically went through every claim that Shirley had made and explained that all of them were false. Every single one. For someone whose confidence was so high at the beginning that he was going to prove the reality of the spirit world, it was quite a litany. As he looked at me in silence, I saw tears well up in Shirley’s eyes, and his lip start to tremble – I had made Shirley cry. His response was meek, “You like to destroy things, to grind them into dust.” “Of course I don’t,” I said, “but as a skeptic, I must go where the evidence leads me – you are a terrible psychic”.

The denouement was at hand, and it was quite a contrast to what had happened a scant few moments before. It became obvious that Shirley wanted to finish by saying directly to camera, “Yet another skeptic brought to his knees by Shirley Ghostman”. However this was such a blatantly absurd claim, that I turned to my camera and said “No he didn’t!” Shirley wanted, even needed the last word. Again and again he would say his concluding line and every time he did, I reiterated my denial. Shirley appealed to the director, but I simply said that they could do what they liked, but, while I was there, I would continue to express my disagreement. Shirley banged his hand on the table and threatened me, “I’m nearly losing it!” Alas, it was too late for Shirley to have this insight – he had lost it some time before. Eventually, it became too much for Shirley. I wouldn’t let him have the last word he wanted, and he stormed out like a petulant child. I thought it was a fitting end to our dialogue.

After Shirley had made his dramatic exit, stage right, I turned to the director and said, “Sorry if I ruined you show.” He looked back and said, “Well, you did very well from your point of view.”

At the time, I could not fathom what the intentions of the programme makers were after. Shirley was such an unbelievably bad psychic – and histrionic, a Prima Donna, and an angry and aggressive person that unless their intention was to humiliate Shirley, I couldn’t see that there was any way this exchange would further knowledge into the testing of psychics. 

The experience described in this essay represents the most bizarre and surreal experience I have ever had as a skeptic. Thanks, at least for that, Shirley.

Note

I did not take notes during the filming, which occurred on Tuesday 14 December 2004. However, I did make notes of the event that evening, and wrote this essay finishing on Sunday 19 December 2004. The items in quotes are therefore not direct quotes (with the exception of the John Pocock email) and I’m not 100% sure about the sequence of events but this is my best recollection of what happened. I have made every effort to be fair and truthful in this account,

The truth

We now know that Shirley Ghostman is a TV character, played by Marc Wootan. He is the star of “High Spirits with Shirley Ghostman”. 

There were five skeptics who were contacted to do the show, in all: Chris French, Wendy Grossman, Tony Youens, Paul Taylor and myself. I met Paul at the filming (he was next after me) but I didn’t find out about the others until the next day.

We were all perplexed about the experience we had been through, which were all very similar. I couldn’t work out what was going on, but Chris thought the whole thing was a spoof – the rest of us disagreed, because why would anyone spoof us – we are skeptics, with a small to nil media exposure.

It was Wendy who found out the truth. Shirley was in reality Marc Wootan, and the show was a spoof.

The thing that annoyed us most was that the production company, Tiger Aspect, didn’t tell us that we were taking part in a spoof show. Their explanation was that they wanted our genuine reactions to Shirley, and if we knew it was an act, then they wouldn’t have got those; which I think is fair enough, however, they didn’t tell us after, either! This made us very suspicious, especially when we learned that Wootan’s previous project was “My New Best Friend” – an exercise in humiliation comedy. We were (justifiably, I think) worried that “Shirley” was just doing a number on us. We had lots of phone calls and emails with the Associate Producer, during which he told us that we weren’t the subject of the show – our purpose was to send Shirley up, but we didn’t believe him! 

Chris French’s segment went first, on the second show. He was very relaxed after seeing it, and it put all our minds at rest! Wendy was second, and I was the other skeptic used.

My contribution appeared on the final show, on 19 April 2005. Of course it was heavily edited and featured only my introduction to Shirley, with the William Shakespeare bit; the whole drawing sequence and my disagreement with Shirley that she “brought another skeptic to his feet(!)”.

From the archives: Ray Hyman replies on Parapsychology

This article originally appeared in The Skeptic, Volume 22, Issue 2, from 2012.

I would like to respond to many of the issues raised by Wiseman, Watt, and Roe. Unfortunately, space limitations allow me to focus on one or two. So I will confine my reply to just a couple that seem most central to my essay.

I was puzzled by Chris Roe’s statement, “Hyman makes a number of vague allusions to a lack of quality in parapsychological research…” I was unaware that I had made such allusions, vague or otherwise. I assume that Roe has been misled by a possible ambiguity when I wrote:

“These neoparapsychologists… acknowledge that the evidence for psi is inconsistent, elusive, and fails to meet accepted scientific standards.”

In this context, both the neoparapsychologists and I are not addressing the issue of whether the quality of individual experiments meets “accepted scientific standards” such as appropriate controls for possible confounds and proper application of statistical analyses. Rather, we are focusing on the consistency of outcomes across a series of experiments.

The problem at issue is not whether the individual experiments employ adequate methodology, but rather do the outcomes from separate experiments show consistent, lawful and reproducible patterns. The neoparapsychologists agree with me that they do not. The “accepted scientific standards” are those that require that a finding has to be independently reproducible before it can be accepted as a legitimate subject for scientific scrutiny.

Neoparapsychologists do find some consistent tendencies in the results of psi experiments such as experimenter effects, decline effects, reversal of effects and the like. But even these tendencies are far from predictable; along with other inconsistencies in the outcomes, they are what put the findings outside the scope of orthodox science.

Since the time of Galileo, Kepler, Harvey, and Newton, modern science has flourished just because it focused only on phenomena that were available for public scrutiny, were lawful, and could be independently replicated. Claims that challenged existing theories were taken seriously when they were supported by evidence that met these criteria of consistency. Claims such as N-rays, Martian Canals, polywater, mitogenetic radiation, and cold fusion which were based on evidence that could not be reliably replicated were rejected. It is worth noting that the proponents of these rejected claims also attributed the inability to consistently replicate to experimenter effects, reversal effects, decline effects and the sort of inconsistencies that plague psi research. As I pointed out in my essay, science can only succeed when it studies phenomena that are lawful and reliably reproducible.

Roe makes another point to which I think I should respond. He wrote:

“Hyman bemoans parapsychology’s poor replication record and… rather selectively uses one study by Broughton and Alexander (1977) to illustrate his point…”

He is correct that I deliberately selected this study to make my point. I could have just as well have chosen some other studies such as the failure to replicate the PEAR experiments (Jahn et al., 2000). Like the attempted replication of the PEAR experiments, the Broughton and Alexander experiment met all the criteria of a replication attempt that should have succeeded if, indeed, there had been a real effect. The experiment was prospective in that it was designed to test a prediction that the results of the autoganzfeld experiments were real and replicable. The design and procedures were deliberately made to be as similar as possible to original experiments. Even some of the very same equipment was used. The authors made sure to include a sufficient number of subjects and trials so that lack of power would not be a factor. They not only tested for the entire primary, but also the secondary effects that were part of the original findings. In addition, the experimenters were experienced parapsychologists.

The failure of this direct replication cannot be easily dismissed as due to low power, experimenter effect, non-standardness of design, or any of the other excuses that often are used to explain away negative findings.

Roe apparently believes that the results of psi research, while indeed showing some inconsistencies, are basically replicable. To me, the most sobering consideration for a parapsychologist in regards to replicability is that, unlike every other area of inquiry that claims to be a science, parapsychology is the only one that lacks a ‘paradigm’ experiment. As Kuhn (1977) acknowledges, his original conception of paradigms referred to standard experiments that science textbooks provide students. Each area of science has its own set of standard experiments that serve as exemplars of the field. A standard experiment could be given as a laboratory assignment with the expectation that the students could replicate the original results.

Psychology, for example, has hundreds, even thousands, of such standard experiments. Every introductory psychology lab can assign the students paradigms in sensation, perception, memory, problem solving and other areas with the confidence that the students will replicate the original results. As just one illustration, consider Ebbinghaus’s classic experiment on the laws of forgetting. The student can conduct the experiment on herself or on another person and will obtain essentially the same lawful curve that Ebbinghaus reported in 1885.

As I pointed out, parapsychology does not have even one paradigm experiment. The problem is deeper than just the inability to consistently get significant departures from chance. The loose connection between theory and experimental results in parapsychology means that the constraints on how psi should manifest itself in the data are weak. Ultimately, the decision to claim that psi is present relies on a significant departure from chance. Parapsychologists have no disciplined way to decide when psi is present and when it is not; nor do they have any principled way to decide whether an effect in experiment A is due to the same cause as the same sized effect in experiment B. This is equivalent to declaring that any outcome showing a drop in the proportion of recalled syllables over time is a successful replication of Ebbinghaus’s original experiment even if the resulting function clearly differs from the original curve.

Yet, parapsychologists often seem willing to claim a successful replication in cases where only a departure from chance occurs in the new experiment. (See the example I described wherein parapsychologists claimed that the autoganzfeld experiments successful replicated the original ganzfeld experiments.) Replication, in orthodox science, refers to reproducing a pattern of results not just an abstract ‘effect.’ Even given the loose concept of replication that parapsychologists often use, their results clearly do not replicate.

From the archives: Parapsychology – when is evidence sufficient?

This article originally appeared in The Skeptic, Volume 22, Issue 2, from 2012.

Ray Hyman would have us believe that “parapsychology is dead”. In this response I shall consider the reasons he provides for this claim and show – to paraphrase Mark Twain, an early member of the Society for Psychical Research and author of articles on ‘mental telegraphy’ (Bratcher, 2008) – that the report of parapsychology’s death is an exaggeration.

Hyman claims that the goal of parapsychology is (and implicitly always has been) to gain the recognition of the scientific community and to meet the most exacting of scientific standards of evidence, and in this respect parapsychology has been unsuccessful. I am happy to concede that this may have been one of a number of motivations behind the approach adopted by J.B. and Louisa Rhine in founding and developing their laboratory at Duke University from the 1930s to the 1960s (a period that Beloff, 1993, refers to as the “Rhine Revolution”), but of course it is far removed from the primary aim of parapsychology. The founders of the SPR did not set out on a public relations exercise but rather were committed to extend the reach of the scientific method to include more contentious claims, to “examine without prejudice or prepossession and in a scientific spirit those faculties of man, real or supposed, which appear to be inexplicable on any generally recognized hypothesis”.

Contemporary definitions of the discipline similarly emphasize the application of available methodological and conceptual tools to make best sense of an array of phenomena that superficially seem difficult to accommodate in our current worldview, so that parapsychology is the “study of experiences which, if they are as they seem to be, are in principle outside the realm of human capabilities as presently conceived by conventional scientists” (Irwin & Watt, 2007, p. 1, emphasis added). As Caroline Watt has described in this exchange, this means that parapsychologists are increasingly interested in “what seems psychic but isn’t” (Morris, 1986) in their efforts to understand phenomena rather than seeking support for some prior esoteric worldview (which at times they are unfairly caricatured as doing). However, parapsychologists recognise that this work towards conventional explanations must be complemented with more direct tests of the putative phenomena under controlled conditions if we are to do justice to the experiences that people report, particularly given that the results of such experiments are claimed to provide evidence for anomalies in information exchange that might require revisions in elements of our worldview (but see Dobyns, in press).

In the next section I shall briefly consider whether parapsychologists have grounds to claim persuasive evidence for the occurrence of effects under conditions that preclude normal explanations, but first would like to respond to Hyman’s claim that parapsychology’s attempts at scientific respectability are “unrealistic and unachievable”. Of course, acceptance is a matter of degree and much work remains to be done, but there has been some positive movement in the normalisation of academic parapsychology in recent years, in the UK at least. Delanoy (in press) has noted that at least 16 UK universities have fulltime academic staff whose doctoral training was solely or primarily in parapsychology, and a similar number are currently engaged in graduate training that is accredited by these institutions.

Parapsychology has featured regularly at conferences organised by the British Psychological Society (I personally have had papers accepted for the BPS’s annual conference as well as those organised by the sections concerned with Social Psychology, Transpersonal Psychology and Consciousness and Experiential Psychology), which tends to argue against an institutional antipathy. ‘Anomalistic psychology’ has been included in the specification for A2 Psychology (the standard pre-university qualification) by the Assessment and Qualifications Alliance (AQA), the assessment body that has much the largest market share of the 50,000 students who take Psychology each year. This specification includes elements on experimental testing of ESP and PK, so that future undergraduates will come to university with a grounding in parapsychology and an expectation that the subject will be represented on any comprehensive undergraduate syllabus. This is not really the profile of a subject that is “consigned to the fringes of academia”, as Richard Wiseman claims in his contribution here.

Hyman makes a number of rather vague allusions to a lack of quality in parapsychological research, which undermines any claim to have demonstrated the occurrence of an anomalous effect. He asserts, for example, that the evidence “fails to meet established scientific criteria”, but apart from some general concerns about the limitations of meta-analysis (which are clearly not specific to parapsychology) it is not clear in what way(s) parapsychological research is deficient; without specifying what “established criteria” are required for a study to qualify as of high quality this claim remains insubstantial and unfalsifiable – it is not a scientific claim.

So what might those criteria include? Watt and Nagtegaal (2004) have described the use of double-blind methods – in which the experimenter and others who may have some involvement in the data generation and recording phases are at that time unaware of the nature of the target and so cannot  unwittingly cue the participant – as a possible indicator of study quality (while acknowledging that otherwise poor-quality designs could still include blinds). It is well established that the outcome of a study can be affected by the experimenter’s prior knowledge and expectations, leading to artifacts if this is not adequately addressed (Rosenthal, 1976). But when Sheldrake (1999) surveyed various journal publications he found that the use of double-blinds was very rare in the physical and biological sciences (0% and 0.8% respectively), somewhat more common in medical sciences (24.2%) but most common in parapsychology (85.2%); surprisingly, other research in psychology and animal behaviour used blinded methods even less than in medicine (4.9%), despite the emphasis on the problems of demand characteristics in social science methods training. Watt and Nagtegaal (2004) conducted a second survey to see if Sheldrake’s findings could be replicated and found a similar profile (parapsychology: 79.1%, Psychology: 14.5%). By this criterion, then, it is difficult to justify the general claim that parapsychological research is methodologically poor in comparison with other social science research.

Hyman bemoans parapsychology’s poor replication record and, taking the Ganzfeld method as his example case, rather selectively uses one study by Broughton and Alexander (1997) to illustrate his point – one could just as easily have chosen Parker’s (2000) automated Ganzfeld database, consisting of 150 trials that gave a hit rate of 36% (z = 3.02), or Dalton’s (1997) series of 128 trials that gave a hit rate of 47% (h = .46). Which of these should we prefer? None. While it is tempting to focus on the outcomes of individual studies, particularly when so few people are professionally engaged in parapsychological research and it takes so long to build up anything like a reasonable database, we must accept that individual studies are susceptible to giving outcomes that reflect sampling error and also are affected by idiosyncratic features of the experimental environment – not obscure or mystical features, but ordinary factors such as experimenter-participant rapport or differences in recruitment strategy. For this reason we should prefer summary reviews (while remaining cognizant of their shortcomings) when making judgments about the robustness of effects. That is not to suggest that the outcomes from ganzfeld studies are robust and heterogeneous (they are not), but a good case can be made to argue that at least some of this variation is due to different researchers posing different research questions as they move from simply demonstrating a phenomenon to characterising and explaining it. This typically leads to variations in the procedure followed so that more or less conducive conditions can be compared or more radical departures from established procedure can be tested, with the expectation that not all variations are likely to be psi-conducive. In this context simply combining outcomes across studies to give a bottom-line effect size would be rather naïve (see Roe, in press a, for a fuller consideration of this point). Where ganzfeld studies have been coded according to the degree to which they adhere to Honorton’s ‘standard’ protocol (Bem, Palmer & Broughton, 2001), there is a very strong correlation between ‘standardness’ and effect size, with the subset of studies that closely replicate Honorton’s approach giving a hit rate of 31.2% that is highly significant and falls comfortably within Bem and Honorton’s 95% confidence interval for their autoganzfeld effect size estimate. That looks rather like replication to me.

A number of other strands of research in parapsychology offer some promise of also reliably capturing (admittedly small) effects, including work that takes more direct physiological measures (e.g., Radin, 2004) and studies that look for incidental psi effects in overtly cognitive tasks (e.g., Bem, 2008; Luke, Roe & Davison, 2008). Space does not permit me to consider these in any detail, but work to date suggests that these effects are reasonably replicable – certainly in comparison to the rather weak and inconsistent effects that are regarded as support for the more sceptical claim that paranormal beliefs are associated with cognitive deficits or social marginality (see Roe, in press b). I would be interested to know what levels of replication would be regarded as appropriate or reasonable for parapsychological work with human participants.

Finally, I should like to respond to the tendency of sceptical commentators to refer to the achievements of parapsychology in relation to the time since it became recognisable as a separate discipline. In this exchange, for example, Wiseman complains that “after over a century of work mainstream science remains sceptical of psi” and Hyman begins by noting that parapsychology has lasted “approximately 160 years”. This rhetorical device encourages the reader to assume that extension over time also translates into extensive and intensive activity, so raising their expectations about the degree of progress that might be reasonable. Against this, any actual progress pales, and the reader is moved to conclude that the phenomena are non-existent rather than elusive. But Caroline Watt has already drawn attention to the fact that very few persons are professionally involved in parapsychology, and even these typically have to combine their research activity with other academic duties. This situation is not new: Thouless (1953, p. 23) warned that “experimental workers in our subject are so few that we cannot afford wasted effort”, and Schouten (1993) calculated that the person-hours invested across the lifetime of parapsychology from its beginnings with the establishment of the Society for Psychical Research in 1882 equates to only two months’ of research in conventional psychology in the United States. In that context the body of evidence may seem more impressive.

But limitations in human resources and in funding affect more than gross productivity; they also shape the character of the research that is carried out. Elsewhere (Roe, in press c) I have described parapsychology as a “butterfly science” in which key researchers seem to shift from one protocol to another as they fall in and out of fashion much as a butterfly flits from flower to flower. Sceptical commentators have tended to regard this as suspect, much as Wiseman does in his commentary here. However, in my view this pattern occurs because the small number of researchers in parapsychology includes a disproportionately large number of innovators and early adopters and too few technicians. Innovators thrive on developing new protocols or adapting methods from other areas and in demonstrating ‘proof of principle’ by reporting significant psi effects using such methods; ‘early adopters’ are quick to seize on these new approaches and technologies and are responsible for the first wave of independent replications. However, relatively quickly the innovators lose interest in simple confirmations and move on to develop yet more methods and approaches, with the early adopters soon following suit. I am sure that this pattern also occurs in other disciplines, but with their greater numbers they also include many able technicians who are willing to conduct the kinds of modest replication extensions that Kuhn would have called ‘normal science’. (We have fewer technicians, but they do exist; for example, I found that there had been ten further ganzfeld studies conducted after the last meta-analytic reviews, and this database was independently significant – see Roe, in press a). The pattern is exacerbated by the intense competition for funding, which encourages novelty and innovation and which requires that results are forthcoming in the short to medium term; both of these select against the systematic and methodical programmes of the would-be technician that could provide the empirical foundation that sceptics are looking for.

At best this research cycle is frustrating in diverting resources away from a potentially fruitful avenue of research; at worst it looks suspicious to the outsider, who expects to see continuing and systematic work using a particular method for so long as it is productive, particularly where great claims were initially made for it – why are there so few micro-PK studies? So few ganzfeld studies? I agree with Wiseman and Watt that collectively parapsychologists need to address this issue by collaborating on a more systematic programme of research, one that goes beyond proof of principle and first wave independent replications. I believe that parapsychologists would be resolved to commit to such a programme, but in practice it would require a radical overhaul of the few funding mechanisms that are available to parapsychology for it to succeed; without a commitment of significant resources over the longer term it is difficult to see how parapsychologists could commit to Wiseman’s three basic rules.

References

  • Beloff, J. (1993). Parapsychology: A concise history. London: Athlone Press.
  • Bem, D.J. (2008). Feeling the future III: Additional experimental evidence for apparent retroactive influences on cognition and affect.International Conference of the Society for Psychical Research held Jointly with the Parapsychological Association, University of Winchester, UK, 13th to 17th August, 2008.
  • Bratcher, C. (2008). Mark Twain and ‘mental telegraphy’. International Conference of the Society for Psychical Research held Jointly with the Parapsychological Association, University of Winchester, UK, 13th to 17th August, 2008.
  • Dalton, K. (1997). Exploring the links: Creativity and psi in the ganzfeld. Proceedings of Presented Papers: The Parapsychological Association 40thAnnual Convention in Conjunction with the Society for Psychical Research, 119-134.
  • Delanoy, D. (in press). Parapsychology in a university setting. In C.A Roe, L. Coly & W. Kramer (Eds.) Utrecht II: Charting the future of parapsychology. NY: Parapsychology Foundation, Inc.
  • Dobyns, Y. (in press). Physics with an open mind. In C.A Roe, L. Coly & W. Kramer (Eds.) Utrecht II: Charting the future of parapsychology. NY: Parapsychology Foundation, Inc.
  • Luke, D.P., Roe, C.A., & Davison, J. (2008). Testing for forced-choice precognition using a hidden task: Two replications. Journal of Parapsychology, 72, 133-154.
  • Morris, R.L. (1986). What psi is not: The necessity for experiments. In H.L. Edge, R.L. Morris, J. Palmer, & J.H. Rush, Foundations of parapsychology: Exploring the boundaries of human capability (pp. 70-110). London: Routledge & Kegan Paul.
  • Radin, D.I. (2004). Electrodermal presentiments of future emotions. Journal of Scientific Exploration, 18, 253-273.
  • Roe, C.A. (in press a). The role of altered states of consciousness in extrasensory experiences. In M. Smith (Ed.), Developing perspectives on anomalous experience. Jefferson, NC: McFarland & Co.
  • Roe, C.A. (in press b). Anomalistic psychology. In N. Holt & R. Lewis (Eds) A2 Psychology 2009 AQA A Specification: The Student’s Textbook. London: Crown House Publishing.
  • Roe, C. A. (in press c). Personal reflections on Utrech II. In C.A. Roe, L. Coly, & W. Kramer (Eds) Utrecht II: Charting the future of Parapsychology. NY: Parapsychology Foundation, Inc.
  • Schouten, S. (1993). Are we making progress? In L. Coly & J. McMahon (Eds.) Psi research methodology: A re-examination. (pp. 295-322). NY: Parapsychology Foundation, Inc.
  • Thouless, R.H. (1953). Experimental design in parapsychology. Proceedings of the first international conference of parapsychological studies (pp. 21-23). New York, NY: Parapsychology Foundation, Inc.
  • Watt, C., & Nagtegaal, M. (2004). Reporting of blind methods: An interdisciplinary survey. Journal of the Society for Psychical Research, 68, 105-114.

From the archives: Parapsychology – it’s time to put up, or shut up

This article originally appeared in The Skeptic, Volume 22, Issue 2, from 2012.

I agree with much of what Ray Hyman has to say about the demise of parapsychology. When the field was founded around the turn of the last century it was over-brimming with optimism, with proponents of the paranormal hoping that science would rapidly yield overwhelming evidence to support the existence of psychic ability and survival of bodily death, and the world would quickly embrace a more spiritually-oriented conception of mankind. History has proved them wrong. After over a century of work, mainstream science remains sceptical of psi and parapsychology has been consigned to the fringes of academia.

Of course, this is not to suggest that many parapsychologists themselves have come to disbelieve in psychic powers. In fact, many argue that the evidence for psychic abilities is either convincing, or at least strong enough to justify further work. The main problem is that the databases they draw upon are constructed retrospectively, and the alleged affects have a curious habit of not replicating in prospective studies.

Faced with a lack of replicability, parapsychologists often turn to another alleged psi-conducive procedure, again piece together evidence to support this technique, and again find that it fails to produce replicable effects. This is not a recent phenomenon, with commentators remarking on this pattern throughout the history of the field. For example, writing over thirty years ago, parapsychologist Joseph Gaither Pratt (1978) noted:

One could almost pick a date at random since 1882 and find in the literature that someone somewhere had recently obtained results described in terms implying that others should be able to confirm the findings…One after another, however, the specific ways of working used in these initially successful psi projects have fallen out of favor and faded from the research scene – except for the latest investigations which, one may reasonably suppose, have not yet had enough time to falter and fade away as others before them have done.

This constant ‘ship jumping’ is one of the defining features of psi research, with new paradigms emerging every decade or so. Take, for example, the different trends in ESP research that have emerged over the years.

Initial work, conducted between the early 1930s and late 1950s primarily involved card guessing experiments, in which people were asked to guess the identity of specially printed playing cards carrying one of five simple symbols. By the mid-1960s parapsychologists had realised that such studies were problematic to replicate and so turned their attention to the possibility of participants predicting the outcome of targets selected by machines, and dream telepathy.

In the mid-1970s and early 1980s the ganzfeld experiments and remote viewing took over as dominant paradigms. In 1987, a major review of the area by parapsychologists K. Ramakrishna Rao and John Palmer argued that two sets of ESP studies provided the best evidence for the replicability of psi: the ganzfeld experiments and the differential ESP effect (wherein participants apparently score above chance in one condition of an experiment and below chance in another).

More recently parapsychologists have shifted their attention to alleged presentiment effects, wherein participants appear to be responding to stimuli before they are presented. Finally, there are now signs that the next new procedure is likely to adopt a neuropsychological perspective, focusing on EEG measurements or functional MRI scans as people complete psi tasks.

As Ray Hyman notes, this pattern of false dawns has driven some researchers to argue that psi is inherently impossible to replicate, essentially marking the end of the field as a scientific endeavour. But before researchers rush through the exit door, I think it is worth giving psi one last chance by staging one final attempt to create a database that provides the best-shot of deciding the existence of psi.

To achieve this, I believe that the researchers involved need to learn from the mistakes of the past and stick to three basic rules: First, they should stop trying lots of new procedures and instead identify one or two that have already yielded the most promising results. Second, they should arrange for several labs to carry out strict replications that are both methodologically sound and incorporate the most psi-conducive conditions possible. Third, the problems associated with retrospective meta-analysis should be avoided by pre-registering the key details involved in each of the studies. 

If this approach yields a significant and replicable effect then the scientific mainstream would be forced to take the topic seriously and allow parapsychology in from the cold. If it fails the field needs to have the courage to accept the null hypothesis. In short, the time has come to put up or shut up.

References

  • Pratt, J.G. (1978). Prologue to a debate: Some assumptions relevant to research in parapsychology. The Journal of the American Society for Psychical Research, 72, 127-139.
  • Article by Caroline Watt: “Putting things in perspective“.
  • Hyman, R., & Honorton, C. (1986). A joint communiqué: The psi ganzfeld controversy. Journal of Parapsychology, 50, 351-364.
  • Lucadou, W. von, Römer, H., & Walach, H. (2007). Synchronistic phenomena as entanglement correlations in Generalized Quantum TheoryJournal of Consciousness Studies, 14, 50-74.
  • Lucadou, W. von & Zahradnik, F. (2004). Predictions of the Model of Pragmatic Information about RSPK. Proceedings of the 47th Annual Convention of the Parapsychological Association, pp. 99-112. Vienna, August 5-8.
  • Schlitz, M., Wiseman, R., Watt, C., & Radin, D. (2006). Of two minds: Skeptic-proponent collaboration within parapsychology. British Journal of Psychology, 97, 313-322.
  • Watt, C. (2005). Presidential Address: Parapsychology’s contribution to psychology: A view from the front line. Journal of Parapsychology, 69, 215-232.
  • Watt, C., Watson, S., & Wilson, L. (2007). Cognitive and psychological mediators of anxiety: Evidence from a study of paranormal belief and perceived childhood control. Personality and Individual Differences, 42, 335-343.

From the archives: Parapsychology – putting things in perspective

This article originally appeared in The Skeptic, Volume 22, Issue 2, from 2012.

Parapsychology has long had its critics. Indeed, in my presidential address to the Parapsychological Association I argued that critics (whether situated within or outside the discipline) play a vital role for the field in helping to tighten up methodology (Watt, 2005). I deliberately avoid the term ‘sceptic’ since that simply refers to taking a questioning stance, which we should all be routinely doing as scientists. James Alcock’s (2003) critique, though itself containing some overly sweeping statements, nevertheless makes some quite devastating points and is essential reading for students of parapsychology. Other well-informed critics, such as our two preceding authors, deserve praise for making strenuous efforts to engage deeply with the field’s published literature and its researchers (Hyman & Honorton, 1986), and for rolling up their sleeves and actually collecting data in collaboration with parapsychologists, for example to explore topics such as the effects of the experimenter’s psi belief on study outcome (Schlitz, Wiseman, Watt & Radin, 2006).

I am already on record as agreeing with some of the critical points reiterated by Ray Hyman and Richard Wiseman, particularly about the need to focus on the most promising paradigms, and to conduct prospective meta-analyses (Watt, 2005). However, without making too many excuses, I think we need to remind ourselves of a few features of parapsychology as a field of enquiry that make it difficult to reach closure on the psi question. There are probably fewer than 100 researchers world-wide who are actively engaged in psi research. Of these, many – like me – will spend a proportion of their limited resources on the psi question, but will also be engaged in broader research into paranormal experiences and beliefs (e.g., Watt, Watson & Wilson, 2007). They feel the broader research is important because of the wide public prevalence of these experiences and beliefs, and they feel that the psi hypothesis is not the sole interesting question to be asked (though it may be the most revolutionary one from a theoretical point of view). For example, in 2008 at the main gathering for research-active parapsychologists, the Annual International Convention of the Parapsychological Association, only 10 out of 22 full papers (i.e., 45%) presented new data testing the psi hypothesis. If we look at it purely as a numbers game, it would be surprising if much could be learned about the possible existence and nature of psi under these circumstances. Since it’s unlikely that the field will attract more resources without persuasive evidence for psi, we find ourselves in a Catch-22 situation. I think the only way out is for the field to be more systematic and organized in how it tests the psi hypothesis. However, this would require individuals to give up pet theories and cherished paradigms, and sociological rather than scientific factors might hinder this kind of organized effort.

Particularly in the UK and Continental Europe, ‘doing parapsychology’ is increasingly becoming integrated with mainstream academia rather than being an activity that is pursued at independent (and often isolated) private research institutions. While in many ways parapsychologists are satisfied in achieving their goal of integration, it comes at a cost because these researchers are also coping with the heavy teaching and administrative loads that are part and parcel of modern academic life. Like their academic colleagues, unless they can bring in funding to buy themselves out of these duties, they struggle to find the time to conduct research. Catch-22 again! So, while critics may bemoan parapsychology’s lack of productivity regarding the psi question, we should remember that this may in part be due to hindrances to activity on this question.

Ray Hyman introduces us to ‘neoparapsychologists’, and although I recognize the gist of their ideas in his portrayal, I disagree that all proponents of this view of psi are stating that the nature of psi is such that it cannot be tested in a scientific manner. I am not an expert on their claims but my understanding is that there are different shades to the neoparapsychologists’ argument. Some theoretical standpoints hold that in controlled laboratory testing psi cannot be observed in the usual manner, such as repeatedly looking for a main predicted effect, but that testable predictions can be made. Because this is a relatively recent development, neoparapsychologists are currently developing answers to the question of how to apply this model of psi to data gathered in the laboratory. For example, rather than look for a main psi effect, one suggestion is to design the experiment to include a number of psychological and physical variables so that a correlation matrix can be produced. The psi effect is expected to manifest in the number and strength of correlations between these variables, while the null hypothesis is represented by the number of significant correlations expected by chance. The exact pattern of extra-chance correlations is not expected to replicate in subsequent experiments, but their number and strength is expected to replicate if the experimental conditions are the same (Lucadou, Römer & Walach, 2007). Outside the lab, testable predictions have also been made concerning how reports of spontaneous ostensibly paranormal phenomena would be affected by various manipulations under the neoparapsychological model of psi (Lucadou & Zahradnik, 2004). So, while it’s not easy being in parapsychology, I wouldn’t call for the undertakers just yet.

From the archives: The Demise of Parapsychology, 1850-2009

This article originally appeared in The Skeptic, Volume 22, Issue 2, from 2012.

The discipline of parapsychology, which was earlier known as psychical research, lasted approximately 160 years. It no longer exists. This claim will likely surprise those who call themselves “parapsychologists” as well as those readers who know that annual meetings still occur and parapsychology journals are still published. So the title of this article needs an explanation.

Parapsychology was a discipline that openly claimed to be a science and actively sought evidence for psi that would meet strict scientific criteria. Henry Sidgwick (1882), in his Presidential Address to the first meeting of the Society for Psychical Research (SPR), declared that the evidence that had been collected during the preceding 30 years demonstrated scientifically the reality of supernatural phenomena. The problem was that the majority of the scientific community did not agree. The SPR’s objective was to collect even more of the same kind of evidence until the scientific community accepted it.

The goals of parapsychology as a discipline were clear: Parapsychology wanted to gain the recognition of the scientific community as a legitimate field of science. In addition, parapsychology’s mission was to collect evidence for the existence of psi that would meet the strictest scientific criteria. These goals remained central to parapsychology’s aims until fairly recently.

During the past decade, a growing number of parapsychologists have acknowledged that these goals are unrealistic and, indeed, unachievable (Bierman, 2001; Jahn & Dunne, 2008; Kennedy, 2001, 2003; Ludacou, 2001). These neoparapsychologists, as I shall call them, acknowledge that the evidence for psi is inconsistent, elusive, and fails to meet accepted scientific criteria. Such misgivings had been expressed by many earlier parapsychologists. What make the current admissions different is that the neoparapsychologists claim that the evidence for psi in principle cannot meet scientific standards. Indeed, they argue that the inability to be captured by scientific methodology is an intrinsic property of psi.

Bierman, Jahn, Kennedy, Ludacou and those parapsychologists who both agree and disagree with them will continue to do research and write about parapsychology. But a discipline that relies on evidence that cannot meet scientific standards is no longer the parapsychology that the founders had hoped to create. It is in this sense that parapsychology, as it was conceived by its founders and promoted by its practitioners, has ceased to exist.

What About Contemporary Claims That Psi has been Proven?

Although the neoparapsychologists argue that the evidence for psi cannot be scientifically demonstrated, others, in stark contrast, insist that psi has been conclusively proven with scientifically impeccable evidence. (As far as I can tell, the advocates of these opposing claims do not acknowledge each other’s existence.) The statistician and parapsychologist, Jessica Utts (1995, p. 289), wrote that, “[u]sing the standards applied to any other area of science, it is concluded that psychic functioning has been well established.” Perhaps the most outspoken advocate of the reality of psi is Dean Radin (1997). He has maintained that “we are forced to conclude that when psi research is judged by the same standards as any other scientific discipline, then the results are as consistent as those observed in the hardest of the hard sciences!” (Radin, 1997, p. 58; italics in the original).

Despite the boldness of these assertions, their support is illusory. Both Utts and Radin rely completely on the results of meta-analyses. I conducted the first meta-analysis on parapsychological data in my critique of the ganzfeld research (Hyman, 1985). Honorton (1985) did the second meta-analysis in response to mine. The fact that we came to very different conclusions doing meta-analyses on the identical data base should alert us to the fact that meta-analyses lack statistical robustness. In spite of the fact that parapsychologists subsequently began relying on meta-analysis as the main technique to support their claims, the procedures are fraught with so many blemishes that the support they offer is vacuous.

Space limits preclude discussing all the limitations of the meta-analyses, but some of the main issues are statistical, such as the heterogeneity of effect sizes that plagues almost all of these meta-analyses. Among other things this makes the use of the Stouffer Z inappropriate and overly optimistic. It also raises questions about the meaningfulness of the combined effect size. Meta-analyses are also retrospective. Using them to argue that the evidence is replicable is misleading. Replicability means that we can use current outcomes to predict new outcomes. This is something that parapsychology has been unable to do. Rather than list several more limitations of using meta-analysis to establish that psi exists and that the supporting evidence is replicable, I will highlight just one very serious problem.

Several meta-analyses have been conducted on the ganzfeld experiments. More than 100 such experiments have been reported beginning in 1974 to the present. With one controversial exception, the various meta-analyses report combined effect sizes that are positive and significantly different from zero. An effect size is simply a difference between an actual outcome and an outcome expected by chance. This difference is “standardized” by dividing it by the standard deviation (which is a measure of the variability among the subjects in an experiment). The use of effect sizes to compare the results from different experiments makes sense if the various outcomes are conceptually coherent. Just about every meta-analysis in parapsychology violates this requirement.

Let me give an example. The autoganzfeld experiments were touted as a successful replication of the original ganzfeld experiments (Bem & Honorton, 1994). As I have previously pointed out (Hyman, 1994), the autoganzfeld experiments failed to replicate the original experiments. The original ganzfeld experiments all used static targets. The meta-analysis of these experiments yielded a highly significant combined effect size. The autoganzfeld experiments used both static and dynamic targets. The resulting effect size (combining both types of targets) was approximately the same size as that for the original ganzfeld experiments as well as statistically significant. This is the basis for declaring a successful replication. The static targets, however, when considered separately, had an effect size

consistent with zero. In addition, the outcome for these static targets, which are the most relevant to the original experiments, was significantly different from the outcome for the original experiments. In other words, the autoganzfeld failed to replicate the original experiments. Bem and other parapsychologists simply ignored my argument and continued to claim that the autoganzfeld experiments were a successful replication. The neoparapsychologists agree with my position on this issue.

Broughton and Alexander (1997) attempted a direct replication of the autoganzfeld experiments. They even used some of the same equipment that Honorton and his colleagues had employed in their experiments. The result was a failure to replicate not only the overall results of the first autoganzfeld experiments, but also all of the secondary effects that were originally reported. The Broughton and Alexander experiment failed to replicate both the autoganzfeld experiments as well as the original ganzfeld experiments. Despite this, all of the major meta-analyses of the ganzfeld experiments include the original ganzfeld experiments, the autoganzfeld experiments and the Broughton and Alexander experiments. When you include the effect sizes from these three data bases, the combined effect size is both positive and “significant”. This is interpreted by Radin, Utts and others as proof that psi exists and that the supporting evidence is replicable.

An unfortunate consequence of relying upon meta-analyses to support claims of psi is that experiments that blatantly fail to replicate one another can be combined in a way that seems to say otherwise. Ironically, the very same meta-analyses that are used by some parapsychologists to boldly proclaim that the evidence for psi is replicable have been used as one of the major supports for just the opposite conclusion (Bierman, 2001). Bierman considered many of the major meta-analyses that have been done in parapsychology. For each meta-analysis he fitted regression lines to the effect sizes plotted against the year they were obtained. In all cases the slopes of the regression lines were negative. In other words, they all demonstrated a decline effect. At the beginning of each programme of parapsychological research, the effect sizes tended to be positive and significant, but as the years progressed, the effect sizes in each research programme tended to become zero. This “erosion of evidence” as some parapsychologists call it, was also noticed by many parapsychologists before its confirmation by the meta-analyses.

Some of the neoparapsychologists realize that if psi were a real effect, at least in the sense understood by orthodox science, that instead of a decline, effect sizes should show an incline over time.

Is the Elusive Nature of the Evidence an Inherent Property of Psi?

As I have indicated, several contemporary parapsychologists have marshalled impressive amounts of evidence to demonstrate that the evidence for psi is non-replicable, inconsistent, and elusive (Bierman, 2001; Jahn & Dunne, 2008; Kennedy, 2001, 2003; Ludacou, 2001). Kennedy (2003) entitled his paper, “The Capricious, Actively Evasive, Unsustainable Nature of Psi”. This title suggests the frustration that the neoparapsychologists experience. It seems as if the findings are teasing the researchers. Indeed, Kennedy’s preferred hypothesis is that some intelligent agent is somehow deliberately manipulating the evidence so that psi appears to be real but always evades being captured by the scientific method.

The neoparapsychologists discern patterns in the parapsychological data. In many cases a new line of research contains a mixture of results that include some insignificant outcomes but also many significant results. With the passing of time the significant outcomes become fewer until finally the average effect size approaches zero. Another pattern is where the results, instead of going to zero, actually change from psi-hitting to psi-missing. Of course, there is the experimenter effect: some researchers consistently get positive results (but only for a time); some consistently get negative effect sizes; and others do not get significant outcomes. The problem is that these patterns are unpredictable and cannot be captured by scientific methodology.

The neoparapsychologists do not just admit that parapsychology has failed to produce evidence that can scientifically pass scientific muster. They go further and argue that this ability to evade scientific scrutiny is an inherent and unique property of psi. Psi exists, they maintain, but it will require a new kind of science to recognize it. Jahn and Dunne (2008) call for changing the rules of science to allow psi to be accepted. This obviously begs the question that they assume psi exists. But they cannot prove it by current scientific methods. Therefore let’s change the methods to allow psi to enter the halls of science.

Because they do not doubt the existence of psi, the neoparapsychologists seek explanations for why it manifests itself in such quirky ways. Most seem to prefer analogies with the seemingly odd behaviour of quantum phenomena. Kennedy, as indicated, hypothesizes that some unknown intelligence is deliberately teasing the researchers. Such a hypothesis, which takes us back to the mischief of the ancient gods, is still another indicator of how far parapsychology is straying from the world of science.

These attempted explanations of the apparent pattern of results are little more than re-descriptions of eccentricities in the obtained results. Although the parapsychologists try to find evidence for a coherent phenomenon they label psi, they have never managed to propose a positive definition that would enable them to predict and detect the presence of psi in the data. Instead, they rely on a negative definition to detect the presence of ESP and PK. They declare psi is present whenever the outcomes vary significantly from a chance baseline and no mundane explanation is readily at hand. An example of this was discussed in my discussion of effect sizes in meta-analyses.

Alcock (2003) provides a relatively complete list of the major problems faced by parapsychology. Here, I will focus just on the lack of a positive concept and test for detecting the presence of psi. One consequence is that the parapsychologists have proposed many sufficient conditions for the presence of psi but lack any necessary conditions. For example, Rhine and other early parapsychologists made much about the discovery of the “decline effect” within parapsychological experiments. This decline effect was hailed as proof of the existence of psi, even in experiments where the overall effect size was zero. However, when the decline effect was not discovered in other experiments, this did not prevent the researchers from declaring the presence of psi if they detected some other pattern that differed from chance. This creates the unsatisfactory situation where a wide variety of patterns can be used to demonstrate the presence of psi, but there is no way to demonstrate the absence of psi. This, by itself, can contribute to a large number of spurious successes. And, of course, it makes the claims for psi unfalsifiable.

Another defect of this negative approach to the detection of psi, is that we have no disciplined way to claim that an effect size in one experiment is due to the same cause as the effect size in another experiment. I have already discussed how the neoparapsychologists create abstruse explanations to account for the peculiar patterns in the research data. These explanations assume that the various patterns all result from the bizarre and impish behaviour of a single, coherent phenomenon they call psi. But it seems much more likely that the different patterns such as the experimenter effect, the decline effect, and the reversal of effect are due to a variety of different phenomena. The lack of a positive definition and test for psi does not allow the parapsychologists to rule out this possibility.

Moreover, the claim that these evasive patterns are unique to psi research is just not true. Throughout the modern history of science, individuals have claimed to have discovered anomalies which challenged the specific scientific programme within which they were working. Some of these claims, on further investigation, turned out to be based on solid, replicable evidence. These resulted in appropriate accommodations to the relevant theory. Other such claims ultimately could not be consistently replicated and now occupy the scrap heap of science. The proponents of these discredited claims defended the failure of consistency and replicability with arguments that resemble those of contemporary parapsychologists – experimenter effects, decline effects as properties of their claimed phenomena, reversal of effects, etc.

Conclusions

If the neoparapsychologists are correct, then parapsychology, as it was envisioned during its first 160 years, is dead. To the extent that parapsychologists continue their endeavours, they will do so without a phenomenon that can be scientifically demonstrated and measured. Hopefully, the parapsychologists and the scientific community can learn important lessons from this failure. The parapsychologists attempted to be scientific by using key components of scientific methodology, but scientific methods without a lawful, systematic and replicable phenomenon cannot be science. Because it is so obvious, philosophers and other commentators on science and scientific method rarely focus on the fact that most of the day-to-day effort of scientists is devoted to making sure that their findings are trustworthy, lawful, communicable, and independently replicable. This is the necessary ingredient. Without replicable phenomena, science cannot exist.

References

  • Article by Ray Hyman: “The Demise of Parapsychology, 1850-2009“.
  • Alcock, J.E. (2003). Give the null hypothesis a chance: reasons to remain doubtful about the existence of psi. In Alcock, J.E., Burns, J.E., & Freeman, A. (Eds), Psi wars: Getting to grips with the paranormal (pp. 29-50). Charlottesville, VA: Imprint Academic.
  • Bem, D.J.  & Honorton, C. (1994). Does psi exist? Replicable evidence for an anomalous process of information transfer. Psychological Bulletin, 115, 4-18.
  • Bierman, D. J. (2001). On the nature of anomalous phenomena: Another reality between the world of subjective consciousness and the objective world of physics? In P. van Locke (Ed.), The physical nature of consciousness (pp. 269-292). New York: Benjamins.
  • Broughton, R.S., & Alexander, C.H. (1997).  Autoganzfeld II: an attempted replication of the PRL ganzfeld research. Journal of Parapsychology, 61, 209-226.
  • Honorton, C. (1985). Meta-analysis of psi ganzfeld research: A response to Hyman. Journal of Parapsychology, 49, 51-91.
  • Hyman, R. (1985). The ganzfeld experiment: a critical appraisal. Journal of Parapsychology, 49, 3-49.
  • Hyman, R. (1994). Anomaly or artifact? Comments on Bem and Honorton.  Psychological Bulletin, 115, 19-24.
  • Jahn, R.G., & Dunne, B.J. (2008). Change the rules! Journal of Scientific Exploration, 22, 193-213.
  • James, W. (1960). The final impressions of a psychical researcher. In G. Murphy & R.D. Ballou (Eds.), William James on psychical research (pp. 309-325). New York: Viking. (Original work published 1909)
  • Kennedy, J.E. (2001). Why is psi so elusive? A review and proposed model. Journal of Parapsychology, 65, 219-246.
  • Kennedy, J.E. (2003). The capricious, actively evasive, unsustainable nature of psi: a summary and hypotheses.  Journal of Parapsychology, 67, 53-74
  • Lucadou, W.V. (2001). Hans in luck: The currency of evidence in parapsychology. Journal of Parapsychology, 65, 3-16.
  • Radin, D. (1997). The conscious universe: the scientific truth of psychic phenomena. San Francisco: Harper Edge.
  • Sidgwick, H. (1882). Presidential Address. Proceedings of the Society for Psychical Research,1, 7-12.
  • Utts, J. (1995). An assessment for the evidence for psychic functioning. Journal of Parapsychology, 59, 289-320. [Also available at http://anson.ucdavis.edu/~utts/air2.html]

An anaesthesiologist examines the Pam Reynolds story Part 2: The experience

This article originally appeared in The Skeptic, Volume 18, Issue 2, from 2005. It is the second part of a two-part series – read the first part here.

Having examined the background to the Pam Reynolds case, we can now turn to her experience itself. I will begin with the effects of anaesthesia on the body of Pam Reynolds. She underwent a major neurosurgical procedure in 1991. I have considerable experience of neurosurgical anaesthesia, and the technique of anaesthesia in all Western countries at this time was very standard. Pam would have undergone a standardised form of balanced anaesthesia with three different types of drugs – a technique that is still in use today.

Sleep-inducing and sleep-maintaining drugs: These may be the same or different drugs. After injecting a short-acting drug to induce unconsciousness, other drugs are administered to keep the patient asleep, or a continuous infusion of the same sleep-inducing drug could be used.

Powerful pain-killing drugs: Sleep does not mean a person does not feel, or react to pain – so powerful painkilling drugs are administered to reduce involuntary nervous system responses to pain.

Muscle-paralysing drugs similar to curare (deadly Amazon Indian arrow poison): Persons rendered unconscious, and who have been administered powerful painkilling drugs at dosages sufficient to prevent bodily nervous system responses to pain, are in a particular medical condition; they do not breathe because of the combined effects of the sleep-inducing and the painkilling drugs. Pain-killing drugs cause their muscles to stiffen, rendering even the remaining breathing insufficient. Furthermore, this combination of drugs still does not prevent bothersome reflex movements in response to pain. All these effects can be eliminated by paralysing every body muscle of these patients with curare-like drugs. This makes the work of the surgeon easier, and in some situations even possible when it would otherwise not be.

There is only one problem with such a combination of drugs: breathing stops totally. So the standard technique is to pass a 1-2 centimetre diameter tube through the mouth, through the vocal cords into the trachea (windpipe). An inflatable cuff around the tube within the windpipe ensures an airtight fit, and this tube is connected to a machine called a ventilator which performs the act of breathing for the patient. This is a perfectly normal and standard anaesthetic technique employed for many millions of operations all over the world each year. A person undergoing such a technique of anaesthesia does not breathe, does not move, looks and feels ‘absent’ – such a person at that moment is no more than a biological mechanism undergoing repair by a surgeon. It is the task of the anaesthesiologist to induce and to maintain this situation until the surgeon is ready, as well as to keep the patient alive in spite of all the effects of the operation performed by the surgeon.

Sometimes the concentration of sleep-inducing drugs within the bodies of patients undergoing such a form of anaesthesia is insufficient to maintain unconsciousness. So these people are awake – they hear what is going on around them, they feel the touch of the surgeon and others, and if their eyes are open, they actually see what is happening. But because of the powerful pain-killing drugs they feel no pain, and because of the muscle-paralysing drugs they cannot move, speak, or breathe. They lie still and unmoving while observing all that happens to them and around them. Subsequently, after recovering the ability to speak, they can give very detailed reports of what happened to their bodies and about their bodies during their periods of awareness.

This may sound amazing to some people, but everyone can test for themselves the quality of observations made by a person lying still with their eyes shut. Lie blindfolded on a bed. In such a situation you can quite clearly visualise what people are doing and saying in your immediate surroundings, as well as clearly visualise what is happening to your body. This is the situation in which Pam Reynolds found herself when she awoke at the beginning of her operation.

There is another fact that all students of the experience of Pam Reynolds should realise and understand with great clarity. Pam Reynolds could tell no-one about her experience until after the tube was removed from her windpipe after she awoke in the recovery room subsequent to the successful completion of her operation. During the period of anaesthesia and operation, until after the tube was removed from her windpipe, she could not speak. So her report of her experiences was a report of remembered experiences. This does not mean she did not undergo these experiences, simply that she had time to process and associate her sensations and experiences with her existing knowledge and expectations. An experience reported at the time it is undergone is sometimes quite different from a remembered report of the same experience.

Furthermore, the mental processes of Pam Reynolds were certainly affected by the pain-killing and sleep-inducing drugs when she underwent these experiences. After all, she was conscious during her experience, but felt calm, and felt no pain due to the operation – facts proving that her mental processes were affected by anaesthetic drugs during her experience. So an examination of the details of her experience reveals observational facts mixed together with the effects of the anaesthetic drugs, her own expectations and extrapolations, all welded together into a coherent and wonderful story.

Knowing these things gives background and perspective to her story, making it possible to begin with a step by step analysis.

Pam Reynolds was first put under anaesthesia, and the positioning and preparation of her anaesthetised body for surgery was commenced. This can sometimes be a time-consuming procedure for neurosurgical operations, but here there was also the necessity to prepare her for cardiopulmonary bypass. During this long preparation time, the effects of muscle-paralysing, pain-killing drugs, and sleep-inducing and maintaining drugs can decrease below what is needed to maintain sleep. Regular doses of these drugs need to be administered to maintain sleep, total muscle paralysis, and adequate pain treatment.

I commenced my career in anaesthesiology as a junior resident in 1977, and have seen medicines, techniques, and fads come and go. So the fact that Pentothal was used as a sleep-inducing drug for the anaesthesia of Pam Reynolds during 1991 indicates to me that the anaesthesiologist used a perfectly standard combination of anaesthetic drugs for that time. I used exactly the same drug combinations at that time too. The dosage of Pentothal used by anaesthesiologists to induce sleep keeps people asleep for about 5-15 minutes, after which sleep is maintained with other gases in the mixture of air pumped into the lungs by the ventilator. Her anaesthesiologist would have maintained sleep with nitrous oxide (laughing gas), perhaps together with a vapour such as isoflurane or enflurane which were in common use at that time. But Pam Reynolds was conscious at various times during her operation, indicating to me that neither isoflurane nor enflurane vapours were used to keep her unconscious.

surgeons performing surgery on a patient who is behind a privacy screen

The neurosurgeon began first. He made an incision in her head, and then began to saw the bone of her skull open with a pneumatic saw shaped like an electric toothbrush. The high pitched whining of the idling motor of this saw caused Pam Reynolds to awaken – this was the “natural-D” that she heard. She was awake but partially paralysed due to muscle paralysing drugs, and had a tube in her windpipe. So she could neither move nor speak. The powerful pain-killing drugs ensured she felt no pain, she heard people speaking and moving around her, she felt the touch and movements of the surgeons on and in her body, and she registered all these things in her mind. The effects of anaesthetic drugs caused her to feel calm. Malfunction of her brain caused by these same drugs, possible reflex minuscule twitching of her limb muscles, together with abnormal functioning of her muscle spindles induced the out-of-body experience. Chapters 10, 11, and 12 of Mortal Minds contains a detailed discussion of the physiology of out-of-body experiences, including those occurring under anaesthesia (Woerlee, 2003; see also Blanke et al., 2004).

The usual monitoring of her vital signs was used by the anaesthesiologist, in addition to which her electroencephalogram was monitored, as well as the response of her brain to clicking sounds in two earplugs (VEP = vestibular evoked potentials). (N.B. VEP measurement is a very useful indication of the depth of anaesthesia and the level of consciousness.) Some authors make much of the fact that she could hear everything, in spite of the fact she had earplugs feeding clicking sounds into her ears. My reaction to this is that of course she could hear what happened about her – proof of this is seen all about us. There are simply enormous numbers of people all around the world, wandering around, listening to loud music played through earplugs, who at the same time are able to hear and understand all that happens in their surroundings. And people under anaesthesia can hear things; otherwise this perfectly standard VEP monitoring technique would be useless as a measure of the depth of anaesthesia. So being able to hear, despite the insertion of earphones making clicking sounds, is nothing wondrous.

Some people also make much of the fact that the VEP monitoring did not signal that she was conscious. The truth about all monitoring such as VEPs, is that while such monitoring is generally very accurate, it is not 100% accurate. This is realised and appreciated by all experienced anaesthesiologists, who understand and must work with this humbling fact. So they always keep a sharp eye on their patients for other signs of awakening.

The story of Pam Reynolds also provides features allowing precise timing of some events. For example, the time of one period of awareness was given very accurately by what she heard one of the surgeons saying:

Someone said something about my veins and arteries being very small. I believe it was a female voice and that it was Dr. Murray, but I’m not sure. She was the cardiologist. I remember thinking that I should have told her about that…

Sabom, 1998

She was not on cardiac bypass at the time of her out-of-body experience, because the cardiothoracic surgeon was having trouble introducing the cardiac bypass machine tubing into the blood vessels of her right groin – the blood vessels in her right groin were too small for the size of the tubing and the blood flow needed for cardiac bypass. This means the cardiac bypass apparatus was not even connected to her body at this time. The cardiothoracic surgeon eventually used the blood vessels in her left groin. So at that time, Pam Reynolds had a normal heartbeat and body temperature, as well as the normal responses of a paralyzed person who was awake while supposedly under general anaesthesia.

Then we come to Pam Reynolds’ description of the pneumatic saw she observed during her out-of-body experience. Here again, it cannot be emphasized enough that her description of this episode was a description of a remembered event. After all, she could not describe these things at the time they occurred.

Furthermore, she knew no-one would use a large chain saw or industrial angle cutter to cut the bones of her skull open. She was 35 years old in 1991, the year of her operation. This means she was born in 1956, meaning she was a member of a generation of Americans blessed with excellent dental care. Pneumatic dental drills with the same shapes, and making similar sounds as the pneumatic saw used to cut her skull open, were in common use during the late 1970s and 1980s. Because she was born in 1956, a generation whose members almost invariably have many fillings, Pam Reynolds almost certainly had fillings or other dental work, and would have been very familiar with the dental drills. So the high frequency sound of the idling, air-driven motor of the pneumatic saw, together with the subsequent sensations of her skull being sawn open, would certainly have aroused imagery of apparatus similar to dental drills in her mind when she finally recounted her remembered sensations.

There is another aspect to her remembered sensations – Pam Reynolds may have seen, or heard of, these things before her operation. All these things indicate how she could give a reasonable description of the pneumatic saw after awakening and recovering the ability to speak.

Pam Reynolds’ mental processes were certainly affected by the anaesthetic drugs coursing though her body. This is proven by her absence of pain sensation during her operation, together with her sensations of mental calm. And while her mind was under the influence of these drugs, she described her mental state as more awake and aware than normal, with better than normal sensations. But her statement is no more than a typical statement made by a person whose brain is affected by medications, toxins, body waste products, or the effects of oxygen starvation. Observers see that the mental processes of such people are foggy, clouded,illogical, and disoriented – yet those affected by medications, toxins, body waste products, or oxygen starvation feel their thoughts and mental processes are clearer, that their minds function better, and that their perceptions are more acute than normal. In fact, they often feel wonderful. The mental effects of the anaesthetic drugs used on Pam Reynolds are similar to those of oxygen starvation:

Hypoxia (oxygen starvation) quickly affects the higher centers, causing a blunting of the finer sensibilities and a loss of sense of judgement and of self-criticism. The subject feels, however, that his mind is not only quite clear, but unusually keen. (Liere & Stickney, 1963)

This is why Pam Reynolds experienced her mental processes as better than normal, even though no-one else would say they were normal.

After exposure of the aneurysm, she was put on cardiac bypass and subjected to hypothermic cardiac arrest (her body temperature was lowered and her heartbeat was stopped). Her body temperature was lowered to 15º Celsius (60º Fahrenheit). This is a temperature at which all people are unconscious. So she was unconscious, and could therefore have no conscious experience during this period. Even so, she was able to remember some of what happened before her period of hypothermic cardiac arrest, because she was able to remember her “out-of-body experience” prior to the period of cardiac arrest.

A surgical procedure in process

Many people may consider this technique of hypothermic cardiac arrest as a wonderful and unusual technique. Yet it was one of several standard techniques for performing open heart surgery during the 1960s and the 1970s. If the body and brain are cooled to 15º Celsius and lower, it is possible to stop the heart and breathing, perform the necessary surgery, subsequently re-warm the patient, restore normal heartbeat, and the patient will suffer no brain damage, provided the duration of cardiac arrest is less than 45 minutes. The fact that the brain cooled to a temperature of 15º Celsius can survive a period of absent circulation for 45 minutes is not miraculous. Cooling reduces the speed of all chemical reactions, enormously reducing the metabolism of the brain and body, enormously reducing the requirement of the brain and body for oxygen and nutrients. This is a situation similar to keeping meat in a refrigerator – the cooler the refrigerator, the better the meat is preserved.

Was Pam Reynolds ‘dead’ during the period her heart was stopped? Very definitely not! Her body metabolism had simply been reduced to a minimal level. After all, cessation of breathing and cessation of heartbeat are manifestations of death, but are not death. True death is irreversible failure of all brainstem functions. For example, heart-lung bypass is a situation where people do not breathe and have no heartbeat, yet are very much alive, and may even be conscious (Woerlee, 2003, see chapter 2).

After successful removal of the aneurysm, the body temperature of Pam Reynolds was gradually increased to normal, and her heartbeat was restored. Blood flow and brain function returned during this period. Nonetheless, even though brain function was restored, Pam Reynolds’ brain did not immediately return to normal function. To begin with, her brainstem function recovered enough to restore consciousness – otherwise she could not have consciously perceived the dark vortex through which she passed to undergo a typically American near-death experience (NDE) during which she was guided and aided by deceased relatives (Osis & Haraldsson, 1986). Furthermore, the visionary content of her NDE was a product of her knowledge that the operation could possibly cause her death. I say this because during her NDE she saw deceased relatives who aided her, and guided her in the realm of the dead – features typical of NDEs undergone by people who expect to undergo a potentially lethal experience (Greyson, 1985).

Restoration and normalisation of normal brain function restored normal perceptions, and she awoke to the accompaniment of ironically appropriate music:

When I came back, they were playing Hotel California and the line was “You can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave.” I mentioned [later] to Dr. Brown that that was incredibly insensitive and he told me that I needed to sleep more. [laughter] When I regained consciousness, I was still on the respirator.

Sabom, 1998

She was awake, but paralysed by a muscle-paralysing drug – so she still could not move, breathe, or talk. She was indeed locked inside her body – she could not leave. Furthermore, she could not talk because of the muscle-paralysing drugs and the tube passed through her windpipe that was attached to the respirator.

She awoke later in the recovery room. Only then was the tube removed from her windpipe, and only then was she able to speak and tell all who would listen of her wondrous experience. And it was indeed a profound personal experience, but it was an experience whose roots lay in the functioning of her body, complemented by imagery nestling in the deepest reaches of her psyche, as well as the fact that she was awake for several periods of time during her operation.

What is very evident throughout this whole story of Pam Reynolds is the fact that she was conscious at several periods during her operation. This is likely a reflection of an interaction of her undoubted anxiety about the operation with the anaesthetic technique used. Anxious people are more difficult to keep asleep than are calm and relaxed people (Woerlee, 1992). Her mental functioning during her periods of awakening was very evidently influenced by anaesthetic drugs, her anxieties, as well as by the residual effects of low body temperature. And lastly, her story is a remembered account of experiences undergone while under anaesthesia. This last point is the most important aspect of this story. It means that her story is a product of her socio-cultural upbringing, her prior conscious and unconscious knowledge of the operation she was to undergo, her prior knowledge of all things medical, that which she consciously and unconsciously observed during her periods of awareness, the effects of anaesthetic drugs, low body temperature, surgery, her anxieties, and finally, her personality. All these things were unconsciously combined and integrated into a coherent story of a wondrous experience.

Nonetheless, experiences such as that of Pam Reynolds are experiences teaching each of us how little we know of ourselves and the functioning of our bodies. Careful and critical study reveals their true nature, each experience revealing more and more about the true and complex nature of the human behind the mask of normal consciousness.

References:

  • Blanke, O., Landis, T., Spinelli, L., & Seeck, M. (2004). Out-of-body experience and autoscopy of neurological origin. Brain, 127, 243-258.
  • Greyson, B. (1985). A typology of near-death experiences. American Journal of Psychiatry, 142, 967-969.
  • Liere, E. J. & van Stickney, J. C. (1963). Hypoxia. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
  • Osis, E., & Haraldsson, K. (1986). At the Hour of Death. New York, USA: Hastings House.
  • Sabom, M. (1998). Light & Death. Michigan, USA: Zondervan Publishing House.
  • Woerlee, G. M. (2003). Mortal Minds: A Biology of the Soul and the Dying Experience. Utrecht, The Netherlands: de Tijdstroom.
  • Woerlee, G. M. (1992). Kinetics and Dynamics of Intravenous Anaesthetics. Dordrecht, Netherlands: Kluwer.