Atmosphere (3)

(part three of four)

I once knew a woman who had grown up in a nonreligious family, and who remained an atheist into adulthood. Then, when she was about 30, some combination of circumstances brought her to visit an Eastern Orthodox church. In the church, she saw a painted icon whose eyes dripped tears of fragrant oil. She was incredibly moved by this experience. She returned to the church, soaked up some of the oil in a wad of cotton, and kept it in a small glass jar. Eventually, she converted to the Eastern Orthodox faith.

I found this chain of events incomprehensible. I had always known her as an intelligent, sensible person. Surely, I said to her, there was some earthly cause, some scientific explanation, for the icon’s tears.

“You weren’t there,” she said simply. Naturally, she said, her first thought had been that this was some sort of trick. But she could find no physical source for the tears, and no way they could have passed through the eyes of the icon. More important, there was evidently something undetectable by the senses — something in the atmosphere of that church — that penetrated deep inside of her and was able to overcome her lifelong habits of mind. For her, there was no question that this weeping icon was a miracle, a tangible sign of God’s presence.

I like to think that if I were there, I could have figured out (or at least devised a reasonable hypothesis for) what was making the icon cry. But as she said, I wasn’t there. And in the absence of independent evidence, who am I to doubt the reality of what she experienced?

After all, the way each one of us looks at the world is determined by our own experience. If I prefer to view the world rationally, it’s because experience has taught me that rational thought leads to answers that I find satisfactory. But there’s no proof of the rightness of rationality, other than that it feels right. The most elementary rules of logic — that a thing must either be A or not A; if A equals B, then B equals A; and so forth — are not provable. We believe them, and build our whole scientific worldview on top of them, because they appear self-evident.

Yet if there’s something in us that recognizes the truth of these logical axioms, then why should we not trust that same internal arbiter when it recognizes truth in other places? Science can establish facts about the world, but those facts are not always sufficient to explain our experience. In our experience, there are certain things that feel unquestionably true — as undeniable as the fact that A equals A. When scientific facts and theories don’t support what feels undeniably true to us, it’s reasonable to seek alternative explanations.

I’ve met several people over the years who claimed to have psychic ability of one kind or another. None of them earned a living as a mind-reader or fortune-teller; I saw no evidence that they were engaging in intentional fraud. So far as I could tell, they genuinely believed that they had the ability to read people’s thoughts, predict the future, or do something similar.  In their experience, enough people had responded positively — “Why, yes, that’s true! How could you possibly have known that?” — that they had come to accept their talents as a fact.

I’m sure an investigator such as the late James Randi would have no reason to doubt these psychics’ sincerity, or to claim that their successful readings hadn’t occurred. He would suggest only that they’ve interpreted their experience selectively — that they tend to remember the instances in which they were right, and tend to forget (or explain away) the instances in which they were wrong.

I once heard Randi tell a story which, as I remember it, went like this: A woman claimed that she had the power to find buried or hidden gold. Randi asked her how reliable this power was, and the woman replied, “It always works, 100 percent of the time.” As a first step toward testing the woman’s claim, Randi set out five wooden boxes, one of which had a piece of gold in it, and then asked the woman to pick out the box that held the gold. The woman chose the wrong box.

“Didn’t you say you’re successful 100 percent of the time?” said Randi.

“When I have the power,” replied the woman, “it works 100 percent of the time. I guess today I didn’t have the power.”

In defining their abilities such that their claims couldn’t be proven false, Randi said, people like this woman were refusing to play by the rules of science. Their rejection of the scientific method could mean only two things: either they were out-and-out frauds, trying to outsmart him and his fellow investigators; or they were sadly ignorant.

I’m not convinced that those are the only two possibilities. Living as I do in California, I meet people who claim matter-of-factly to have done a variety of extraordinary things: they have left their bodies, traveled to past lives via hypnosis, channeled the spirits of deceased people, or communicated with spirit guides. I would once have considered them flakes or crackpots. (Sometimes, of course, I still do, if I feel they’ve lost their capacity for critical thinking and intellectual inquiry.) But over the years, I’ve encouraged myself to avoid this kind of peremptory dismissal.

After all, these people have had experiences that I haven’t had. I might want to interpret their experiences differently than they do, but I don’t have sufficient information for that: As my Eastern Orthodox friend said, “You weren’t there.” (And even if I had been there, it wouldn’t have made much difference, since most of the relevant information lies out of my reach, inside the experiencer’s body and mind.) So rather than dismiss the people who tell me such stories, I try to embrace their experiences. And sometimes I even learn from them.

(To be continued in part 4)

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Resolution

My fourth-grade science teacher, Mr. Watt, was the first person I’d ever heard talk about the scientific method. He told us that when a scientific question needed to be answered, the only reliable way to answer it was through firsthand observation carried out in a controlled manner — in other words, an experiment — whose results are recorded in a lab report.

A proper lab report, Mr. Watt told us, had five parts:

  1. Question: The question that the experiment is intended to answer
  2. Hypothesis: A statement of what the outcome of the experiment was expected to be
  3. Method: A description of how the experiment was conducted
  4. Results: The data generated by the experiment
  5. Conclusion: The answer to the initial question, based on the experiment’s results

This made sense, and seemed quite elegant, except for one annoying thing: the hypothesis. What good did it do to guess at what the results would be before the experiment was conducted? What possible bearing could my prediction have on the experiment’s conclusion? I found that I actually enjoyed writing lab reports, except for the part where I had to arbitrarily decide how I expected the experiment to turn out. That felt completely unscientific.

What brought this to mind, oddly enough, is the presidential debates. By now, everyone realizes that these “debates” aren’t debates at all, but — at best — merely joint press conferences. A real, formal debate has a single question to be decided, a series of well-structured arguments made by each side, and an opportunity for each side to rebut the other’s arguments. So far as I know, there hasn’t been a genuine debate between presidential candidates since Lincoln debated Douglas in 1858.

But thinking about debates reminded me of something I’d always wondered about: Why is the topic of a debate traditionally expressed in the form of a resolution? For example, rather than address the question of “Should there be a nationwide requirement to wear masks for the duration of the COVID-19 pandemic?,” a formal debate would address the statement “Resolved [or “Be it resolved] that there should be a nationwide requirement to wear masks for the duration of the COVID-19 pandemic.” This never made sense to me. Why is the matter considered to be resolved before the debate takes place? And if the resolution were expressed in the negative (“Resolved that there should not be a nationwide requirement…”) how would the debate be any different?

It only just occurred to me that this is the same question I had about the hypothesis in a lab experiment. In each case, why is it considered necessary to predict the outcome in advance?

And in thinking about it, I realized that Mr. Watt had it wrong. (Or, equally likely, I misunderstood what Mr. Watt was telling us. I was only in fourth grade, for heaven’s sake.) A hypothesis isn’t a prediction, or a guess, as to what the outcome of the experiment is likely to be. It’s simply a statement that the experiment is designed to prove or disprove. Similarly, the resolution that initiates a debate isn’t intended to represent the predicted outcome; it’s just a proposition that one side can argue in support of and the other can argue against. The reason this type of formulation is necessary is that unlike a question, to which one can always hedge an answer (“Well, it depends on how you look at it…”), a hypothesis follows an ironclad rule of logic: Either a statement is true or its negation is true; it’s impossible for both to be true at the same time.

As far as I know, this is also why courtroom trials are structured to decide whether a defendant is “guilty” or “not guilty,” rather than “guilty” or “innocent.” In the former case, a jury must decide between two mutually exclusive conditions. In the latter, it would be possible for a jury to decide that the defendant isn’t strictly guilty, but isn’t quite innocent either.

For my friends who are scientists or lawyers, this principle is most likely in the “Duh!” category, but for me,  it was an eye-opening realization. Be it resolved, for me at least, that stating a hypothesis makes sense.

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Boom!

Colorful chemicals in a lab, with one of the beakers emitting green smoke

When I was a precocious little preschooler, adults always used to ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up. At first, I would say the usual things: “a doctor” or “a fireman” or “the president.” At some point, however — much to my father’s delight — my standard answer became “a scientist!”

I’d never actually met a scientist, but I knew what they did from watching TV. Scientists spent the day in a laboratory, surrounded by oddly shaped glassware containing various liquids. From among these liquids, they would choose two or more to mix together. Sometimes the mixing required an elaborate patchwork of tubes, wires, and flames. More often, however, the scientist would simply pour the selected liquids into a test tube or beaker and stir them with a glass rod. And then — magic would happen! Something entirely new would be created, something the world had never seen before. I could imagine no more satisfying way to earn a living.

A few months after this idea took hold, I suddenly realized there was a problem with it. I went to my father and asked, “When a scientist mixes chemicals together, isn’t it dangerous? What happens if the stuff in the beaker explodes?”

He calmly assured me that there was little danger of an explosion. “The scientist already knows what the chemicals are,” he said. “He has a pretty good idea of what’s going to happen when he puts them together. So if there was a chance that a certain combination of chemicals might explode, the scientist would be very careful. He’d probably start out by mixing very small amounts, and he’d use special equipment to protect himself.”

My father meant this to be reassuring, but to me it was utterly deflating. As a scientist, I’d already know what the colored liquids are? I’d be able to predict what was going to happen when I mixed them? Then what’s the point of mixing them at all? Where’s the joy of discovery? Being a scientist suddenly lost all its appeal.

Interestingly, I have no memory of any career fantasies after that. As I grew up, I lacked any vision of what I wanted to be as an adult. This condition lasted all through college. As a graduating senior, I went to the Career Services office for help in figuring out what sort of job I should look for. I took the standard battery of aptitude, personality, and interest tests, with no clear conclusion or direction. The career counselor, defeated, finally said to me, “Have you considered seeing a psychotherapist?”

Amazingly, I’ve made it to retirement without ever having had a real career. I always had a knack for assessing whatever skills I had and then finding a way to get someone to pay me to use them. I treated any employment I had as an opportunity to learn new skills, and then used those skills as a step toward doing something else. Over the course of my adult life, I’ve been hired to work as a writer, editor, producer, actor, animator, designer, composer, web developer, photo retoucher, and community college professor. I had no formal training in any of those things, but somehow I managed never to starve. Looking back on it, though, my life much more resembles my father’s version of a scientist than that of my childhood imagination. I always carefully assessed what seemed possible, what the likely outcome would be of trying this or that, and how to protect myself if anything bad happened. The people who follow a conventional career path are the ones I find amazing. When someone says, “I want to become an X,” and then invest years and money into learning how to be an X, and then they come out at the end and they’re an X, I wonder how that was possible. How did they reach such certainty about what they really wanted to do? How did they know that they really had the capacity to be good at it? How did they know that their investment was going to pay off financially? In other words, how could they have embarked on that path without knowing how it was going to turn out? For me, that seems like the equivalent of mixing chemicals together and seeing what happens. I have nothing but respect for the people who do it.

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