The True Believers
The million-dollar prize offered through the James Randi Educational Foundation and the 2000 Club is pretty well known by the “psychics” out there, and is beginning to attract attention from the media. Though most of those who apply to become candidates do so by mail, occasionally people walk in the front door of our head office in Fort Lauderdale to apply. More often, they simply want to talk about their claimed powers, or give us a demonstration.
We’re in the business of looking into these matters, and we cannot turn people away or dismiss them without carefully considering their needs. Simple ethical rules dictate that we treat them with understanding and compassion, no matter how bizarre they seem to be, or how farfetched their claims. And of course there’s always the possibility that we might be talking to the first genuine psychic claimant, though the collective experience of our community suggests that there’s no needle in this very large haystack.
One day last year, a chap showed up at the JREF unannounced and caused our receptionist, Geri, to scurry to my office in some trepidation. The man, she told me, claimed that he could make anyone on television say anything he chose them to say. Geri opined that this was the strangest claim she’d ever come upon; I was not at all that astonished, for this is a more common delusion than might be expected.
Perhaps it’s a fear and misunderstanding of technology that has given birth to this strange notion. Those who espouse it have no problem with the incongruencies that are obvious to most of us. The man who so startled Geri offered us an immediate demonstration, so we turned on a lobby television receiver and tuned in the Oprah Show, which he accepted as “ideal” for his purposes. I reminded him that this was an already-videotaped program, but he assured us that it made no difference. We watched while he “put out vibrations” and willed Oprah to say my name. After only twenty seconds or so of trying, he turned to us with a big smile. “There! You heard it?” No, we answered. He shook his head in dismay at our insensitivity, and tried again. It was somewhat longer this time, but the same result followed. Dejected, the man headed for the door, expressing his wonder that we were unable to hear what had been so obvious to him.
Is this claimant a nut, is he insane, is he a fool? No, not at all. He’s simply unaware that what he perceives through his sensory system does not represent the reality we like to assume we are aware of.
A week later, Andrew reported, he received a telephone call from this same man, who offered to perform over the telephone. Ever patient, Andrew tuned in a local Spanish channel, turned up the volume so that the caller could hear, and asked that the newscaster on at that moment be made to say, “Andrew.” Our caller had difficulty hearing the TV voice, so he asked Andrew to listen for him. As expected, the newscaster continued as before, showing no sign of any magical influence.
Is this claimant a nut, is he insane, is he a fool? No, not at all. He’s simply unaware that what he perceives through his sensory system does not represent the reality we like to assume we are aware of. To us, who like to think we’re more in control, the man’s idea is impossible, and we base that conclusion on our knowledge of how the world works. We know that an electronic image cannot be altered by an effort of will; the claimant doesn’t understand enough of how things work to be able to handle a false sensory image that he believes represents reality and conclude that he is wrong. He really “hears” those words being spoken. To him, they’re as real as the voices that spoke to Joan of Arc and to so many thousands of others. When I suggested to him that we could record the voice of Oprah Winfrey while he did his demo for us, and play back the spot where he’d caused her to say the words, he shook his head. “This can’t be recorded,” he said.
Rationalizations are the most abundant resource these folks have.
Another recent claimant who visited us ran on at great length about how he’d been appointed as the messenger from Seven Spirits while in the Philippines. As I listened to his story, I saw a tragedy developing. He’d fallen for one of the rackets that had investors putting money into the “Buried Tons of Gold” scam that claims a Japanese army general secreted gold bullion somewhere in the Philippine Islands, at the end of World War II, and it’s waiting there to be found. The amount varies from 14 tons to 400 tons, and the promoters always want “just one more” investor who can be trusted not to bring others in on this great opportunity. The investor is needed to finance the exploration of the island jungles, a quest that is just weeks away from solving the intricate clues the promoters have stumbled upon.
Usually, the investors are invited to go along on the trek into the jungle, but a few days later they realize just how tough that activity is, and decide to sit out the time in Manila. Need I add that they never see the explorers again, and are told that they perished somewhere in the wilds? This chap was befriended by a local woman who ascertained that he was in tune with Seven Spirits of the islands, and was able to speak sooth on their behalf. He eventually returned to the USA, still hoping to get back on the trail of that mass of gold.
He claimed that, via the spirits, he could answer “any question” we cared to ask. Upon further inquiry, that claim became seriously modified, however. The spirits would only answer “proper” questions that they “wanted” to answer. Frivolous inquiries were unwelcome, and direct answers were not always available. In the company of my staff, I sat and listened to this oft-told tale, but when the claimant revealed that the Seven Spirits “won’t work for free,” I instantly lost any interest I might have had in his claim. I just can’t see paying anyone for the opportunity of their winning a million dollars. I walked out, and left my guys to handle the situation.
It turned out that my exit sobered the claimant considerably. Suddenly, the Seven Spirits were willing, just this once, to give us a free demo. A few days later, Dave, Andrew, and Jim joined the claimant in our library to witness his abilities. He instructed each of them to write down seven questions, and he’d ask the spirits to respond. This was done, and through “automatic writing,” the spirits responded.
I offer you here some of those questions and the corresponding answers. I think you can see that this man is choosing optimum, general-purpose responses in much the same way that the “Eight-Ball” fortune-telling game does. I believe that he is not lying or trying to cheat us in any way. He really thinks he is being influenced by spirits, and in the past I’m sure he has gone through this process with great success, using feedback and adjusting his responses as he went along with the reactions of his audience.
We can easily laugh at those who cherish their beliefs in their mystical powers, but we do so unfairly. For them, these are real forces and abilities.
The questions our staffers at JREF asked the claimant were rather simple. True to his mystical bent, he wanted seven questions asked. His answers were, in most cases, generalized and vague. Examples:
In seven years time.
All you ever need is what God has given you. So forget it.
Nope, the answer is given in the encyclopedia.
Take two for yourself, and leave the rest.
And, some answers were flippant and totally useless. Examples:
Wika waki woo.
Go for broke, buddy.
No way, Jose, but we can try.
Specific questions and answers:
“What is my mother’s maiden name?” “Before you attempt this try to be more forthcoming.”
“Who is Catherine?” “Go south and live a little.”
“What will happen to the U.S. president?” “When the motherlode is found then there will be peace.”
It’s obvious that this man cannot believe he has any original or “random” thoughts or notions. He ascribes every idea that occurs to him to the “Seven Spirits” he believes control him. I’m sure that he can find meaning in, and correspondence with, the questions and answers we obtained at this test sitting. And I’m sure he’ll be back again.
That’s the really sad part of it all.
We can easily laugh at those who cherish their beliefs in their mystical powers, but we do so unfairly. For them, these are real forces and abilities. The real charlatans are not going to walk in the door and hope to bamboozle us. It’s the naive believers who show up. And we owe them a kind ear and patience.