Scientifical Americans

by Sharon A. Hill

  How-to …

  In addition to public outreach education, ARIGs compose their own handbooks and how-to guides, often publishing them as books. For these fields of study whose advocates openly state that there is not one “right” way to do things, there exist a great number of books on how to do such investigations. With some exceptions, these books are written in an authoritative voice but are self-published, lacking an editorial hand, of poor quality, and replete with scientific inaccuracies, outright mistakes and outrageous assumptions. It’s best to provide some examples. In one of the more readable, if logically vexing, handbooks Joshua Warren perplexingly states: “Ghostly activity is the most efficient link to scientific study of the concept of an afterlife” (Warren 2003: 115–16). This is news to the scientific community. Though the statement makes no logical sense, it does reveal the author’s belief in life after death. This belief tints the entire book which is marketed as an objective “how to” guide. Gibson, Burns and Shrader (2009: 43) discuss EVPs (electronic voice phenomena) as the most compelling evidence one can gather on an investigation since it shows “solid concrete interaction” with the paranormal. There is no scientific basis for such a claim and it conflicts with academic and parapsychologists who do not consider EVPs to be worthwhile evidence of anything. Formal research into EVPs is sparse and not promising (Leary & Butler 2015). To consider it as a form of ghost communication is a belief, not a fact. This same source (which is aimed at a teenaged audience) also suggests that psychics deserve notice since they are “right sometimes” (Gibson et al. 2009: 49). Such suggestions to young people forming their worldview are misguided. We all guess right sometimes; to jump to the conclusion that psychics should be taken as credible tools to interpret a situation via undiscovered sensory means goes far beyond what we know about nature. The authors, who claim a mantle of authority but have no academic credentials, give potentially science-minded readers an erroneous idea of the process of effective investigation and inquiry. A detailed review of these and other ghost-hunting guidebooks is presented in the Appendix.

  Many ufology and cryptozoology-themed books are, likewise, marketed to young readers and those without any scientific background. Typically, these books repeat unverified stories of famous “classic” sightings and eyewitness reports contained in previous books. Most mass market paranormal-themed non-fiction content provides mysterious stories without references, context, or critique. This is more akin to folklore than fact. Authors propose speculative and colorful “theories.” Though readers find such ideas interesting and entertaining, this is not good scholarship and these volumes are unreliable information. Guidebooks specific to cryptozoology include speculative details about potential flesh and blood creatures3 hiding from humans but leaving traces behind. A slew of self-published books exist that describe each author’s experience with cryptids and suggests the best ways to bring them close. Field work in cryptozoology typically means being able to spot anomalies in nature such as disturbed vegetation, constructed or manipulated objects (like branches or rocks), tracks and spoor. Regardless of how many “field guides” to find Bigfoot, lake monsters, and other cryptids are produced, no mystery monster will be discovered in this way. Such field guides oversimplify biology and ecology. The cover summaries promise that the creature you are looking for is out there to find if you just use this book. Ecologists and zoologists, trained to detect and document the presence of animals and to understand ecological systems, aren’t looking for cryptids. New species are more likely to be found among disregarded museum samples than out in the American forests. As with all other topics, you can find an array of opinion blogs, websites, forums, Internet radio and podcasts available on cryptids and supposed encounters ranging from outrageous fiction to science-based discussion by experts. Referenced, expert, zoology-based content for Bigfoot and other cryptid seekers is uncommon.

  UFO-related handbooks for investigators are rare, however those that claim to be research guides are almost universally written by authors who hold belief in the extraterrestrial hypothesis or that the government is covering up information. Podcasts and Internet forums such as Above Top Secret keep researchers and enthusiasts up to date on news and rumors.

  Reference books on fringe topics are available in a range from juvenile literature to dense, dry scholarly works that contain impenetrable prose and in-text citations. Some popular guidebooks suggest the best places to look for UFOs. Atlases and compendiums of haunted or “weird” places have sold reasonably well, likely boosted by television exposure to such places. An excessive number of paranormal nonfiction books written by amateurs for amateurs flood the market. The more scholarly publications produced by academic presses cost more and are held usually only by university libraries, limiting their usefulness to non-academics. ARIGs may sometimes derive their techniques from literature sources but it is more evident that their processes are based on following what they have seen on TV shows.

  Social Aspects and Potential Harm

  The social aspects of being in an ARIG are substantial, as I alluded to several times. Being part of a specialized group feels unique, exclusive and sometimes provides an extraordinary experience (Childs & Murray 2010). The participants can, without obtaining a degree of higher learning, become self-appointed authorities in a chosen field (Northcote 2007). Participation in paranormal themes and activities can be personally rewarding and is considered a “lifestyle choice” for many ARIG participants (A. Hill 2010).

  Socially marginal people are less likely to gain rewards from participation in organizations to the same degree as powerful members of society. They aren’t as likely to become leaders or be influential. But within an ARIG that anyone can start on their own, leaders bestow responsibility and titles to themselves—a ufologist, cryptozoologist, paranormal researcher, or a ghost hunter, as if it is equivalent to a profession. They have a sense of camaraderie with their fellow members as well as feeling at ease with others that share a unique interest without fear of ridicule. As people invest time and effort into a subject they are passionate about, they feel an increasing emotional investment (Stebbins 2007), perhaps even a sense of responsibility to pursue the topic. Fellow members can reinforce or enhance prior belief—Bigfoot is out in the woods and needs to be protected or alien spacecraft is visiting earth. Once a person becomes emotionally (or financially) invested in a field, it becomes increasingly difficult to extricate themselves from that circle even if evidence accumulates that you are on the wrong track. The “group” aspect can have an additional cohesive effect for keeping people involved in the subject, or it can lead to toxic dynamics within the group as members become disillusioned with the leaders or each other and exit.

  The ARIG participant may be seeking not only paranormal explanations but larger meaning in life (Bader et al. 2010; Northcote 2007; Booker 2009; Dolby 1979). Because of mundane jobs or lack of opportunity in life, we may find ourselves feeling unimportant or uninspired as society fails to provide a basic psychological need for a sense of importance and individuality. Sociologists recognized that an anonymous life, mundane job or missed opportunities contribute to ennui, a directionless feeling of unimportance. Wishfulness that a long-standing mystery will be solved or a desire for an experience is a strong impetus for ARIG participation. Acquiring what feels like hidden knowledge is empowering and, for some, is incorporated into how they construct meaning and make sense of the world (Jenzen & Munt 2013: 34). Religion scholars have recognized that such context can draw people towards alternative beliefs (Bader et al. 2010: 55). The same draw may apply to ARIG participants who seek a unique and powerful experience (Clarke 2012, Hess 1993; Bader et al. 2010).

  Ghost hunting as leisure activity existed as early as 1858 (Clarke 2012) though ghost stories have been part of our culture for thousands of years. Amateur research into paranormal topics is generally harmless to participants and their families (Potts 2004) but there are exceptions. Most ARIGs are diligent about obtaining permission to access pr
operty but a few careless curiosity seekers have engaged in unlawful trespassing and defacing or damaging property.4 Unfamiliar locations, restricted and remote areas, and abandoned buildings are rife with hazards, especially at night. In several instances, trespassers have been arrested, injured, and even died trying to experience the paranormal.

  ARIG sites mention, almost apologetically, the substantial costs (in time and money) associated with travel, undertaking investigations, and purchasing and maintaining the necessary equipment. ARIGs typically do not charge for personal investigations but may accept donations or do fundraisers to cover costs. Duffy (2012) found a median value of $1,000 spent by paranormal investigation groups per year.

  While there are a few unscrupulous characters in the Bigfoot, ufology, and ghost hunting communities out for personal gain, most ARIGs will expel those that cause trouble for others in the group or are participating for the wrong reasons, faking evidence, or otherwise threatening the integrity of the group.

  Indirect harm is possible when individuals become so involved that it interferes with a healthy lifestyle—financially, psychologically, socially, or physically. This is not unique to paranormal pursuits. A common pitfall is spending too much time on the activity or exorbitant amounts of money on supplies, travel, and equipment. Time and money are invested gaining worthless credentials from training classes or attending events. As with any hobby, there a risk that the participant goes too far, neglecting real world issues and making the activity an escape from reality, conformity, and routine. If they believe a breakthrough is just ahead, their ego may prevent them from letting go. Investment in belief to the degree that its importance overwhelms concern for health, safety, and providing for family is a possibility. Relationships and financial assets have suffered by misplaced attention to ARIG-related activities or individual determination to find “proof.” Krulos (2015) illustrates the potential relationship problems that may result from one partner’s involvement in a paranormal hobby to the dismay of the other. A textbook example of such a person was one of the most colorful and memorable Bigfoot hunters ever, Rene Dahinden (Regal 2011). After 40 years of searching, he had little to show for his efforts. “You know, I spent over 40 years—and I didn’t find it,” Dahinden said to Christopher Murphy. “I guess that’s got to say something.”5

  The belief in paranormal activity may be generally harmless but can also lead to association with dangerous beliefs such as curses, possession, or conspiracies which can be life-altering. A paranormal enthusiast can become so enveloped by the subject they can believe an evil spirit has followed them home, that Bigfoot is communicating especially to them, or that they are being watched by government operatives. Fringe beliefs may influence how individuals think about federal policy and laws, and how the government allocates funds for environmental protection, national security, or space exploration. Paranormal concepts become part of a worldview which can influence how the participant thinks about and behaves in other aspects of life.

  The most serious threat of all are those on the receiving end of ARIG involvement who have mental health or domestic issues. Most of the ghost investigators I’ve spoken with have stories of clients that are clearly in need of mental health assistance and do not have a solid grasp of reality. Those who state they believe they are being haunted, visited by Bigfoot, or abducted by aliens may have underlying problems that amateurs are not equipped to handle. ARIGs typically do not have access to professional psychologists to which to refer clients. While many ARIGs will steer clear of these types of situations, data is not available regarding how often investigators will exacerbate an illness or situation or cause the client to delay getting proper help.6 There are some ARIGs who attempt to screen claimants to determine if they are hoaxing or in need of other kinds of help (Krulos 2015). Any attempt by ARIG members to provide counseling or therapy is unethical and potentially illegal under certain laws against unauthorized medical practice. Especially in a situation where children are involved, ARIGs tread dangerously in advising clients and can be liable to legal recourse should something go awry. Considerable harm is created and situations worsened by ARIGs who tell distraught clients that they are plagued by demons, spirits, Bigfoot, or alien visitors. What if ARIGs miss an abusive scenario by misinterpreting it as a haunting or a possession? Anyone who diagnoses demonic possession and attempts exorcism risks mental and physical harm to the person. For ARIGs to involve themselves in these kinds of dangerous and emotionally-charged situations thinking they can fix what’s wrong is the height of hubris.

  7

  Science and the Public

  The gap of understanding between what amateur groups think it means to do science and the standards and goals that exist in the professional scientific community is unsurprising considering the paradox that Americans have with science. We admire it, we know it’s useful, but our grasp of how it works is weak. People like science … when it’s on their side. Based on decades of polling and surveys, especially that of the ongoing Science and Engineering Indicators reports produced by the National Science Foundation, as well as public feedback and cultural products, we know the general public does not understand scientific purposes, values, and processes. Most Americans have a difficult time explaining what good science is at all and accept a great deal of false or bad science as reliable. Instruction on formal science understanding and, more importantly, appreciation, is lacking in today’s typical school curricula. Most people don’t have a working scientist in the family. When faced with decisions in life that are (or should be) informed by science, the average person may not feel comfortable with accessing and deciphering scientific data and conclusions since most of the science we get comes from the press and media (Nelkin 1987). As a side effect of our lack of familiarity with good science, the public can be easily fooled by imitations of science. It’s a common marketing ploy to feature sciencey-looking things to sell products and services. A sense of science “authority” can be easily conjured by just a person in a lab coat (Toumey 1996).

  The gap between scientists and the public opened in the earth 20th century when “scientist” became a specialized profession and required extended study and a different lifestyle. The scientific community talks mostly to itself and has remained insulated from most public exchange. Unfortunately, that created a detrimental disconnect between science and the public. Scientists don’t talk to the public about their day-to-day work and its consequences very often or very well. C.P. Snow1 issued a sentiment in 1959 that still reverberates today, stating there were “two cultures” in academics—sciences and humanities—that couldn’t communicate with each other. The public sees “two cultures” across an even deeper chasm—academics versus non-academics or scientists versus amateurs. In the late 20th century, the facts produced by science and research became detached from the process that produced that knowledge. In popular media, especially television, we do not see represented the stringent method and specialized processes required for scientific conclusions (Toumey 1996).

  Science progresses on a path quite different from what the public sees. Regular surveys about the public understanding of science tell us that the non-scientist doesn’t comprehend well the importance of critical concepts like controlled trials, peer review, skeptical criticism, and holding provisional conclusions. People form their ideas about science from the input they get via basic education and popular culture. The scientific news and literature is very different from news and media meant for public consumption and it is not easily accessible to the public. Most of us get our news through sources that assume a non-specialist audience. These emphasize exciting or monetary aspects of the latest findings in science, disregarding or oversimplifying the amount of work necessary to reach the conclusion. This framing of science news, unfortunately, misrepresents the process and skews the public understanding of science.

  Public ideas about science have changed drastically over time. In the book Science Talk (2007), Daniel Thurs describes how Americans
call upon a reservoir of words, images, and ideas to define the nature of science. He notes that it is important to distinguish between how the public defines science and how science defines itself, which are very different things. In public discussion, science talk centers on the authority, boundaries and outcome of the process, not on the philosophy and methodology of science itself, the latter being concepts not generally emphasized in general schooling. Most Americans give little thought to science philosophy because they don’t need to. They won’t practice science but are interested in the results and benefits to them. The public idea of science is constructed by the public itself to suit its needs. So we would expect to see the popular cultural image of science/scientists as inconsistent with the scientists’ version.