Fine then.
Hopefully you read this, even if you don’t respond. It would be hard to prove supernatural occurences over the internet, if not impossible.
OKAY everybody…wow. It did not cross my mind that this question would cause such an uproar. I wonder, did anyone lose sleep over this? My only question was if there was any proof of the supernatural. I am assuming there is no proof, only theories. Either way, I am glad everyone had fun with this. If anyone has any proof, please let me know via e-mail or something. Wow!
Let’s hope not, it’s only been up for ten hours.
Correct, as far as we know.
If anyone does, please send a copy to me via email as well.
The OP asks after evidence of the supernatural, for which you supply “a theory” backed by no more evidence than “I read it in a book”.
Just exactly what evidence do you actually have that your theory is any better than mine? Why did you roll your eyes at my answer, but believe whatever quack told you ghosts were something like electro magnetic radiation?
I don’t think there’s any more evidence for the foregoing than for your theory. And even if there was, the kettle pointing out that the pot is particularly black does not prove the kettle is white.
Your argument seems to be that you should believe in any old crap because there will always be doubters about anything. Run that one by me again, I’m having trouble getting my head around it.
Fact is, most people have no difficulty in believing in things for which there is evidence. Which is what the OP has asked for, but so far failed to obtain. That is unsurprising from my point of view (I don’t believe in ghosts) but can only be regarded as a critical failing on the part of those who do believe.
If anyone does find some proof, also send it to me too.
Thank you.
I think it would help to review a little basic science methodology here. A “theory,” when used in a scientific sense, is a broad system to explain lots of facts. Newton’s theory of gravity explained planetary motion. The germ theory of disease explained that microscopic life forms cause disease. Einstein’s theory of relativity explained how physics can be observer-independent. All of these took data, and presented a framework to explain them, which would make predictions that could be further verified. They’re not baseless conjectures, as you seem to be assuming “theory” means.
What about “proof”? This means that something has been proven. A single piece of data would probably not constitute proof. There are lots of little pieces which could be called “evidence” for ghosts. The problem is that they are not convincing, so even with a lot of them, that’s not proof. They’re not convincing because they can be explain by more mundane things. I’ve seen lots of photos that some kook somewhere thinks are ghosts, but they’re much more easily explained as common photographic problems - lens flares from the sun reflecting around inside a compound lens, an out-of-focus piece of dust close to the camera, smoke in a room, etc. That’s the quality of evidence for ghosts. So to answer your question, there is lots of poor evidence, but no proof.
Another science concept is “an extraordinary claim requires extraordinary evidence.” You can’t say that there is no convincing evidence for ghosts, but there’s not convincing evidence against them either, therefore their existence is up in the air. If someone makes a claim that is against how we currently understand the world to work, then it’s up to him to provide clear evidence. For example, if I claimed that the world is controlled by a god who’s a cabbage named Henry and who lives in Dubuke, I would expect that you would not believe me, even if you haven’t gone to the trouble of disproving it.
And contrary to what Aslan2 says, scientists relish the opportunity to find something that goes against the conventional wisdom. That’s how a scientist gets famous. Someone who found convincing evidence (proof) of ghosts would be famous forever.
This is the perfect example of pseudoscience. . .scientific principles being distorted to fit your point of view. You’re right, energy can neither be created nor destroyed. Does that mean that when I mow my lawn, the “life force” contained within the clippings floats around and haunt my soul for the rest of my days? No, they go back into the ground, provide food for bugs–their energy is consumed and digested, and used to feed microbes and insects, whose excrement then goes back on the ground, which helps the grass grow some more, which I then cut. . .etc, etc.
For sentimental reasons (or because we think we’re somehow better than other organisms on this planet), people have a difficult time believing that the humans are part of the same process. When you die, you rot. That’s where your energy goes.
i belive flying monk was kidding.
netscape 6 (MUCH better than Netscape 4.x, by the way :D), I missed that. Upon re-reading it, you’re right. Of course I caught the sarcasm in the second paragraph of FM’s post, but the first paragraph. . .I have actually heard that argument from “believers” of this sort of thing. I read his post with it in mind that I had actually heard that argument before, and I missed the sarcasm.
I apologize. But, my comment still stands–that people think there is something more to themselves than there is to all of the other organisms on the planet.
Once again, a fairly straightforward question on a specific issue has devolved into a debate about the nature of science.
As for the assertion that the body loses a small amount of weight at the point of death:
I recall first hearing this UL back when I was an undergraduate in the mid-1970s. My informant was a biochemistry major, someone presumably closer to the source for information of this kind. I will admit that I found the story kind of compelling at the time. Of course, it should probably be considered that when I heard the story we were camping out with some friends in the shell of an uncompleted house in some woods in the Ozark foothills. It was a time for ghost stories, and for credulity. Come the light of day, it seemed rather less credible.
Any doubts I had that the story was not bogus were dispelled when I later read two books by Dr. Bergen Evans, a professor of English at Northwestern University who was famous for debunking superstitions and urban legends. (He was also the man who wrote the questions and answers for the big quiz shows in the 1950s, including The $64,000 Question). In either The Natural History of Nonsense or The Spoor of the Spooks he tears this story apart, asking just where, exactly, there is a hospital where people are kept on a scale as they die?
It turns out, though, that just such preposterous experiments actually occurred. In 1907 an American doctor who ran a sanitarium published a journal article relling about how he got seven patients who were dying of debilitating diseases such as tuberculosis to agree to spend their last days of bed rest in a specially-constructed bed which continually monitored their weight. He found that a small, almost imperceptible amount of weight was suddenly lost after death.
The same researcher (his name escapes me at the moment, unfortunately), tried experiments with dogs he had poisoned. He could not detect a weight loss, and concluded that his method of killing them vitiated the results. Here he was in a heads-I-win-tails-you-lose position; if he hadn’t believed in the existence of canine souls, he could have argued that his experiments proved they didn’t exist. He could also have argued that a dog’s soul dies along with its body; this is more-or-less the explanation I was given when religion class when I was a boy.
In a book called Beyond the Body, a British parapsychologist named Susan J. Blackmore raised an important point about such experiments; the experimenters lack any definite way of defining when the moment of death occurs except to note that weight loss occured.
This means the researchers were tying death to weight loss rather than weight loss to death.In some of the 1907 experiments the weight loss was observed seconds after vital signs ceased. In one case, thought,there was an interval of something like fifteen minutes. Blackmore is an interesting writer, in that she is a parapsychologist who is actually a fairly skeptical person; for instance, she has had an out-of-body experience, yet does not ascribe a supernatural significance to it.
Experiments of this kind were repeated with animals in the 1930s by an early parapsychologist named H. L. Twining. Twining found that if he killed an insect by poisoning the air around it, the insect would lose weight–but only if the insect was left in the open air. If he killed it in a sealed container, no weight loss was observed.
There would seem to be two ways to interpret these results. The first is to suppose that the soul of an animal can leave its body, but cannot penetrate the wall of a glass test tube. The other is to suppose that all Twining and other researchers ever really did was detect the normal escape of air and moisture from a corpse.
One thing that has always struck me as quite telling is the fact that almost all visual records of “ghosts” are in the form of photograpsh, as opposed to actual video. I have a guess as to why this is the case.
Most, if not all, photographs of “ghosts” are simple things like lens flare, blurred dust, damaged negatives, double exposures, etc. These types of events are transitory, and are dismissed out of hand (even by believers) when seen in the context of the video frames before and after. It is only when you are presented with a single, out-of-context anomalous frame that you begin to wonder what that thing in the picture is.
Otherwise, considering how prevalent video cameras are these days, there would be tons of ghost videos floating around the internet.
His name appears to have been Duncan MacDougall. In her Dying to Live (Grafton, 1993, p181), Blackmore gives the reference as MacDougall, D., 1907, “Hypothesis concerning soul substance together with experimental evidence of the existence of such substance”, Journal of the American Society for Psychical Research I, 237-44. She goes on to note that this was inadequately controlled and that subsequent experiments have failed to reproduce anything, citing her own Beyond the Body and a 1978 paper in the same journal.
What appears to be the text of the original paper has been posted on the net in a couple of places. This site is slightly dubious about it, suggesting the whole thing may be an urban legend amongst Christians, but I see nothing in the text that’s particularly suspicious. It’s just typical for the field and the period.
What however should be noted is that most of the web versions give the journal citation to something called “American Medicine” in April 1907. It’s not impossible that there were two versions with exactly the same title published in two different journals, but it seems more likely that one of the citations is spurious. Given that Blackmore does reliably know her way around the early literature on psychic research, I know who I’d bet has it right.
Note that MacDougall was reporting weight losses of ounces, not pounds. As usual, references for contentious claims in the form “In that same book …” to some unknown book really aren’t wise in GQ.
This is an excellent point.
In the days of Arthur Conan Doyle and Harry Houdini, there were no Instamatics, no Handicams, no closed-circuit security video, no disposable Fuji snapshot boxes, no webcams: in short, photography was a rare and specialized craft. Even so, images were produced based on which people asserted the existence of various supernatural critters (see the famous fairy photos taken by those two girls, for example).
But now, cameras are everywhere. Hundreds of square miles of the earth are being photographed or imaged in some way twenty-four seven. Throwaway 35mm cameras can be obtained and carried by anyone, pretty much anywhere. You can get a decent palm-sized video camera for next to no money, and some people can even take pictures with their phones.
It’s safe to say that more documentary imagery is being produced by more people in more places now than at any time in history. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were more pictures taken in the last five years than in all the preceding years combined.
So where are the ghosts, and the pixies, and the gremlins, and the dragons, and the pleisiosaurs, and the yetis? As the amount of documentary imaging explodes at exponential rates, how is it that these cryptozoological beasties continue to escape documentation? And most importantly, at what point does the volume of photography and video recording reach such a critical mass that we must logically conclude either that these things have some supernatural ability to know when there’s a camera in the vicinity and they should make themselves scarce, or that they just plain don’t exist?
Re the latter, I’m already there, but I don’t hold my breath that the rest of the world will catch up any time soon. The need to believe, even in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary, is just too strong.
There’s One Million Dollars for anyone who can prove any sort of paranormal occurrence.
i don’t know as i believe in ghosts, but i DO believe in demons… that’s supernatural enough to me.
My thanks to bonzer. “Duncan MacDougall” is indeed the name that was eluding me.
Two categories of phenomenon which are often cited as proof of the supernatural are near death/our-of-body experiences and the appearances of wraiths.
First, the near-death stories:
Much has been made by some writers that many people have reported largely consistent out-of-body experiences while at or near the point of death. Since the 1970s there have been numerous surveys, scholarly and popular, detailing stories of people who found themselves “heading toward the light”, an experience often accompanied by apparent meetings with friends or relatives who have been long dead.
While the intense popularity of such stories appears to be somewhat new, accounts of near-death experiences actually have a long history. In Claudius the God Robert Graves discusses what little is known of the Druid system which existed within the Celtic culture of the early A.D. period. He describes the druids as having had an elaborate system of initiations whereby priests progressed from one level to another after prolonged and difficult study in such fields as botany, medicine and law.
Few men entered the highest level, as most who reached the penultimate step chose to remain there. To become a 33rd level Druid one is said to have had to die and come back to life.
The applicant would be administered progressively stronger doses of poison until his heart stopped, and then would be revived–this second step was not always successful.
If the Druid was revived, he then had to tell a panel of other Druids who had undergone the same experience what the next life was like. As this was a closely-guarded secret within the cult, and if the description of the applicant matched the experiences of the examiners, it was accepted that his experience was authentic, and he was admitted into the elite inner circle.
All of this sounds rather hair-raising, and suggests that people who have had such experiences are not merely hallucinating, but have had a genuine encounter with the supernatural.
It has been shown, however, that the descriptions people give of near-death experiences are culturally biased; that is, people who apparently die and come back to tell about it go to different places and see different things depending on what the society they live in expects to happen after death.
It is a cliche that people who die are supposed to “head towards the light”, but this is apparently a Western prejudice. In many Buddhist cultures the opposite is said to happen; it is believed that after one dies one is immediately engulfed in brightness and head towards the darkness.
While little is known of what the Druids experienced (it was a closely guarded secret, after all), it is known that Celtic belief about the after life involved sailing off past the setting sun.
In the Middle Ages people from throughout western Europe went on pilgrimages to a cavern in Northern Iresland called Partick’s Purgatory. After an account of how a man who slept there had an out-of-body experience became publicized, people began paying a local monastery for the privilege of spending the night alone there in the hope that the same thing would happen to them.
It is no trick to have a vivid dream based on something you have been thinking about a lot, and judging from contemporary accounts written by priests, people found, time and again, that they had the “same” dream. It involved traveling along a narrow bridge over an apparently bottomless pit in an incredibly large cavern. One had encounters with a guardian angel, whispering devils, etc., which sounded like episodes from a morality play.
The cavern, by the way, collapsed in an earthquake centuries ago.
The Egyptian Book of the Dead was a central document in the culture of ancient Egypt, an object granted such importance that even illiterates wanted to have one buried with them. It provided a guide as to what to expect in the journey to the next life, and described, among other things, the encounter of the soul with a talking door. At one point, the deceased saw his heart placed on one side of a scale, and a feather placed on the other. The idea was to see if one’s heart was so little burdened by sin and guilt as to be virtually weightless.
There is also a Tibetan religious work sometimes called The Book of the Dead in English. Some commentators have remarked on occasional and superficial resemblances between the Tibetan and Egyptian accounts of the journey after death, just as some people like to cite the numerous similiarities in stories people tell in contemporary America of what they recall from a near-death experience.
If people are actually remembering a real trip to an objective place, though, shouldn’t the accounts be largely the same, rather than merely similar? In the 19th Century there was a considerable debate for a time over the conflicting claims of two English explorers who each claimed to have found the source of the Nile. They put it in different places; nobody seems to have argued that since the accounts were “similar” (for instance, they both said the source was in Africa) that they may have both gone to the same place.
Now, as for the wraiths:
While often used as a synonym for “ghost”, the word wraith actually has a narrower meaning. A wraith is supposed to be a double of a person who is at or near the point of death. Many stories of encounters with wraiths tell of how a person supposedly learned something about the dying person they could not otherwise have known. The fact that the encounters coincided with the death of a person some distance away is itself supposed to be proof that something supernatural occured.
Such stories seem to be rather commoner than might be imagined at first. For instance, I used to work with a woman who had a remarkable story of something which happened around 1960, when she was about five years old. One afternoon she and some friends were playing in the basement of her family’s house in East St. Louis, Illinois. Suddenly they heard screaming outside, as though a man was in terrible pain. Rushing to the window, they saw a nude man running along the side of the house. He was bent over double and flailing his arms about. When they went outside to see what was going on, he had vanished.
That evening her family received sad news. An adult cousin of hers, whom she had never met, had died that afternoon. He had burned to death in a fire.
I don’t doubt that my friend was sincere when she told me this story, but I doubt it ever happened. Looking back on my own early childhood, I find I can remember very vividly things I know, rationally, could never have happened. I have found that other friends report the same thing; for instance, a friend of mine remembers quite distinctly that there was a week with eight days in it once in the early 60s; the television schedule repeated exactly when there were two Saturdays in a row.
In the late 1800s a distinguished English Magazine called 19th Century published a really amazing account of an experience of a British judge in Shanghai, China; the government there was so accomodating to its foreign enclave that it allowed the British to operate their own commercial court in the city.
Late one night, the judge said, a local newspaper editor, the Reverend Hugh Lang Nivens, came to his bedroom uninvited and pestered him to tell him about a ruling he was going to render the next day. The judge supplied him with information, and then said this was the last time he would ever allow a reporter in his house. Oddly, the sheer weirdness of having the editor there in this way apparently did not occur to him at the time. Nivens thanked the judge, and then said, cryptically, that this was the last time the judge would see him anywhere.
A short time after the editor left the judge’s wife awoke, and he told her about their strange visitor. The next day the judge learned that Nivens had died during the night. It was apparent that Nivens had not gone out of his house that evening, and the coroner said that he had been dead for at least two hours when the judge claimed to have seen him. Scribbled in a notebook the editor kept was information about the ruling the judge was going to hand down.
A later article in 19th Century revealed some interesting information. For one thing, Nivens had died in the middle of the day. For another, the judge never handed down a ruling in a case like the one he described. Finally, he could not have told his wife about the visit immediately after it happened as he was actually single at the time.
That’s how it is with memory. When the famous criminal attorney Richard “Racehourse” Haynes was a student at the University of Dallas he ran for student council. As part of his campaign he issued flyers saying he was going to parachute into a reflecting pool on campus at a certain time on a certain date. He never did any such thing, but Texas Monthly magazine reported, decades later, that there was no shortage of people who claimed to have been there that day and remembered seeing him do it.