The Three Christs of Ypsilanti

by Milton Rokeach

  Dr. Dung refused to sign saying that he will send his own note. Dung writes in his letter that I have fancy writing and that he doesn’t believe in my writing. However, his writing is so cheap that one feels like not reading it. Why Dr. Dung or Dung writes to you about me in such a manner? I know, he’s sick, there’s no doubt about it!!

  As one reads or peruses his letters or notes one perceives that he has no dexterity for writing. It is so badly written that one is tempted to let it go unread! … His letters are comical; one laughs at him, as one tries or endeavours to peruse his letters.

  Comical is it not? Yes, very comical!! Only a buffoon like Dung would write the letters that he writes.

  Glad I was of assistance to you, Dr. Yoder for the Flora and Fauna Commisson!

  Respected; Dr. O. R. Yoder M. D.

  Thank you Sir for your thankfull acknowledgement pertaining to my participation in the Fauna Flora Commission.

  The reason why I did not sign that letter that Mr. Joseph Cassel Sir wrote was because of the negative style cosmic fancy writing of his, I do not care for negative cosmics of neg. moral conscious unconscious infusion into writing; or things, whether gases, liquids, solids, rational, instinctive.

  Mr. Joseph Cassel Sir helped out in collecting of leaves, flowers; and also helped in holding of frame during assembly; and helped push the float.

  Respectfully; Dr. R. I. Dung Mentalis Doktor.

  It is now necessary to pause in our narrative in order to consider the question we asked ourselves as Carnival Day drew to a close: had the Flora and Fauna Commission and all the events surrounding it brought the three men closer together, as we had hoped? Our answer has to be that it had not. Getting the men to work together required an enormous effort on our part. We might have persuaded ourselves that it had produced some therapeutic effects, but we feel in fact that it did not. The co-operation among the three men was imposed from without; it was more illusory than real and produced no fundamental or even external changes in their feelings, attitudes, or dealings with one another. It is tempting to say that this state of affairs stemmed from the irreconcilable nature of the conflicts inherent within this threesome. But we doubt it; in all probability the three Christs would have betrayed similar difficulties had they been placed on the Flora and Fauna Commission with other patients rather than with one another.

  We did gain the impression, however, that the focus of the conflict centered in the character of Leon—the “leader” of this leaderless group. Leon’s underlying needs and actions always seemed to be far more important in determining the character of the group than Clyde’s or Joseph’s, and he “controlled” the group by virtue of the fact that it was he who typically took the initiative in setting its tone and tempo. Clyde and, especially, Joseph merely responded to Leon’s actions, thereby leading to further characteristic actions by Leon, and so on, in circular fashion.

  Leon demonstrated a compulsive need to immerse himself in activity (not only on the Flora and Fauna Commission, but in his work in the laundry and vegetable rooms), but on his own terms, that is, alone. He apparently found the demands placed on him by group work extremely burdensome. He would go to great lengths to remain within the group for the sake of satisfying whatever flicker of need still remained within him for human companionship. But genuine co-operation seemed to be more than he either needed or was capable of giving.

  Thus, Leon went along enthusiastically at first with Dr. Yoder’s invitation to work on the Flora and Fauna Commission, but within three days we found him going to fantastic lengths to transform the three-man project into a strictly one-man operation. When, in the early part of July, we undertook to revive the Commission, we experienced the same results—initial enthusiasm and expressions of desire to co-operate, followed by the usual quarreling between Leon and Joseph, in which the co-operation bogged down. Further efforts on our part to give the project continued guidance were thus stifled to the point of extinction.

  By the first of August it was apparent that we had learned all we were going to with this kind of experimental device. The Flora and Fauna Commission was dead as far as the three men were concerned—and the time had now come to explore another avenue, suggested by our theory for changing systems of belief and behavior.

  [1]These letters were actually written by me, with Dr. Yoder’s permission.

  [2]This combination of Leon’s real first name and his delusional last name was used in connection with a special confrontation procedure, directed specifically toward Leon, which we were undertaking at that time; he rejected the compromise name as firmly as he rejected his real full name.

  PART TWO

  CHAPTER XI

  THE PROBLEM OF AUTHORITY

  THE DISSOLUTION of the Flora and Fauna Commission marked the end of the first phase of our research. Before turning to the second phase, it is necessary to remind the reader that our interest in what happened from day to day to the three Christs of Ypsilanti stemmed, not from a specific theoretical concern with the nature of schizophrenia or paranoia as such, but from a more general concern with the nature of systems of belief and with the conditions under which such systems, especially closed systems, can be modified so that they are more open to the influence of experience, more in accord with social and physical reality, and more likely to reflect harmony between the inner needs of the self and the outer demands of society.

  The first phase of the study dealt primarily with one proposal, one technique designed to introduce conflict within a system of beliefs: confront a person with others who claim the same identity as he, thus producing a dissonant relation between his primitive belief in his own identity and his primitive belief that there cannot be more than one person who holds a given identity. The major reactions observed thus far in each of the three delusional Christs (and these reactions will be discussed more fully in Chapter XIX) may reasonably be attributed to the conflict-producing dissonance brought about by the confrontations, and the men’s reactions to these confrontations represent their efforts to reduce this dissonance.

  By the time the Flora and Fauna Commission ceased to function, it had become reasonably clear that the process of adaptation or reduction of dissonance was now more or less complete. The three Christs had adjusted to their new way of life; each in his own way had learned to cope with the others and with us. It was now over a year since they had been brought together. The novelty and shock of confrontation had worn off. Each one had formulated and stabilized a set of rationalized beliefs to account for the claims of the others, and these rationalizations were bolstered by a silent bargain and a standardized repertoire of rituals designed to avoid the tension-producing subject of identity. Moreover, Leon, the most articulate of the three, had—outwardly at least—renounced his Christ identity, thus ensuring a kind of peaceful coexistence which, though not ideal, was a vast improvement over the earlier warlike state.

  In the second stage of the research, we set out to explore a second avenue, suggested by our theory of the nature of systems of belief. It will be recalled from Chapter I that all systems of belief are assumed to contain four kinds of beliefs, ranging from central to peripheral: primitive beliefs, specific beliefs about authority, peripheral beliefs, and inconsequential beliefs. Our concern now was with those beliefs which have to do with positive and negative authority—with what sociologists call reference persons and reference groups—beliefs as to whom the individual should look to selectively for information about what is and is not good, beautiful, and true. Such selective beliefs about authority play a significant role in the life of every normal person for at least two reasons: they determine the content and structure of all the beliefs we have called peripheral, and they serve as guides to action.

  These beliefs about authority probably develop somewhat later in the child’s life than do primitive beliefs. In the beginning, all his beliefs are primitive ones; he is not capable of understanding that some beliefs are not shared by everybody. The young child’s mental capacitie
s and his experience are as yet too circumscribed for him to grasp the fact that he lives in a world in which there is controversy or even armed conflict over the questions of which authorities are positive and which negative, and which beliefs and ideologies associated with authority are the most valid. In the very beginning the infant looks to only one authority for information and nurture—his mother; somewhat later, his father. These parental referents are the only ones the young child has, and the concept that there are other positive reference persons is foreign to him, as is the concept of negative reference persons.

  As the infant grows toward maturity, one of three things can happen to his primitive beliefs:

  1. If they do not arise as subjects of controversy, many of them will continue to remain primitive throughout his life. As the child grows and broadens the range of his dealings with others outside the family, his authority base becomes gradually extended to include more and more people who can be counted on to know. Thus, should any doubt arise in his mind about any of his primitive beliefs—for example, whether today is Wednesday or Thursday—he can check it by asking virtually any stranger who happens along.

  2. Other primitive beliefs, however, may remain with him even if they find no social support. Through adverse experience, some primitive beliefs—both about the self and about others—may arise or become transformed in such a way that support from external authority is abandoned together. For example, a child may come to believe that he lives in a totally hostile world, or that he is unloveable, or, phobically, that certain heretofore benign objects or places are now dangerous.

  3. Finally, as the child deals with other people, he exposes his expanding repertoire of primitive beliefs to them and at the same time is exposed to the repertoire of their beliefs. Thus he may at any moment discover that a particular belief he had heretofore thought that everyone shared—belief in God or country or Santa Claus, for example—is not in fact universally accepted. At this point he is forced to work through a more selective concept of positive and negative authority.

  Two little boys, Sammy and Marty, both seven, are having a discussion, over milk and cookies, about God. Sammy says he believes in God and Marty replies he isn’t sure there is a God. Sammy says that everybody believes differently about God—some people believe there is a God and some people don’t.

  “But,” Sammy adds, “it doesn’t matter what you believe as long as it’s the same thing your Daddy believes. So I’ll go on believing there is a God.”

  “Yes,” Marty nods in agreement, “you’re supposed to believe what your Daddy believes. So I’ll go on believing that maybe there is and maybe there isn’t a God.”

  They finished their milk and cookies and go outdoors.

  I had eavesdropped on them as in their childhood innocence they discussed theories of authority (they agreed) as well as philosophical conceptions of God (they disagreed). This innocence is fated to be overlaid very soon with more “sophisticated” reasons for belief and disbelief.

  Clearly, Sammy and Marty were telling us about the “theory” of selective authority that guides them as they decide which beliefs to accept among a group of alternatives. It would seem that the concept of authority of each child has already expanded to the point where his Daddy is seen as a positive reference person and at least some other Daddies as negative reference persons. There may come a day when even one’s own father is rejected as a positive referent. But this day has not yet arrived for Sammy and Marty.

  With Sammy’s and Marty’s discourse still fresh in our minds, let us make several additional points. First, as was pointed out in Chapter I, belief in God, however passionately adhered to, fought over, or died over, is not, in our conception, a primitive belief inasmuch as it is supported by something less than total consensus; it has a primitive character only in exceptional cases—in, for example, a primitive society where everyone believes in the same God or gods, or among those relatively rare persons who would believe in a Deity even if this belief found absolutely no social support at all, even if it was entirely rejected by the rest of their community. Second, as with his primitive beliefs, the child’s base of selective referents for his peripheral or ideological beliefs is gradually extended to include other persons and groups outside the family—social classes, religious and ethnic groups, peer groups, and political and national groups. Third, and most germane to our immediate research, it is easy to imagine Sammy and Marty changing their beliefs about many things, provided these changes are preceded or initiated by changes in their referents.

  A number of findings and observations made by others seem to be consistent with the notions developed above. The social psychologist, Theodore Newcomb,[1] has reported that many girls at Bennington College became more liberal in ideology during their college years as a result of shifting their reference group from the family to the college peer group. It has been widely noted that members of the Communist Party in various countries of the world change their position about issues soon after similar changes of position emanate from the Kremlin, or if they cannot do so, defect or change their reference group. A devout Catholic holds the same beliefs about faith and morals as does the Church as a whole, and it seems reasonably certain that if the Catholic Church were to change its attitude about a particular issue millions of believers would change their attitudes in precisesly the same way. Bruno Bettelheim’s study of concentration camps suggests that Jews will develop anti-Semitic beliefs because they have changed their referents—that is, to preserve their identity and to survive physically, they will identify with the aggressor’s ideology.[2] Identification with the aggressor—that is to say, adopting one’s oppressor as a reference person or group—has been used to explain such phenomena as Jewish anti-Semitism and Negro Jim Crow.[3] Similar explanations have been offered for the success of so-called brainwashing techniques and thought reform in inducing ideological change in the prisoner-of-war camps of North Korea, in the prisons of China, and more widely, in the indoctrination of the youth of China in the ways of the People’s Democracy.[4]

  A particularly instructive example is reported by Robert Lifton in his study of thought reform among Westerners in Chinese prisons. He quotes one of his converted subjects, a Frenchman, as saying the following about de Gaulle:

  “Well, give him a chance. See what he can do. I was rather against him at first because I thought he was reactionary. Then someone said that Moscow was not against him because they thought he would break NATO. Since then I have not been so much against him, because Moscow had that opinion. If Moscow stands for de Gaulle, then I am for de Gaulle.”[5]

  On the basis of all the preceding considerations, the following hypothesis seems tenable: a normal person will change his beliefs or behavior whenever suggestions for such change are seen by him to emanate from some figure or institution he accepts as a positive authority. Either he will change his beliefs and behavior so that they conform with what he believes positive authority expects of him, or, if he cannot or will not change, he will alter his beliefs about the positive authority itself; he will become more negative or more disaffected with the authority and, in the extreme, he will even formulate new beliefs about new authorities to rely on.

  What has this theoretical discussion to do with our study of the three delusional Christs? How could these notions be applied to produce further changes in the delusional beliefs and behavior of our subjects? Many psychiatrists and psychoanalysts would agree that the severely regressed paranoid person has no external positive reference persons or groups; this is precisely why he is so difficult to treat. His delusional beliefs are unshakable because they are wholly without support by others, and this accounts for the secretiveness, seclusiveness, and solitary rumination so frequently observed in the patient with paranoid delusions. He knows that no one in the real world will accept his beliefs, so why communicate them and thereby risk subjecting himself to ridicule or to the stress of argument? Better, as Joseph said, to keep one’s mouth shut. Possibly because
the paranoid psychotic has been tremendously hurt by significant referents of his earlier life, he has renounced all positive referents outside himself. The only external referents he has are negative ones, referents to whom he looks in order to know what not to do; this accounts for the negativism so characteristic of the paranoid person. Since he looks to no one outside himself in a positive way, it is extremely difficult for the therapist, or anyone else for that matter, to say or do anything that would make a real difference. Psychoanalytic theory emphasizes that a basic prerequisite for positive change in the therapeutic situation is the capacity of the patient to form a positive transference relationship with the therapist—that is, the patient must establish the therapist as a positive referent. But in psychosis, and particularly in psychoses involving paranoid tendencies, a positive transference is deemed extremely unlikely[6] and for this reason the typical prognosis is, at best, “guarded,” and more usually, “poor.” The whole system of belief has become more or less primitive, including the normally nonprimitive beliefs about selective authority. Thus, since there are no positive referents outside the self, it is considered to be extremely difficult to contradict delusional beliefs from the outside. Logical persuasion by others is ineffectual since the person is beyond the reach of all external referents. His delusional system represents a closed network of beliefs designed, on the one hand, to make him completely independent of external referents—thus putting himself beyond reach and hurt—and on the other, to help him account for what he does, or understand why he feels as he feels, and why others refuse to recognize him for his true worth and instead persecute and mistreat him.

  If real external, positive referents are missing in paranoid mental patients—and this seems to be the case with Clyde and Joseph and Leon—then obviously it is not possible to initiate changes in their delusions and behavior through external referents. But this does not mean that these mental patients have no positive referents whatsoever. Again and again we were struck by the fact that the three men would mention certain referents to whom they obviously looked in a positive way. But these referents were either completely delusional or only quasi-real. Clyde, for example, frequently hallucinated and spoke warmly of someone called Gloria. a lifelong chum he had grown up and gone to school with. As has already been mentioned, Joseph told us from the very beginning that Dr. Yoder was his Dad. It is not unusual for the superintendent of a mental hospital to be so considered. Dr. Yoder told me that over the many years of his tenure as superintendent, patients had often referred to him as Father or Dad and sometimes had even gone so far as to ask him for a small photograph to carry around in their wallets or purses. In the case of Leon, there was at first his wife the Blessed Virgin Mary, and his uncle, George Bernard Brown, the reincarnation of the Archangel Michael. Later, of course, he transferred his affections to Mrs. R. I. Dung, or Madame Yeti Woman. In contrast to the negative things Leon had to say about all real human beings, he always spoke positively and warmly of his relations with these creatures of his imagination.[7]