Magic. Ghosts. Spirits. These are things that pop up in fairy tales and in children’s stories and tv shows & films. Sometimes even they’re debunked – for example in Scooby Doo (though I personally have never liked it) it’s always some guy with a mask and a clever contraption and some flashy chemistry – never a ghost. Never magic. Never paranormal.
Generally though, we accept these magical things in kids’ stories. Well, not if we’re Richard Dawkins we don’t, but I digress 
We accept them in fantasy fiction as well, even as adults, because we’re clear about fiction vs non-fiction; we know when we’re reading a fairytale and when it’s reality.
Don’t we?
Apparently not, given the widespread belief – among adults – in magic and ghosts. You know: those things that even Scooby Doo debunks.
I was in our lunchroom at work yesterday (somewhat unusual, but then again it was 2:30 or so, so I figure it was reasonable for me to have some lunch 
) and a couple of members of another team were in there. I didn’t stay long, but long enough to hear one of them telling the other – quite seriously – about someone she knew (not a patient) who supposedly sees spirits or similar.
This is a person who works in a psychiatric service. We treat people who see things. We give them antipsychotic medication. And these people were happily discussing someone who sees spirits – and accepting completely that this person did in fact see things that were actually there.
If someone told me they saw dead people my response would be along the lines of: “you should really see someone about that”. That’s not just because I’m an ebil psychiatrist either; most of my family and friends would have the same response. Nor is it that they’re all scientists, sceptics, or philosophers – most of them aren’t. It’s just that sensible rational people know that dead people are dead. Sorry. Game over. They don’t hang around to talk to mediums and psychics; they don’t hang around at all, as far as we have ever been able to ascertain.
And yet there are legions of people who have a different response, along the lines of: “let me open my wallet; you just reach on in there and have a blast. Knock yourself out. Then tell me my dead loved one is watching over me.”
Somehow these people forgot, or never learnt, what even young kids figure out: magic is a trick. Apparently supernatural things are simply things that the person experiencing them doesn’t understand. And the fact that Jim-Bob and Darlene don’t understand what made the real bright light outside their trailer doesn’t mean it was an alien spacecraft. Sure, it doesn’t mean it wasn’t, but is that really reason to believe it was?
That’s what really puzzles me: that so many people are ready to believe things for what seem to me such flimsy reasons. While I totally accept that there are many things we do not know with certainty, I do not understand why anyone’s response to that lack of certainty would be to believe in things that go against all science and reason – and in which even a child and Scooby Doo abandon belief.
I used to believe there was something to acupuncture. I had a reason for that: my grandmother (an intelligent rational person) studied and practiced it, and my parents (a science teacher and a psychiatrist) would press on the odd point when they had a headache or something. The thing is however, when I actually delved into it a bit more, I realised that it went totally against the scientific evidence, and I had engaged in special pleading in an attempt to reconcile it with the medical science I had learnt.
As a result, I Changed. My. Mind.
I realised the reason I believed was insufficient, and I therefore abandoned that belief in energy magic. The point of that little blither is that I guess I recognise that people have reasons for their beliefs, and as different people, we have different reasons for those beliefs. What I don’t get, is the inability (or unwillingness?) of many people to change their views. When presented with evidence against, their beliefs in various forms of magic don’t weaken in the slightest.
In fact, even where evidence is lacking for or against, I would argue the logical position is not to believe. Not to disbelieve, to believe it false … but simply not to believe.
But I guess that’s just me
I guess since I’m so comfortable with not knowing in an absolute sense, that I forget how distressing that seems to be for many people – which could well be why they cleave to doctrines or people that purport to have certain truth – or at least a certain-sounding reassurance. Logic and reality aren’t really in the reassuring business, unfortunately.
Personally though, I find the wonder wonderful, and think it sad that some others feel the need to clutter it up with magic.
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"Logic and reality aren’t really in the reassuring business, unfortunately."
That says it all really. Though, I don't know if it's so unfortunate. Life would be dull if we were all alike.
I don't believe in ghosts, but I do like a good ghost story
And that's why I disagree with Dawkins and his anti-fantasy notion. I think it's perfectly reasonable to be able – consciously – to suspend disbelief or enter into fantasy. I'm just perplexed when fantasy and reality start to blur – other than in the context of psychosis of course
Ghosts can be confusing. I mean, even the ones that don't exist. Don't go telling me I've got The Crazy, but this is… A True Ghost Story
Once upon a time, a family were entertaining themselves during an electricity blackout by telling stories by the fireside. The father told a story of his youth and the children listened.
“It’s a scary story” the father began, shining the torch on his face from below, casting the cliched ghost story shadows we all know so well. “Once upon a time, back in the olden days, the 60’s, two boys were playing on the beach near an ancient maori burial ground”
“Don’t tell the kids this story” interrupted the mother.
The father just laughed and continued. “The two boys names were John, and David”
“You and Uncle John?” Asked one of the children
“Yes. This is a true story. At the beach the boys found a skull that had tumbled down from the cliffs below the burial ground. John wrapped it in his jumper and the boys snuck it home with them in the car without telling there parents of the discovery. On arriving home they sneakily snuck it into the bedroom they shared, and sneakily stowed it under Davids bed. Being awfully sneaky boys, late later that night they sneakily snuck a candle and matches from the mantle and took them up to their room. They stuck the candle to the skull with wax, and lit it and chuckled to themselves with excitement. If there is one thing more exciting to find at the beach than buried treasure, it is an old skull.
The next day Nanna was cleaning the house, and on discovering a skull hidden under Davids bed she screamed loud enough to wake the dead. Luckily that is just a figure of speech and the skull remained dead as a doornail, which is quite as dead as an abandoned skull can be. Pop rang the police, and they came and took the skull away and had it cremated! That means burnt into ashes.”
“And then what happened?” Asked the son.
“Nothing, that is the end of the story.”
“It wasn’t very scary” Said the younger daughter
The children's aunt chimed in with a little superstition to spice up the unimpressive story. “The scary part is, that the skull belonged to the daughter of a great chief who is also buried upon the hill. For breaking the tapu those boys, now men will forever be under a curse and chased down by kehuas wanting revenge”
This part of the story was of course much more interesting to the children.
“What is a kehua?” Asked the son
“Have you ever seen a ghost?” Demanded the younger daughter.
“What kind of a curse?” Asked the oldest
But before any questions could be answered the mother snapped out “That’s quite enough! I don’t think you should be filling these children's heads with such nonsense.”
The children were very disappointed not to hear more on the subject. The house rules were that ghosts definitely did not exist yet were terrifying enough never to be discussed. The next story was a cute tale about three fluffy kittens, shortly after the electricity returned and the children were bathed and sent off to bed.
Lying in bed the eldest daughter could hear the noise of the storm. The wind breathed most mournfully through the branches. ‘It’s only the wind’ she told herself repeatedly. Even though it sounded like someone wailing in sorrow. Then rain marched across the old tin roof, drowning the sounds of the wind and the eldest daughter was soothed into sleep.
Her dreams were tangled and confused and frightening and she forced her eyes open, forced herself awake. The storm had ceased and the full moon shone clear through the open curtains. The room was light and she could see her sisters peaceful face resting on the pillow of the other bed. There seemed a shadow in front of the closed door of the room, for a second the eldest daughter was startled and then she remembered the jacket hanging from the hook on the back of the door.
She was about to close her eyes to go back to sleep when the shadow by the door moved. The eldest daughter suddenly felt her heart like gunshot, each beat as painful and loud. A harsh buzzing sounded in her ears that would to flow out through her body like pins and needles made audible and felt all over. Terrified she could not look away or move, and the shadow stepped into the moonlight. It was a tall figure cloaked in feathers, tattoos covered his face, a face twisted in anger and sorrow.
The figure spoke with a voice like a chainsaw echoing through a limestone cave “He took the head of my daughter, now she may never rest in peace, and so shall I take the head of his daughter, this is utu, this is revenge.”
And terrified as the oldest daughter was, she could not doubt that this was fair. She had felt the guilt of laughing at her fathers disrespect for the dead. And terrified as the oldest daughter was, she could not believe that this was a ghost for such things did not exist. Quite convinced instead it must be a real man standing there dead or alive. What can be seen with the eyes is hard to deny.
He raised his hands, striding towards her, standing between the two beds where the two sisters slept. His weapon was not the patu or tiaha she had expected, but the very axe her father used to chop firewood.
The eldest daughter closed her eyes in anticipation of death, yet in doing so there was no escape. The scene was clear as moonlight, eyelids closed or open. And the eldest daughter saw the axe fall, slowly, but instead towards her sleeping sister! Slow as the sunrise, slow as the fall of the last drop of golden syrup from a spoon.
The younger sister slept peacefully unaware. The eldest sister tried to move, tried to scream, tried to throw herself at the avenging intruder. Her limbs would not move, her breath would not come, frozen in a block of ice, panic built up her heart beat faster and faster, galloping hooves against the ribs, and all the while the slow syrupy descent of the axe towards her younger sister…
Almost had the axe hit, when the world shattered. Air rushed into the eldest daughters lungs and she could move and breath and the room was empty. ‘A dream, he’s gone, just a dream!’ she realised with such sweet relief. The moon still shone in through the window. Sweat drenched and too afraid to go back to sleep the eldest daughter lay with her eyes fixed on the lunar light. A movement in the room distracted her attention, she didn’t want to look towards the shadow of the jacket on the back of the door. But she didn’t need to. A furious tattooed figure stepped into her view.
Carrying an axe…
…but it was still only a dream.
The recursive dream scene played out again and again until the mother came in to wake the daughters for school. The eldest daughter dreamed she got up and fed the calves and had her breakfast. She dreamed she went to school with her brother and sister, she dreamed she came home and did her chores and homework.
And eventually the eldest daughter dreamed she grew up and got married and had children of her own and every so often she dreamed of ghosts but mostly she dreamed she lived happily ever after.
O_o
Longest. Comment. Evah.
I'm not sure if this ones longer hehe
Scary ghost stories aside, I did have something vaguely sensible to say, it’s just taken me a while to get round to it. When you say you have a thursday-thing-you-don’t-understand and it’s something I think I do understand, I think it only fair I give you my explanation, even if is not a very good one.
How can rational sensible people believe in the existence of ghosts?
This is a tricky question because no two rational sensible people are alike. But if I’m going to give a generalised question a generalised answer I’d say there are 3 main reasons
Comfort
Culture/upbringing
Personal Experience
Some people may want to believe in ghosts, spirits, souls, afterlives etc because to them it is a much nicer alternative than the thought that when you are dead you are dead. This is a fairly obvious reason that you’ve already covered so I won’t go much more into it.
Culture and upbringing is probably a more difficult one for you personally to relate to. You’ve mentioned you come from a background of a rational logical thinking atheist family. You’re probably a minority, at least among the people I know. And speaking for myself, I was raised christian. And like you changed your mind about acupuncture I changed my mind about religion and yet there are many people who don’t change their minds about whatever illogical beliefs they’ve been brought up with, ghosts included. So why don’t they change their minds? I’d say for the most part they are given no real reason to do so.
I’m gonna go off track for moment…
One of the reasons humans have become ‘smarter’ than other animals (at least many humans think so haha) is the way in which we are able to teach our young. Language gives a huge advantage, you can explain abstract ideas, you can give advice, directions. Picture the difference between how a man-cub is raised and how a lion-cub is raised, verbally verses physically. But as great as this way of learning is, it does have its minor drawbacks. A lioness can not lie to her cub because she can not speak. Human parents ‘lie’ to their children all the time without even knowing. And by lie, I just mean tell their children things that are less provable than a dead zebra. Ideas like time, right and wrong, rules, ideas that only exist if you believe in them.
But children can learn these important abstract ideas because unlike a lion-cub, human children learn language and believe what they are told, not only what they see. When you’re very young it is very easy, you believe what you are told. 7:00 is bedtime, you can’t have any pudding if you don’t finish your dinner, your budgie went to heaven etc.
When they get a bit older it’s slightly more complicated, other kids at school, teachers, all kinds of outside people start to tell them contradictory things. Some of these things must be true and others not. Human children form the abstract ideas of truth and lies, which to be honest are something of a ‘lie’ themselves, they can’t be said to exist outside of ones head!
And this process continues as they grow, and we get adults who still are being told contradictory information from all sides and must decide for themselves what is good information and what isn’t.
So how do we decide what is true and what is not? A lot of it will be based on who the information has come from. Someone we trust who usually tells us things that match up with our own experience of what’s true, their information on a new subject will probably be believed. Whether new information will be believed on an old subject we think we already know about, could be a different story. But it will at least get us thinking. Where as someone we don’t know from a bar of soap telling us the same contradictory information would possibly just result in us thinking they are misinformed. An idiot even.
So if I believe in, lets say, wolves. And I have believed in them my whole life though I’ve never seen one, but I have seen pictures of them, heard stories about them both fiction and supposedly non-fiction, and practically everyone I know believes wolves exist, and there are books on wolves in the library, why would I stop believing in wolves just because someone says they don’t exist?
Logically speaking, I’d be better off not believing in wolves if I’ve never seen one. But logic aside, I think it’s highly likely they do exist.
Now replace wolves with ghosts and you can see how someone sensible and rational can still believe in ghosts if they have been brought up believing in them.
But let me tell you a secret, after believing in wolves all my life, quite recently I have seen a wolf. At the Abu Dhabi zoo jan 2009 I saw a wolf for the first time.
And the final part of my argument may be that many sensible people do not just ‘believe’ in ghosts, but are certain of their existence because they too have seen them with their own eyes.
Perhaps to a psychiatrist the most obvious reason for seeing ghosts, is having The Crazy. It’s probably not a pc term, but I quite like it anyway. Since you’re a psychiatrist and I am not, I’ll leave that explanation up to you.
But other reasons,
Seeing what you expect to see
vivid dreams
‘sensing a presence’
On a dark night in a spooky place, when you expect to see a ghost you just might. Eyes work only so well, and the brain interprets what we see. Someone who believes in ghosts is probably less likely to think ‘oh it’s just a shadow’ but be able to make out the illusion of a face. Heres a personal example of the exact opposite…
I was staying at a friends house and I couldn’t sleep. I got up and went outside for some air because it was very stuffy inside. It was quite spooky outside, lots of bare branched trees swaying in the wind, and it was nearly pitch black as well. No moon, no street lights. I was walking down the driveway when I thought I saw a human figure near the gate. Just my imagination I thought, then as I got closer I saw there was definitely something there. Told myself I was being silly and peered at it in the dark. At last saw it was just the letter box. I could even see the handle, so I thought. And so I walked on towards it and as I was about to go past it turned and said ‘Hello’ and I almost screamed. It was my friend who also hadn’t been able to sleep. There was not a letterbox in sight!
To me, the fact that my non-crazy brain (everyone thinks that don’t they) tricked me into seeing what I expected to see makes me think it’s likely that other peoples non-crazy brains do the same. If I believed in ghosts I might have been seeing faces in the branches before I even got as far as the figure by the gate.
And then theres the taking the ‘seeing what you expect to see’ to the next step and actively looking for ghosts and spirits. Some ‘mediums’ do this in dark mirrors, pools of ink, and while I still maintain there is no such thing as ghosts, I think it’s highly possible some ‘spiritualists’ and such are not just out to rip people off but genuinely trick their brains into seeing what they want to see, and honestly think they are helping people.
Dreams are somewhere memories of deceased relatives can show up. If people think these are ghosts it further proves to them the existence of ghosts, and perhaps makes them more likely to take on a ‘ghostly’ role in the dreams.
Exceptionally vivid dreams and dreams-with-a-dream it can be difficult to know you are dreaming. Especially if you fall back asleep afterwards, and then wake up in the morning remembering having woken up in the night and interacted with a ghost in that very room in which you are sleeping. Happens to me all the time. Lucky I don’t believe in ghosts or I might find it all quite convincing…
‘Sensing a presence’ is how I’ve heard people describe the prickly sensation down the back of your neck you get when a ghost is near you. It’s the hairs standing up on the back of your neck out of fear not out of ghost-sensitiveness. But if you believe in ghosts I guess it’s as good a explanation as any other.
In conclusion:
I have written 1500 words of drivel and still probably not convinced you that people who believe in ghosts are neither stupid* nor crazy** but simply ‘differently informed***’.
No matter how illogical ghosts are, people are only likely to change their minds about their existence if they have a positive reason to do so. In fact, I think it must be far easier to start believing in ghosts than to stop, because in overimaginitive people ghosts are (dare I use such a misnomer?) self-proving.
*Not that you said they were
**Not that you really said they were that either. At least, not directly
***Which is a term I made up last time someone called me stupid. Though I forget why anyone would ever do such a thing of course
Yes, that probably is longer
Excellent though – thank you
I agree with what you've said, but I think it would be great if we could get more people to think more clearly and rationally, and realise just how often our senses and gut feelings betray us.
And I think you get the best analogy ever prize, for "less provable than a dead zebra"