That is what generally happens, but not always. There are several things that distinguish Walton’s experience from the vast majority of reports. Firstly, Walton is able to remember part of his time in the craft without undergoing hypnosis. However, the totality of Walton’s memory for the five days that he was gone is only about 45 minutes; but it is still a remarkable incident in UFO history. Secondly, the majority of UFO abduction reports come from the individual abductees themselves and are nearly impossible to authenticate and verify. In Walton’s case, however, there were six eyewitnesses who saw the craft and saw it render Walton unconscious, there was an immediate police report, a massive manhunt, national media attention, and several polygraph tests, thus making it, by far, the most documented alien abduction case in history. It should also be noted that Walton’s experience is one of very few cases, if not the only case, in which the individual was shot with some kind of “ray” (it is difficult to say whether or not something is “the only” case due to the number of different stories and the inability to verify those stories).
What is truly remarkable, however, is not how Walton’s case was unique in ufology, but rather how it was similar. One of the arguments for the reality of the alien abduction experience is the similarity of the reports, particularly the descriptions of the alien beings. Walton described the beings as humanoid creatures under five feet tall with large eyes and some kind of clothing or jumpsuit. They did not speak but communicated nonverbally (many claim that the aliens communicate with them telepathically during the experience). However, one of the most uncanny and intriguing aspects of abductee stories is the way they describe the flesh of the alien creatures. Walton described the creatures’ flesh as “white, marshmallowy-looking.”31 Hopkins, in his book, Missing Time, writes,
The list of examples can be extended many times over, but centrally important is the sense one has of honest, frightened people trying to be as precise as possible about what they saw. They were taken by humanoid creatures whose skins were whitish-gray in color and disturbingly soft looking, like a mushroom, or a marshmallow, or like putty. These three images denote consistent textural, coloristic, and kinetic qualities, all apart from the repeated description of the figures being between four and five feet tall.32
It is also interesting to note that other abductees have claimed to believe that the smaller alien creatures were, in fact, afraid of them and they also describe the creatures as wearing some kind of clothing or suit. The metaphoric descriptions of these creatures by the abductees are the most chilling and believable aspects of the abduction stories because they are not horrific, nightmarish, grandiose, or something out of Star Wars, but rather they are so plain … and therein lies the horror.
Furthermore, Walton’s description of being rendered powerless and examined in a medical fashion, and his description of the inside of the craft, is strikingly similar to many other reports from around the world. Many abductees report “experiments” being performed on them, medical tools being used, and in some cases actually having minor surgery performed on them.
Obviously, Walton’s story, along with the countless others, are very difficult to believe, and many skeptics have offered explanations as to the Walton case being a fraud, but they run into difficulty. One explanation is that the men were all using LSD when they witnessed the UFO, and Travis merely wandered off into the woods and then popped up again five days later after going on a bender. Firstly, Travis claims that he never in his life used LSD and did not drink. Secondly, it is difficult to envision seven men having the same, simultaneous, drug-induced hallucination and then being clear enough to talk to the police a couple hours later and pass polygraph tests. This theory also does not account for Travis’s missing five days; no one saw him, no one served him in a bar or saw him on the side of the street—he was nowhere to be found. Some claim that he was hiding, but why? And from what?
Another popular theory among skeptics is that Walton’s friend and boss, Michael, invented the story as a way to get out of his contract with the Forest Service through the “Act of God” clause. Common sense dictates, however, that this would be the stupidest story to tell in order to invoke such a clause; it is impossible to prove and nearly as impossible to believe, and proving it legally would mean having to prove the existence of aliens—a fairly large order for any defense attorney. Also, Michael never tried to invoke that clause with the Forest Service contract. While some people have tried to use the paranormal in legal matters, the paranormal is a notoriously bad defense. In Connecticut in 1983 a man pled innocent of murder due to demonic possession. The judge promptly threw out the plea.
Lastly, there is the matter of publicity and money; Walton’s tale was all a hoax to generate publicity and, in turn, money. Walton did, in fact, accept the National Enquirer’s help in exchange for his exclusive story, and he did immediately seek out UFO organizations rather than heading straight for the local hospital and the local authorities. If Walton wanted to be believed, this was the worst way to go about it, because these actions call into question his integrity upon returning to Snowflake, Arizona. Hindsight may be 20/20, but Walton claims that he and his brother took these actions to protect him from the media and allow him ample time to recuperate after the ordeal; unfortunately, from an objective, commonsense standpoint, it smacks of hoax. Travis claims that he was not wise to the way that this incident and his subsequent actions would be viewed, but it is difficult to simultaneously accept that people in Snowflake are as wise and open as the rest of the world while he invokes the “I didn’t know any better” excuse. That being said, the story was backed up by several polygraph tests administered to everyone involved, which repeatedly showed that they were being truthful.
Travis did make money on the incident … eventually. It was 20 years after the incident that the film was finally made, and while Travis did enjoy a bit of fame—appearing on television specials devoted to the paranormal—he also enjoyed a great deal more ostracism and humiliation, as well as personal attacks in the media from skeptics and believers alike. He lost touch with nearly everybody involved, and he and his best friend, Michael, had a falling out that lasted two years. Travis never became wealthy or even particularly well off, and despite his expense-paid trip to Oregon to see the filming of Fire in the Sky and hobnob with the B-grade actors, he never really took much away from the incident. Overall, the results of this incident left him as powerless on earth as he was in the spacecraft. Therein lies the difficulty with the hoax theory … nothing was gained and much was lost. Travis lost his ability to control his own fate and destiny. If it were a hoax, he would have been much better off to admit it early on and return to a somewhat normal life that was within his grasp and outside of the targets of many of the skeptics, believers, and slanderers that continue to sight Travis in their crosshairs. Regardless of the reality of Walton’s story, questions could and should be asked: “Was it worth it?” Was the truth, one way or the other, worth it? Judging by the tone of his book, Fire in the Sky: The Travis Walton Experience, it seems he may answer in the negative.
Walton’s experience runs the full gamut of the paranormal experience turned Hollywood. Stories are coopted, names are changed to protect the innocent, drama flares, and special effects are exaggerated. What’s more is that his story encompasses a wide range of intersecting agendas, viewpoints, and emotions. His story shows the paranormal at its most extreme. The stakes of his story were high—the only verified and witnessed UFO abduction in history, and all the players came off the benches to have a swing at it, which is why it persists today. His story shows the collision of paranormal groups and believers with skeptics, with the media, and with a small-town population; the equivalent of four cars smashing into each other while speeding through the same intersection. One of the reasons that Walton’s story is important, whether or not it is empirically real, is because it gives us a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see all these factors collide and collude and ultimately show the chaotic, ambiguous
nature of the American paranormal experience.
In his assessment of the state of horror fiction and film from 1950 to 1980, Danse Macabre, Stephen King wrote, “Terror often arises from a pervasive sense of disestablishment; that things are in the unmaking.”33 Horror films, the genre of which these three films certainly occupy, try to create this terror. Nearly every film that uses the paranormal falls into the category of horror with the exception of the fairly lame and unwatched films about angels and ghosts who try to make people fall in love. If the essence of terror is that “things are in the unmaking,” then the “true” story is an easy shortcut to reach that terror. Typical horror films aim to create this apocalyptic fear through fiction, but what if it isn’t fiction? What if it is true? Good horror films can often comment on society while inspiring fear. “I believe that the artistic value the horror movie most frequently offers is the ability to form a liaison between our fantasy fears and our real fears.”34 However, the “true” horror film takes the horrors of fantasy and tells us that they are real and true and something we should fear. But why do we believe what they say? Why are we willing to accept a little girl possessed by demons, a house that is haunted by evil spirits, and beings from another planet that abduct and perform experiments on a young man? Why do we tolerate the “true” label and let these stories sink into our collective mythology? The films may be touching something more primal in our humanity—the sense that things are in the unmaking, that there are things more powerful than mankind and that our technology cannot save us. In a world where there is more than enough to fear from violent crime, terrorism, nuclear war, and so on, many of us find our true fears are more spiritual than physical; the fear that our construction of the world is an illusion, a façade over something greater, more powerful, and more sinister. Perhaps H. P. Lovecraft’s tales meant a bit more than just fantasy/fiction—indeed, they ended up forming their own mythologies. Likewise, the “true” horror film forms its own mythology, passed down from generation to generation, talked about over campfires and in schoolyards. The legends of the terror live on and this may, perhaps, be the most “true” part of these tales—their ability to strike the heart of the viewers and cast upon them their spell for generations. Not because we are told they are true, but because we feel that they are true.
CHAPTER 11
A Lack of Faith
Gallup reported in 2011 that approximately 92 percent of surveyed Americans believe in God.1 However, ReligiousTolerance.org noted that only about 40 percent of those actually attend weekly church services.2 That leaves 62 percent of a population that has belief and faith in a spiritual world that exists beyond our common reality but do not practice any ritual or dogma to celebrate it. Religion, by its very essence, is related to the paranormal. Religious belief is, by definition, paranormal. In the Christian religion, believers accept by faith that God, in human form, was born of a virgin, completed numerous miracles in his lifetime, had thousands of followers, and was then crucified and rose from the dead. Paranormal is defined as that which is outside of normal accepted reality and is without explanation. The story of Christ certainly fits the mold.
Christianity also postulates absolute evil and absolute good, defined as Satan and God, and that both are at work in this world. Thus, miracles and disasters, charity and murder, being born again and possessed by demons are all at work in the real world, and it is the believer’s role to play an active part in one of those two sides. Thus, there are religious services and black magic rites, calls for prayer and witches’ spells. The world is a spiritual battleground of opposing forces, and we are right in the middle.
More importantly, however, is the nature of religious belief, which binds it to the paranormal. It is the belief that there is a reality beyond the one we see before us—as if our day-to-day reality is a veil that can be lifted to reveal the ultimate truth. If there is a spiritual world and an afterlife, then our limited, mortal world is merely a prelude to the grand truth. As people seek out this truth in their lives, many will find the church, while others will pursue alternative avenues such as New Age practices and mysticism, cults, ghost hunting, and, sometimes, witchcraft and Satanism. These are all forms of faith in an ultimate reality that is separate from the earth. If 92 percent of the population readily admits to there being a spiritual realm, then 92 percent can readily take the next step to belief in ghosts, demons, UFOs, and Bigfoot. The terms of many Christian faiths, in fact, enforce the belief of demons, witchcraft, ghosts, and UFOs. They are part and parcel of the same ideology; the belief in something more than the material world.
The belief in the spiritual world is far more ancient than dogmatic religion, thus making the paranormal far more ancient than modern religion. But as religion developed, so did paranormal beliefs; and as science developed, religion and the paranormal sought to reaffirm that their faith was true. The paranormal and religion were formed, not by what was known and understood, but by that which was not understood and outside the realm of human knowledge. However, as scientific and technological knowledge increased, religious beliefs either faded or had to be reinvented to accommodate this new knowledge, a process that still continues today. Copernicus’s assertion that the earth revolves around the sun rather than vice versa set off a firestorm of religious upheaval and anger. However, in the aftermath of his discoveries, the religious world had to adjust its thinking and rationale. These discoveries also resulted in a power upset for the religious world, in that their assertions of the natural scientific realm were suddenly banished and the church had to relinquish some of its powerful hold over society.
Something quite similar occurred, and is still occurring, with Darwin’s On the Origin of Species, perhaps the most significant and influential work on the religion-science dichotomy in history. Over one hundred years later, science and religion are battling over the teaching of evolution and creation in the classroom. The church has been scrambling to find new ideas in order to adapt to the overwhelming evidence that is presented in support of evolution. Hence, the intelligent design theory has been put forth as a means of incorporating both belief in a creative power and evolution.
Evolution has, rather quickly, become accepted as scientific fact; however, it still remains a theory open to change. The difficulty with a scientific “fact” is that the rapidly changing world of science offers a litany of theories that are quickly labelled as fact, sometimes by the media and sometimes by the scientific community itself, but are then proven untrue and are quickly revised. In this technological time, these facts and subsequent revisions occur so rapidly that faith in science can often be fleeting and difficult for the public. Religion, on the other hand, has remained fairly consistent over thousands of years with minor revisions being made to the overall idea that there is a God and his spirit is at work in the world. It is much easier to have faith in an idea like that than in quarks, quasars, antimatter, and dark matter.
Likewise, paranormal beliefs that posit a world of truth beyond the one we know have had to change and adjust throughout the years. But the seemingly acausal belief that there is something unseen is much more familiar and easier to believe than much of what science can offer, largely because the belief that there is something greater than ourselves is an intrinsic feeling. As man grows and develops in the world, both ancient and modern, he looks upon reality and senses that there is something more than what is seen, that in all this complexity there must be a benevolent order that precedes it all. Some believe that order to be physics and others believe it to be spiritual; either way, both are searching for that underlying truth. With every genome that is sequenced or galaxy that is discovered, the scientist seeks to unravel the underlying order to the world. Likewise, the believer seeks the spirit and tries to find the intricate dance of day-to-day life in the conjuring up of ancient rituals that have been passed down through thousands of years.
THE MAGICAL AND MIRACULOUS ORIGINS OF FAITH
The idea of gods—of forces greater than our ow
n—probably originated with the very first lightning strike. Natural forces, which were well beyond their level of comprehension and technology, beset early humans. Hence, the unexplainable became the magical or miraculous. Forces were controlled by gods rather than weather patterns and by spirits rather than plate tectonics; the world was a place of action and movement that was beyond the comprehension of man. These things inspired fear and a belief (rightly so) that there were forces at work greater than man’s that could not be comprehended or explained. Paul Kurtz writes in his work The Transcendental Temptation, “The fundamental premise of those who believe in a magical-religious universe is their conviction that there are hidden and unseen powers transcending the world, yet responsible for what occurs within it … Ancient peoples were troubled by seemingly inexplicable occurrences. At first they attributed them to animistic causes, believing that material objects and animals have an inner spiritual consciousness like ourselves, which was separable from the body and had causal efficacy.”3 Hence, if everything had a soul similar to our own then it would behoove early man to try to appeal to those spirits in order to ensure his own survival, in that the effects of appealing to the gods or spirits could be experienced in the real world. Max Weber writes in The Sociology of Religion, “The most elementary forms of behavior motivated by religious or magical factors are oriented to this world … Even human sacrifices, uncommon among urban peoples, were performed in the Phoenician maritime cities without any otherworldly expectations whatsoever … Thus, religious or magical behavior or thinking must not be set apart from the range of everyday purposive conduct, particularly since even the ends of the religious and magical actions are predominantly economic.”4 In other words, magical-religious thinking and practices were used to appeal to the unseen forces to ensure good hunting, a good crop harvest, rain, warm weather, and so on, so as to better ensure survival. As society and technology developed—the domestication of animals, irrigation of crops, and better soil utilization—people were less dependent on magical-religious beliefs to ensure their survival. However, people were still faced with a litany of unexplained phenomena such as earthquakes, volcanoes, disease, famine, and war. Religious appeals were used to a great extent to ensure victory in war and deliverance from famine and disease.
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