About face

When the topic of the paranormal comes up, I'm sometimes asked how I can be so sure that (fill in the blank: ghosts, cryptids, psychic abilities, the afterlife, extraterrestrial visitations/abductions) don't exist.

The answer is: I'm not sure.  Proving a negation is pretty close to impossible.  How, for example, could you prove that unicorns don't exist?  "I've never seen one" is pretty weak.

After all, I've never seen a wombat, and I'm pretty sure they exist.

To me, all that stuff boils down to probabilities based on rational evaluation of eyewitness testimony combined with what we know to be true from science.  What I mean by this is if you take all the sightings and personal accounts, and look at them with a coldly skeptical eye, you can come up with a good estimate of how likely the claim is to have at least a kernel of truth.  This is why I've always been more inclined to take cryptid sightings more seriously than UFO sightings, and UFO sightings more seriously than claims of psychic abilities.  None of them have any hard evidence in their favor.  However, there's nothing inherently impossible about the existence of Sasquatch and his buddies, while there's at least a good argument for the unlikeliness of alien intelligence making its way across the vastness of interstellar space; and even that is more likely than psychic abilities, which not only have no known mechanism by which they could occur, but have been tested to a fare-thee-well and thus far have not given a single positive result in any sort of controlled experiment.

So: it's not that I'm certain any of those don't exist.  All I'm arguing is that thus far, a skeptical analysis leans heavily toward the "no" side of things.

Sometimes, though, you can argue implausibility based on the number of claims made, and that works in an odd sort of fashion.  If there are a great many claims but still no hard evidence, that's a pretty strong indicator there's nothing there.  This is one of the strongest arguments against the existence of (for example) Bigfoot.  The claims of Bigfoot sightings easily number in the thousands; if the things are that common, surely by now there would have been at least one unequivocal bit of hard evidence in the form of bones, teeth, or hairs that don't match any known species.  So here, the more claims there are, the less likely they are to be about anything real, and the more likely they are to stem from suggestibility or outright fakery.

As an example of this, take the piece that appeared yesterday over at the site Mysterious Universe.  Brett Swancer wrote an interesting account of some claims being made on Reddit by a guy who goes by the handle @searchandrescuewoods.  The gist of his posts, which have gotten a good bit of buzz in the paranormal claims community, is that there's a faceless entity stalking the woods, freaking out hikers and (possibly) being responsible for several cases of abduction.  Swancer does a good job pulling together the stories, and I don't want to steal his thunder -- you really should read the article, although preferably not when you're alone at night -- but I will quote one of them, just so you get the flavor.  This one was told to @searchandrescuewoods by a friend who had been tasked with repainting an information sign on a woodland trail.  He was standing on a ladder working when a man came up asking for directions to a nearby campsite:

The second he came up and talked to me, the hairs on my neck stood up, but I wasn’t sure why.  I just had this really uneasy feeling about the whole thing, and I wanted to finish painting and get out of there.  I figured maybe part of it was that I couldn’t turn around to look at him, but something just felt off...  So I waited for the guy to walk away, but I didn’t hear him leave, which made me think he was just standing there and watching me, so I asked again if I could do anything for him, and he didn’t answer. 

I knew he was there though, because I hadn’t heard him leave, so I did this awkward turn on the ladder to look down and see what he was doing.  Now I admit it could have just been my brain fucking up, but I swear to you, Russ, for a split second when I turned around, that fucker didn’t have a face.  Like he had no face.  It was almost concave, and totally smooth, and I just about had a fucking heart attack because I couldn’t even wrap my brain around what I was seeing.  I think I started to say something but there was this kind of ‘pop’ inside my head and suddenly he was just a normal looking guy.  I must have looked weird because he asked me if I was okay, and I was just like ‘yeah, I’m fine.’  He asks about the campsite again and I point to where he has to go, and he’s like ‘I’m not from around here, can you help me get there?’  Now this is when I know something is really up because there’s no way this guy got out here and didn’t know where he was.  And for that matter, there’s no car around, so how’d he get here in the first place?  I said I was sorry but that I couldn’t take him anywhere in a company vehicle, and he’s like ‘please?  I really don’t know where I am, can you come with me and help me get there?’ 

So now I’m seriously weirded out, and I start wondering if this is some kind of ambush or whatever.  I told him I could call him a taxi to come out and take him where he wants to go, and I pull out my phone and he just goes ‘no’ and walks away really quickly.  But he doesn’t walk out of the park, he walks back into the fucking trees and I got right in my fucking truck and start to get out of there, fuck the paint or whatever.  I looked in my mirror to see where he was as I was leaving and he was standing right at the tree line again,  I don’t know how he got there so fast, but this time I know that fucker didn’t have a face.  He was just watching me leave, and right before I turned the corner he took a big step back into the trees and kind of dissolved, I guess.  Maybe it was just dark so he blended in, but it felt more like he just melted away.

Creepy, atmospheric stuff.  Shades of "Slender Man" (remember him?), the gaunt, faceless man who started from a story over at Creepypasta and made his way into the urban legend universe.  (In fact, Slender Man makes an appearance in my novel Signal to Noise, but -- I hasten to add -- that's a work of fiction.)

[Image licensed under the Creative Commons LuxAmber, Тонкий человек, CC BY-SA 4.0]

Okay, what strikes me here is that if this thing is haunting our National Parks so much that @searchandrescuewoods and his friends have seen it multiple times, why hasn't anyone else?  When I was in my twenties and thirties I pretty much spent all summer back-country camping in the Cascades and Olympics, and -- suggestible as I am -- I never saw a single thing out of the ordinary.  Think about it; if this creature, whatever it supposedly is, is this common, surely a whole bunch of the other thousands of campers hiking around the wilderness would have reported seeing it.

The fact that no one is reporting sightings other than @searchandrescuewoods is a strong argument that there's nothing there to investigate.

To return to my starting point, however; all this doesn't mean that I know the stories are untrue.  I just need more than some more-or-less anonymous posts on Reddit to convince me that they're anything but engagingly scary fiction.

On the other hand, if the next time I'm on a trail run in the nearby National Forest, I am accosted by a guy with no face, I suppose it'll serve me right.

**********************************

This week's Skeptophilia book recommendation of the week should be in everyone's personal library.  It's the parting gift we received from the brilliant astrophysicist Stephen Hawking, who died two years ago after beating the odds against ALS's death sentence for over fifty years.

In Brief Answers to the Big Questions, Hawking looks at our future -- our chances at stopping anthropogenic climate change, preventing nuclear war, curbing overpopulation -- as well as addressing a number of the "big questions" he references in the title.  Does God exist?  Should we colonize space?  What would happen if the aliens came here?  Is it a good idea to develop artificial intelligence?

And finally, what is humanity's chance of surviving?

In a fascinating, engaging, and ultimately optimistic book, Hawking gives us his answers to the questions that occupy the minds of every intelligent human.  Published posthumously -- Hawking died in March of 2018, and Brief Answers hit the bookshelves in October of that year -- it's a final missive from one of the finest brains our species ever produced.  Anyone with more than a passing interest in science or philosophy should put this book on the to-read list.

[Note: if you purchase this book using the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to support Skeptophilia!]

Slender Man, violence, and blame

When bad things happen, it seems to be a reflex that people look around for someone or something to blame.  And this week, Slender Man (more recently written run together as "Slenderman") is the convenient target.

I've written about Slender Man before, in a post two years ago in which I pondered the question of why people believe in things for which there is exactly zero factual evidence.  And in the last two weeks, there have been two, and possibly three, violent occurrences in which Slender Man had a part.

For those of you who aren't familiar with this particular paranormal apparition, Slender Man is a tall, skinny guy with long, spidery arms, dressed all in black, whose head is entirely featureless -- it is as smooth, and white, as an egg.  He is supposed to be associated with abductions, especially of children.  But unlike most paranormal claims, he is up-front-and-for-sure fictional -- in fact, we can even pinpoint Slender Man's exact time of birth as June of 2009, when a fellow named Victor Surge invented him as part of a contest on the Something Awful forums.  But since then, Slender Man has taken on a life of his own, spawning a whole genre of fiction (even I've succumbed -- Slender Man makes an appearance in my novel Signal to Noise.)

[image courtesy of an anonymous graffiti artist in Raleigh, North Carolina, and the Wikimedia Commons]

But here's the problem.  Whenever there's something that gains fame, there's a chance that mentally disturbed people might (1) think it's real, or (2) become obsessed with it, or (3) both.  Which seems to be what's happened here.

First, we had an attack on a twelve-year-old girl by two of her friends in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, in which the girl was stabbed no less than nineteen times.  The friends, who are facing trial as adults despite the fact that they are also twelve years old, allegedly stabbed the girl because they wanted to act as "proxies for Slender Man" and had planned to escape into Nicolet National Park, where they believed Slender Man lives, afterward.  They had been planning the attack, they said, for six months.

Then, a mother who lives in Hamilton County, Ohio, came home from work a couple of days ago to find her thirteen-year-old daughter waiting for her -- wearing a white mask and holding a knife.  The mother was stabbed, but unlike the Wisconsin victim, escaped with minor injuries.  The daughter was said to have been inspired by an obsession with Slender Man.

Even the shootings two days ago in Las Vegas, Nevada have a connection.  The killers, Jerad and Amanda Miller, were enamored of ultra-right-wing politics and conspiracy theories (allegedly the couple had been part of the Cliven Bundy Ranch debacle, and are fans of Alex Jones); but Jerad Miller had been seen around their neighborhood in costume, including one of -- you guessed it -- Slender Man.

So of course, the links between the cases are flying about in the media, and (on one level) rightly so.  It is a question worth asking, when some odd commonality occurs between such nearly simultaneous occurrences.  But along with the links, there is a lot of blame being aimed at people who have popularized the evil character.

Is it the fault of Victor Surge, or Something Awful, or the site Creepypasta (which is largely responsible for Slender Man's popularity), or Eric Knudsen and David Morales, who administer the Slender Man site on the website, or even of authors like myself who have helped to popularize it?  It's tempting to say yes, because (more than likely) had the girls in the first two cases never come across the idea of Slender Man, it's unlikely they would have committed the crimes they did.  (The Millers clearly had other issues, and Slender Man was hardly a chief motivator for the murders they committed.)

Life, however, is seldom simple, and there is no single source we can point to for the origin of these tragedies.  Nor is there any way we can keep disturbing images and unsettling ideas away from people who are determined to seek them out.  And this is hardly the first time this has happened; Dungeons & Dragons, Magic: The Gathering, World of Warcraft, and various other role-playing games have all been targeted at various times for inciting kids to lose themselves in violent fantasy worlds.  But it needn't be anything even that sketchy to result in obsession.  Back in 2011, a woman in Japan ended up in jail after she discovered that her husband was cheating on her, so she hacked into his online role-playing game and killed his avatar.  The husband was so infuriated that he called the police, who promptly arrested her.

And I still remember -- although I can't find a source online that verifies it -- that in the late 1970s, when the book Watership Down was published, a teenage boy read the book cover to cover and then promptly killed himself.  He left behind a note that his suicide was motivated by his longing to join the world of the book, and he'd become convinced that when he died, he'd be reincarnated as a rabbit.

The sad truth is that even if you remove the triggers -- the role-playing games, the books and movies and online memes with disturbing imagery -- the bottom line is that these are all the acts of people who could not tell fact from fiction, and who (therefore) were dealing with some level of mental illness.  It may be that the girls who stabbed their friend, the daughter who stabbed her mother, and the young man who killed himself over Watership Down would not have committed those acts had they not been spurred to do so by the fictional worlds they had entered.  But the fiction wasn't the root cause.  The root cause was mental illness that (apparently) had never been recognized and treated.

As sad as these acts are, we aren't going to make them go away by eliminating such tropes as Slender Man from our fiction.  For every one we eliminate, there are hundreds of others out there, as disturbing (or more so).  From the Cthulhu mythos of Lovecraft, to the various horror worlds created by Stephen King, to The X Files, to Supernatural and Dexter and Fringe, we are never going to want for scary imagery to draw from.  It would be nice to think that children are being shielded from these until they are old enough to handle them (and I was heartened to see that Creepypasta now has a "Warning to Those Under 18" on their website), but the unfortunate truth is that mental illness is all too common -- and the world is a dangerous place.  And the real question, the one our leaders don't want to face because it's far tougher than simply pointing fingers, is why access to mental health care isn't universal, accessible, and cheap.

"Slender Man" and the persistence of belief

A recent article by Chris Mooney in Mother Jones, which you should all read in its entirety (here), considers the mysterious phenomenon of why people believe things for which there is no factual evidence.  The most perplexing thing in Mooney's article, which he does an admirable job explaining but which I still can't quite comprehend, is the well-documented phenomenon of people's beliefs actually strengthening when they are presented with persuasive evidence contrary to their ideas.

I won't steal Mooney's thunder by repeating what he said -- he said it better than I could, in any case.  But do want to give a brief example, described more completely in Mooney's article.  He tells about a doomsday cult whose leaders were convinced that the world was going to end on December 21, 1954.  A researcher went to join the cult members on the fatal day, waiting to see what was going to happen when the clock struck midnight.  What you'd think -- that they'd all kind of blink, and look around them, and laugh and say, "Okay, I guess we were wrong.  What a bunch of goobers we are," didn't happen.  They came up with a cockamamie explanation of why the world hadn't ended -- that their faithfulness and belief had caused the alien overlords to issue Earth a reprieve.  What it didn't do, amazingly, was cause anyone to question their root assumptions.

I came across a perfect, if rather maddening, example of this phenomenon yesterday.  I'm always on the lookout for any news in the cryptozoology world, and yesterday morning I bumped into one I'd never heard of before.  Dubbed "Slender Man," it's a tall, thin humanoid, dressed in black, with no facial features -- just a shiny, smooth, white face.  Allegedly, it has been associated with a number of mysterious disappearances, often of children, and there is even a short documentary (also worth taking a look at, here) which contains video and audio footage showing appearances of Slender Man.  It's quite creepy -- not recommended for watching at night.  (Don't say I didn't warn you.)

The problem is, it's a fake.  Not just the documentary; the entire story.  A certified, up-front, yeah-okay-we-admit-that-we-made-the-whole-thing-up fake.  Back in June of 2009, there was a "paranormal photograph" contest on the Something Awful forums, a site devoted to pranks, digitally altered photographs, and hoaxes.  A fellow named Victor Surge sent in a submission, with the description of his creation, whom he dubbed "Slender Man."  The original thread on the forum is still going, and runs to 46 pages.  If you can bear to go back through it, you can read how the story developed, starting with a single digitally altered photograph, and finally blossoming into a whole cryptozoological "phenomenon," complete with a history.

The difficulty, of course, is that when you make up something convincing, people are... convinced.  Lots of people.  If you Google "Slender Man" you'll pull up hundreds of websites, and amazingly, many of them consider him a real paranormal phenomenon.  (Upon realizing what I just wrote, I had a momentary thought of, "Implying that there's a difference between real and unreal paranormal phenomena?  I'm losing my marbles."  But I hope that my readers will understand what I meant by that phrase, and not think that I've turned into some kind of Sasquatch Apologist, or anything.)

At first, I thought that the owners of these websites simply hadn't heard that it was a hoax -- or actually, not even a hoax, because Surge had never really intended for anyone to believe him.  The most astonishing thing is that a number of these websites state that they know all about Surge and the Something Awful contest -- and they believe that this story was invented, after the fact, to cover up the "research" that Surge had done on Slender Man and to keep the phenomenon a secret, to stop the public from panicking!

After reading that, and recovering from the faceplant that I experienced immediately thereafter, I thought about Mooney's article, and the desperation with which people cling to beliefs that are contrary to known fact.  Why on earth does this happen?  Aren't we logical beings, imbued with intelligence, rationality, and fully functional prefrontal cortices?

Sadly, Mooney's answer seems to be "only sometimes."  Again, I won't go into tremendous detail -- you should simply read Mooney's article.  But the basic claim is that when we've infused a belief with emotion, we meet contrary evidence with a physiological and neurological reaction that mimics our fight-or-flight response -- we either decide to fight ("what you're saying isn't true!") or we flee ("I won't listen.").  What almost none of us do is to take that evidence, think about it clearly, and revise our basic core beliefs to fit.

All of which makes it abundantly clear to me that humans are, in fact, animals, and that we often respond to new situations with no more "higher thought" than your typical fluffy woodland creature does.  It makes me wonder why we still see a fundamental divide between "human" and "animal" -- but of course, looking that assumption in the face is pretty likely to generate a fight-or-flight response, too.