Showing posts with label psychology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label psychology. Show all posts

Sunday, April 14, 2013

Sane People with Insane Beliefs

People who believe crazy things are not necessarily crazy; but neither are beliefs sane just because the people who hold them are so.

Photo taken from The Lonely Conservative

In a previous post on this blog (“Lewis Black on Creationism,” April 1, 2011), I included a video of Lewis Black, in a comedy performance, saying this:
There are people who believe that dinosaurs and men lived together, that they roamed the earth at the same time. There are museums that children go to in which they build dioramas to show them this. And what this is, purely and simply, is a clinical psychotic reaction. They are crazy. They are stone-cold fuck nuts.
As much as I relish Black’s comic exaggerations, I don’t accept them as literal truth, and I suspect that he didn’t so intend them either. Present a young-earth creationist with a problem about plumbing or accounting or gardening and I am pretty sure that he or she will respond to it as rationally as anyone else. It is only when a religious question arises, or rather a question to which their religious beliefs dictate an answer, that they talk like crazy people. If religious extremism were to be regarded as a psychosis, it would have to be a localized and artificial one. And eccentric beliefs are manifestations, not causes or constituents, of any condition that would be deemed psychotic in medical practice.

Louis Theroux has made a couple of documentaries in which he visits and converses with members of the Phelps family, the people behind the notorious Westboro Baptist Church: The Most Hated Family in America (2007) and America’s Most Hated Family in Crisis (2011). I find it natural to describe these people as “loonies” or “wackos”; and to say of them, in Black’s words, that they are “stone-cold fuck nuts” is almost irresistible. But it is plain to any sort of fair scrutiny that they are not insane: it is merely their beliefs and their way of thinking that are so.

Yet that does not make them any the less disturbing. On the contrary, their demonstration that sane people can embrace an insane outlook is part of what makes them disturbing.

These people seem to have answers to any objections that one might raise against their views. I don't believe it would be possible to make any progress in argument with them (and I certainly would not care to try). What I might think of as an appeal to reason or evidence they would, I imagine, dismiss as relying on a “humanistic” perspective—as contrasted with “God’s” perspective, which is the one that they claim to take. And if I move to explain away their behavior in terms of ignorance and delusion, they will just as readily explain away my outlook as due to the influence of Satan.

Does this mean that there is no rational basis for choosing between my “humanistic” perspective and their supposedly divine one? No; it just means that neither side can persuade the other.

And yet, the matter will not rest there. For no one who accepts empirical evidence, scientific method, and logical and conceptual coherence—all of which may be gathered, very loosely, under the name of “reason”—rather than scripture, dogma, and personal influence as proper sources of authority in judgment can be content to regard such a practice as a mere private taste or predilection. The appeal to reason is an appeal that all human beings make and must make in determining what is the case. But some do so in the service of convictions that are not only implausible in themselves but that have implications that conflict with common experience, common sense, or common decency. They reason, but they are not reasonable.

The people of the Westboro Baptist Church provide one illustration of this phenomenon. Another, I think, is provided by right-winger Alan Keyes, who in an interview recently offered the following account of the movement for marriage rights for same-sex couples : “The aim is not compassion for homosexuals, respect for homosexuals, and all of this; the aim in the mind of these hard-headed, calculating, leftist, Communist totalitarians is to destroy the family and to establish the notion that once you have seized power there is no limit whatsoever to what you can do.” (Recording and transcript at Right Wing Watch.)

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Tavris and Aronson’s Mistakes Were Made (But Not by Me): Reading Notes

A book arguing for the power of the concept of cognitive dissonance to explain “why we justify foolish beliefs, bad decisions, and hurtful acts” lacks one thing: a defensible explanation of what cognitive dissonance is.


The following is not a review but merely a comment on one particular point in the book Mistakes Were Made (But Not by Me): Why We Justify Foolish Beliefs, Bad Decisions, and Hurtful Acts by Carol Tavris and Elliot Aronson,1 namely its failure to explain the concept and the associated theory that are the central theme of its argument. I ought perhaps to mention at this point, since you might think otherwise upon reading what follows, that I found the book immensely instructive and disturbing in a potentially very salutary way. Its strength lies in its description and analysis of the various ways in which our need to feel justified in what we think, say, and do drives us to think, say, and do wrong and harmful things. Its weakness lies in its failure to explain the rubric under which it does this work of description and analysis, the concept of cognitive dissonance.

* * *

Before I read this book, I was acquainted with the term “cognitive dissonance” but had only a rather vague notion of what it means. Having read the book, I have a better idea of what it means, and of the psychological research that is associated with it; but the book contains no satisfactory explanation either of what cognitive dissonance is or what cognitive dissonance theory is. The authors repeatedly say that cognitive dissonance theory predicts this and cognitive dissonance theory predicts that, but they never tell us what the theory is—an omission that diminishes not only the usefulness of their book but also the credibility of their argument. We cannot make any informed judgment of the value of the theory if we are never told what it is, but told only of its alleged predictive successes.

Aronson and Tavris offer an explanation of the term “cognitive dissonance” at one point; but it is quite inadequate. It occurs just after an account of the researches of social psychologist Leon Festinger and his collaborators on the response of the followers of a pretended seer, one Marian Keech, to the failure of her prophecy that on a certain date a spaceship would come to rescue them before the earth would be destroyed.2 One might suppose, if one has not previously observed how the adherents of such prophecies behave when confronted with the failure of them, that the followers would be disillusioned and see that their faith in Mrs. Keech was misplaced. But Festinger, the authors report, made a more nuanced, specific, and, as it transpired, more accurate prediction:
The believers who had not made a strong commitment to the prophecy—who awaited the end of the world by themselves at home, hoping they weren’t going to die at midnight—would quietly lose their faith in Mrs. Keech. But those who had given away their possessions and were waiting with the others for the spaceship would increase their belief in her mystical abilities. In fact, they would now do everything they could to get others to join them. (12)
At the end, the authors observe, “Mrs. Keech’s prediction had failed, but not Leon Festinger’s.” They then move on to the theory to which they credit this prediction—the theory of cognitive dissonance. They write:
The engine that drives self-justification, the energy that produces the need to justify our actions and decisions—especially the wrong ones—is an unpleasant feeling that Festinger called “cognitive dissonance.” Cognitive dissonance is a state of tension that occurs whenever a person holds two cognitions (ideas, attitudes, beliefs, opinions) that are psychologically inconsistent, such as “Smoking is a dumb thing to do because it could kill me” and “I smoke two packs a day.” Dissonance produces mental discomfort, ranging from minor pangs to deep anguish; people don’t rest easy until they find a way to reduce it. In this example, the most direct way for a smoker to reduce dissonance is by quitting. But if she has tried to quit and failed, now she must reduce dissonance by convincing herself that smoking isn’t really so harmful, or that smoking is worth the risk because it helps her relax or prevents her from gaining weight (and after all, obesity is a health risk, too), and so on. Most smokers manage to reduce dissonance in many such ingenious, if self-deluding, ways. (13)
The authors cite the pair of thoughts “Smoking is a dumb thing to do because it could kill me” and “I smoke two packs a day” as an example of “two cognitions that are psychologically inconsistent.” But is there any inconsistency at all between these two thoughts? Certainly they are not logically inconsistent: it is possible for both to be true. Nor is there any kind of probabilistic conflict between the two: it does not defy probability that both should be true. The authors say, in the paragraph immediately following the one just quoted, “Dissonance is disquieting because to hold two ideas that contradict each other is to flirt with absurdity . . .” But there is no contradiction between the two cognitions in the example.

The authors say that the two cognitions are psychologically inconsistent. But what is that supposed to mean? That no one can affirm both thoughts at the same time? But surely people can do so; if they could not, then this pair of cognitions could not be an example of cognitive dissonance! Wherein, then, is the “psychological inconsistency” supposed to consist? Perhaps in the fact that affirming both thoughts creates discomfort? But the discomfort was supposed to be the effect of a so-called psychological inconsistency. If the so-called inconsistency is nothing other than the discomfort itself, then the definition amounts to saying that psychological dissonance is the state of tension that occurs whenever a person holds two cognitions that produce a state of tension—which tells us essentially nothing.

It is a dismal failing for a book to give no satisfactory explanation of the very concept that is at the core of its argument. We are left to figure out for ourselves what the concept is from the evidence of the use that the authors make of it.

One point about the concept that is clear is that it has an immediate bearing on the common human proclivity for self-justification. It is, in fact, supposed to provide the answer to the question implied by the book’s subtitle: “why we justify foolish beliefs, bad decisions, and hurtful acts.” We justify, or attempt to justify, such things because it is difficult for us to accept that our beliefs have been foolish, our decisions bad, or our acts hurtful. It is surely these negative evaluations of ourselves that are the source of the discomfort of which the authors speak. In the example quoted above, there is, as I said earlier, no inconsistency between the thoughts “Smoking is a dumb thing to do because it could kill me” and “I smoke two packs a day”; but the combination of those thoughts entails the thought “I do a dumb thing.” That implication, and not any inconsistency between the first two thoughts, is the source of our discomfort. To reduce dissonance, we must do things, or rather think things, that will allow us to avoid accepting that conclusion.

It seems to me that all of the examples discussed by the authors fit under this explanation of the concept better than they fit under the explanation that they give. Marian Keech could not give up the idea that she had visionary powers because she had built so much of her understanding and evaluation of herself upon that idea. Her most devoted followers could not give up that idea precisely because they had devoted themselves to her in quite costly ways: to admit that their faith in her was misplaced would be to admit that they had been extravagantly foolish.

Further, it is evident that many cases that fit under the authors’ definition will not illustrate what they mean by cognitive dissonance. Suppose, for instance, that I remember distinctly, or seem to remember distinctly, leaving a book in a certain place a short time ago, but that when I return to that place, I don’t find the book there (and suppose also that I am alone in my room when this has gone on). This may cause me perplexity, consternation, irritation, frustration, and other unpleasant emotions, but it will not give rise to what Aronson and Tavris seem to have in mind when they use the term “cognitive dissonance.” Certainly it will not drive me to try to explain the non-appearance of the book in self-justifying ways. Rather, my reaction will most likely be first to look around to see if the book has fallen down somewhere, and then, if that does not lead to the discovery of it, to conclude that my memory is at fault: I must have put the book somewhere else and forgotten doing so. Yet here we clearly have a case of discomfort produced by an inconsistent pair of cognitions—“I left the book right here (and no one else has been around to move it)” and “The book is not here.” There is no cognitive dissonance involved because the conflict between these two cognitions does not, or does not seriously, threaten my evaluation of myself. It does compel me to acknowledge the faultiness of my memory, but it will not be the first thing to have done that.

In sum, what the authors talk about under the heading of “cognitive dissonance” is not, as they say in their attempt at a definition of the term, an inconsistency between two cognitions, but an inconsistency between some body of cognitions and our estimation of ourselves.

17 June 2012: Correction made in penultimate paragraph: “will not give rise to” replaces “would give rise to.”

* * *

After writing the comment above, I came across the following passage in the Wikipedia article “Cognitive Dissonance”:
An overarching principle of cognitive dissonance is that it involves the formation of an idea or emotion in conflict with a fundamental element of the self-concept, such as “I am a successful/functional person,” “I am a good person,” or “I made the right decision.”
I wish that I had a better source for the attribution of this principle to the concept or the theory of cognitive dissonance than Wikipedia, but as far as it goes, it confirms the argument that I developed independently. What puzzles me is that something so obviously important would fail to make its way into the argument of Mistakes Were Made. Elliot Aronson, also according to Wikipedia (the article on him), “is listed among the 100 most eminent psychologists of the 20th Century,” “is the only person in the 120-year history of the American Psychological Association to have won all three of its major awards: for writing, for teaching, and for research,“ and “in 2007 . . . received the William James Award for Lifetime Achievement from the Association for Psychological Science.” Why he and Carol Tavris failed to include this essential point in their exposition—which is virtually a non-exposition—of the central concept of their book, I do not know, but the fact that they did so confirms my suspicion that sloppiness in the handling of crucial concepts is very common in the discipline of psychology.


BIBLIOGRAPHICAL REFERENCES

1Carol Tavris and Elliot Aronson,  Mistakes Were Made (But Not by Me): Why We Justify Foolish Beliefs, Bad Decisions, and Hurtful Acts (Orlando, etc.: Harcourt, 2007)

2Leon Festinger, Henry W. Riecken, and Stanley Schachter, When Prophecy Fails: A Social and Psychological Study of a Modern Group that Predicted the End of the World (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1956).

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

The Prophets Are Silent

Self-fancied prophets, such as the Reverend Pat Robertson, have told us why God brought us the earthquake in Haiti, the volcanic eruption in Iceland, and other disasters; why have none been giving us the theological skinny on the big oil disaster in the Gulf of Mexico?

The Deepwater Horizon; photo by US Coast Guard

In previous entries, I have recounted—scornfully, I admit—the claims of certain religious persons to recognize the hand of God in natural disasters: Pat Robertson on the earthquake in Haiti (“Pat Robertson, Propagandist for Atheism?” and “Second Thoughts about What Pat Robertson Said”), Rabbi Lazer Brody and Rush Limbaugh on the eruption of Eyjafjallajökull, and a Muslim cleric on earthquakes in Iran (“More Insights into the Ways of God”). I take it to be obvious that these buffoons are dressing up their benighted prejudices as insights into the ways of God, and thus in effect pretending to prophecy. I also take it that, whether there is such a thing as prophecy or not, these guys haven’t got it.

Only this evening, as I watched a television news report on the attempted “top kill” on the leaking oil well on the floor of the Gulf of Mexico, did it strike me that I have not heard of any similar prophetic pronouncements about a mishap that promises to be one of the worst ecological disasters of all time. Perhaps this is merely because no self-fancied prophet has made any pronouncements sufficiently outrageous to be widely reported in the news, not because none has spoken of it. But I suspect that human-made disasters simply are not as strong a stimulus to such pronouncements as natural ones.

But why should that be? Do we—non-experts—really have a better understanding of why the Deepwater Horizon exploded than we have of why the earth shook in Haiti or the volcano erupted in Iceland? Surely not, though we may expect that an inquiry into the event will eventually bring to light the causes. Is the oil leak in the Gulf of Mexico less significant a disaster than the Haitian earthquake or the Icelandic volcano? Well, it has certainly been less destructive of human life than the earthquake; but the effects on commerce and on animal life look to be pretty dire.

Another possible explanation is that the prophetically inclined have no trouble with the idea of God pushing around tectonic plates or lava veins, but they balk at attributing the actions of human beings, even their errors and collective lapses of judgment, to divine intervention. But this is not true of ultra-Orthodox Jews, for instance, many of whom attribute the Holocaust to divine wrath at the abandonment of strict religious observance among Jews.

Well, I don’t know the answer. It is an interesting psychological question.



Previous entry: The Natural versus the Supernatural

Next entry: Tom Tomorrow on the BP Oil Disaster

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

From Satanism Libel to Blood Libel: This Time, It’s Coming from Haitians


The right-wing evangelical defamation of Voodoo does not end with the misrepresentation of the Bois Caïman gathering as a Satanic pact: it includes the accusation of the ritual sacrifice of human beings, and the propagators of the libel include Haiti’s ambassador to the United States.



In doing the research for my blog entry “The Right-Wing Evangelical Libel against Haiti,” I was reminded at times of the infamous blood libels against my own people, the Jews. For the enlightenment of any reader not familiar with this quaint and venerable practice (do I have to explain that I am speaking ironically? I suppose I must, to prevent stupid misinterpretation. All right, then: I am, or rather was just now, speaking ironically), I will explain how it works. A gentile, usually a Christian boy, is found dead, or disappears, or is believed to have disappeared. (An actual human disappearance, or even a specific identity for the one supposedly missing, is not necessary for the proceeding.) The story is then spread that the victim was abducted by Jews who used him for a ritual sacrifice—insert here details of crucifixion or whatever else excites violent indignation—and drank his blood or used it in making matzah. Attacks on Jews, ranging from harrassment to mass killing and expulsion, usually follow. The great age of blood libels was in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, but they continue to this day. Forebears of mine suffered under them (though as far as I know they were not physically attacked or killed) in Rhodes and Damascus in the year 1840. Needless to say, the practice reflects more on its Christian inventors, who celebrate the onetime sacrifice of a human being by (at least in some denominations) ritually drinking his blood, than on the victims, whose law expressly forbids them to consume even the blood of animals (and no, human blood, even one’s own, does not get a pass).

The lie spread by right-wing evangelical Christians that Haiti was born of a pact with the devil, and more generally that Haitian Voodoo is a form of Satanism, struck me as similar to the anti-Jewish blood libel in that both are cases in which people of strongly held but narrow, ill-founded, and ill-informed opinions project their superstitious fears upon others. In the end, though, I did not include this comparison in the piece, as it seemed to me a bit of a stretch. For one thing, it does not seem to be a libel against Haitians or vodouisants to say that the fabled meeting at Bois Caïman involved the ritual sacrifice of a pig and the drinking of its blood: there is historical evidence of such an event, and besides that, so far as I know, Haitians by and large find nothing offensive in the idea. (This Haitian writer deems the ritual as recounted in the historical sources “a traditional Dahomean blood oath,” Dahomean religion being one of the African sources of Haitian Voodoo.) For another thing, what evangelicals impose on the story to defame Voodoo is not the sacrifice of an animal but the idea of a pact with the devil—hardly as inflammatory a charge as attributing to someone the ritual murder of a child and the drinking of its blood. (Some Haitians have been reported to believe the meeting at Bois Caïman to have involved the sacrifice of a human being: a black slave in some versions, a French colonial soldier in others. See Markel Thylefors, “‘Our Government is in Bwa Kayiman’: A Vodou Ceremony in 1791 and its Contemporary Significations,” Stockholm Review of Latin American Studies, No. 4, March 2009 (PDF), p. 79. But even the evangelicals have not, so far as I know, stooped so low as to try to get people to believe this.)

I was disconcerted, however, when I happened on an article published in the New York Sun on August 19, 2003 under the title “Disturbing Disclosures of Human Sacrifice” (for the moment I withhold the identity of the writer; the article can be found on line, but, apart from the version available through the Lexis service, which I quote here, only in an unreliable altered version). The article begins:
In the wake of several defections from the embattled Haitian regime, some disturbing disclosures about alleged human sacrifice have thrown a new light on the ruling authorities in Haiti.

Executions early in the year 2000, prior to the fraudulent elections of that summer and fall, were intended to ensure the return of Jean-Bertrand Aristide to the presidency he had reluctantly relinquished in February 1996. So said Johnny Occilius, a member of the mayoralty of Cite Soleil, who defected last month.

Among the most scandalous of his disclosures was the gruesome sacrifice of the first baby of a young mother, Nanoune Myrthil. The date was important, Mr. Occilius said, in an interview. It was February 29, the last day in a month that will recur in four years. And “the lamb” must have been a first-born baby. Thus, the Myrthil baby was “at the right place at the wrong time,” Mr. Occilius said. The administrator of the State University Hospital in Port-au-Prince, also known as General Hospital, Marie-Antoinette Gauthier, made possible the snatching of the baby only 72 hours after birth.

Somewhere in the countryside north of the capital, the sacrifice took place that same night. The live baby was crushed in a mortar with a heavy pestle. Officiating was Voodoo sorcerer Henri Antoine from St. Marc, the same thug who founded the pro-Aristide so-called popular organization “Bale Wouze,” or “Clean Sweep” in English. . . .

Meanwhile, Jean Michel Mercier, former assistant mayor of Port-au-Prince, confirmed the disclosures of Mr. Occilius and added that the execution last year of a powerful leader of a “popular organization” was connected to the baby crime.
A baby stolen from the hospital and crushed to death in a mortar under the supervision of a Voodoo sorcerer! And this in a report in The New York Sun—not exactly a publication of the first rank, but still a newspaper with some professional standards, one would think. Initially, my search for confirmation or disconfirmation of the report turned up nothing decisive. I found reports that confirmed that the newborn child of a woman named Nanoune Myrthil had indeed been abducted from the General Hospital of Port-au-Prince around that date. But the only materials that I could find bearing on the alleged ritual sacrifice of the baby were reports of the accusations of Occilius and Mercier that added nothing pertinent. (Note, by the way, that verifying that a baby was stolen from the hospital and never found, however shocking that fact is by itself, does not license the conclusion that the baby was sacrificed in a Voodoo ritual. Babies do get stolen, usually either by people who want to raise them as their own or by people who want to sell them to others to raise.)

Several features of the article raise suspicions. The article appeared, not in the “Opinion” section, but in the “Foreign” section of the newspaper; yet it hardly reads like a piece of reportage. Take the first sentence: how can a mere allegation of human sacrifice constitute a revelation that throws a new light on something? By what right does the writer, in the third paragraph (and in the title, though that may be an editor’s contribution), identify Mr. Occilius’s charges as a “disclosure,” a term that implies veracity? Why, in the fourth paragraph, does the writer report the events of the alleged sacrifice in direct speech, as if reporting facts, rather than attribute the assertions to Occilius? The sentence that immediately follows it (which I omitted from the quotation above), far from calming these suspicions, only exacerbates them:
The bestial crime boggles the mind, and some people question the veracity of Mr. Occilius’s disclosures. But who would have thought that men infected with the AIDS virus in South Africa believe that they can be healed by having intercourse with a young virgin!
Who would have thought that the writer of a news report, rather than simply stating the facts of what a certain person said, would overtly take that person’s side? And who would have thought that a news reporter would make use of emotional language, strained analogy, and rhetorical question?

Plainly the article is not the work of a competent professional reporter. But why would the writer, whoever he was (his name was on the page, but at this point I made nothing of it), take so partisan a position in a news article? Further, the fact that my Web searches turned up no other reportage of so monstrous an act, other than a few other mentions of Occilius’s allegations, intensified doubt about those allegations, though it did not constitute a refutation of them. Why would someone make up such a story, anyway?

Then I found this: a transcript and translation of an interview conducted in Haitian Creole with Sonia Desrosiers Lozan, a former employee of the National Port Authority of Haiti who claims to have been present at the ritual killing of the child of Nanoune Myrthil. (The Web page on which I found the transcript is dated October 30, 2009, but the interview was certainly conducted well before that date, as I found the same transcript reproduced on a page dated March 5, 2007. The latter page contains a narrative, written by Stanley Lucas, of the night’s events, apparently reconstructed from the interview, but adding many details, as if the writer had himself been present.) Ms. Desrosiers reports that the sacrifice took place at the home of then-President Jean-Bertrand Aristide. She gives the names of several persons supposedly present: President Aristide; Grandra, the houngan (Voodoo priest; the embellished version by Lucas, who seems to have been misled by the word “priest,” has him initially appearing in the robes of a Catholic priest); Marie Antoinette Gauthier, the director of the General Hospital, who, according to Desrosiers, brought in the baby (Desrosiers says that it was this that led her to conclude that the baby was the one taken from the hospital); General Wiltan Lherrisson, the head of the Haitian army; Jocerlerme Privert, the minister of the interior; Jean-Marie Chérestal, prime minister of Haiti during  2001 and 2002; Annette Auguste, popularly known as “So Anne,” a Haitian singer and political activist for Lavalas, Aristide’s party; and others. (The Lucas version adds Aristide’s wife Mildred to the company and describes the sweat on her upper lip.)

According to Desrosiers, all the participants took turns working the mortar to crush the baby, all the while “singing mystical songs and crying that Aristide’s five-year term was non-negotiable. . . . Mystical songs, throwing water, lighting candles, something totally diabolic.” After the ceremony was completed, she says, the houngan gave the president the heart of the baby in a bottle which he placed in his private room, and the baby’s remains were interred in the cemetery of Port-au-Prince, in “a sector where they put the remains of the ceremonies. . . . When they do these ceremonies they always bury the remains of the dead so when they want to light a candle and call the spirit back . . . they often do that.”

Is it possible that this woman believes in the truth of her account of events? Certainly. Indeed, it is likely that she does so: even without hearing the original broadcast, one gets the impression from the translation of her words that she is entirely sincere. Is it possible that her account of events is true? Certainly; in the same respect that it is possible that President Aristide and his associates are all humanoid aliens from another planet or gaseous entities made to appear fleshly by telepathic mind control, namely that there is no logical contradiction involved in entertaining such bizarre and fantastic hypotheses. But is there any reason to give this account of events any credence?

On the “yes” side, there is the fact that Desrosiers seems sincere in her testimony, that she held an official position in Port-au-Prince at the time of the reported event, that her narrative is coherent and detailed, and that two other persons, Occilius and Mercier, make similar assertions. On the “no” side is the lack of hard evidence that Satanic ritual sacrifice has ever occurred anywhere, and the extravagant improbability of such elements of her tale as that there could be a sector of the Port-au-Prince cemetery, known only to the malefactors, where the remains of sacrificial victims are regularly interred; that several highly placed government officials including the president of the country and the director of its largest hospital would conspire and participate in such an act; and that, such a thing being done, no evidence of its occurrence would come to light besides the testimony of one self-declared witness and two other persons. That Mercier was not a witness, even purportedly, is evident from the transcript and translation of a broadcast of Radio Vision 2000 in Port-au-Prince on August 13, 2003 in which the reporter, after relaying Mercier’s claims about the abduction and ritual murder of the Myrthil child, adds:
With this, Mercier confirms what Johnny Occilius said about that issue. He says that he got that information from current Lavalas Deputy André Jeune Joseph, who apparently took part in that meeting.
I have not been able to discover any relevant further information about this Mr. Joseph.

It is worth noting, by the way, that while Occilius is reported to have said that it was “important” to the perpetrators that the baby be snatched on February 29, a date that occurs only once in four years, a news report from February of 2001—two years before Occilius made his allegations of ritual sacrifice and even longer before Desrosiers gave her interview—gives the date of the theft as the night of February 26, 2000. Desrosier gives it as February 27. Also, Desrosiers identifies the presiding houngan as a man named Grandra, while Occilius identifies him as Henri Antoine. Such divergences are hardly the weakest features of their stories, but they do add weight to the “no” side of the balance.

Another way to look at the matter is to consider the testimony of Desrosiers as a given fact and to consider what is the most credible explanation of it. There are three principal candidates: (1) that she really did experience the events that she recounts, or events much like them; (2) that she is lying; and (3) that she is confabulating. It is obvious that, for the reasons given earlier, (2) and (3) have vastly greater probability than (1). Between the two of them, I consider (3) more probable than (2). Desrosiers’s story, with its lurid detail, has much in common with the “recovered memories” of Satanic ritual abuse that flourished in the 1980s in this country and elsewhere, initiated by a fraudulent memoir called Michelle Remembers and spread by quacks whose trade consisted in “helping” people to “remember” similar events. Of course, the case of Desrosiers does not involve any claim of a memory repressed and recovered, and in any case, it concerns events from only a few years before her recital of them. But her case exhibits the same conformity of apparent memories to a widely used, pre-existent template.

Of course, to discredit the testimony of Desrosiers is not to prove that no such event occurred. As I said before, it is possible that such an event did occur. But all probability is against it, no strong evidence is for it, and to believe in its occurrence on the strength of the facts that have come to light would be preposterous and irresponsible.

So how did this tale arise? An interesting document to look at in this connection is this item, a page dated January 21, 2001 written by Yves A. Isidor, a Haitian-American professor of economics and spokesman of an anti-Aristide organization. Isidor asserts, citing “a senior member of Aristide’s Lavalas Family Party, also known as the party of Satan, the party of death, who pleaded with us for anonymity,” that Aristide “reportedly was bathed in November [of 2000, presumably] in the blood of a dead Haitian by voodoo priestess . . . Marie-Anne Auguste, commonly known as So An.” This could be a sketchy and garbled version of the Desrosier-Occilius-Mercier story or an independently developed rumor, but in view of the order of the reports, it is most likely the original story from which the more detailed version was subsequently derived by combination with the actual event of the disappearance of the Myrthil baby. The unnamed senior member of the “party of Satan” who was Isidor’s source may be Mercier. Note that in Isidor’s version, the blood sacrifice took place in November rather than February of 2000. This is because, according to Isidor, the ritual was designed to influence the American presidential election to secure that the presidency go to Gore, who was likely to be friendly to Aristide, rather than to Bush, who was likely to be hostile. (Clearly, the spirits of Voodoo were no match for the Florida voting system or the justices of the US Supreme Court. —I kid, I kid.)

Finally, I return to the question of the motives of the people spreading these tales. Obviously, they were actuated by animosity toward then-President Aristide. One element of that animosity that is of particular interest to me is the religious one. Jean-Bertrand Aristide was ordained as a Catholic priest of the Salesian order in 1983, though he was expelled from that order in 1988 on account of his involvement in leftist politics and left the priesthood in 1994 (source: Wikipedia). I do not know what position he may have taken in public regarding Voodoo early in his career, but the piece by Isidor from 2001 makes clear that at least some of his political enemies imputed Voodoo practices to him long before he gave legal recognition to Voodoo as a religion in April of 2003.

Aristide’s recognition of Voodoo, according to this contemporary news report from the BBC, “means that voodoo ceremonies such as marriages now have equal standing with Catholic ones.” The meaning given to the event by evangelical Christians was quite another matter, as the following passage from an article published in Christianity Today on October 1, 2003 indicates:
“The government said they are going to turn the country entirely to voodoo. The Christians say we are going to turn the country totally to the Lord Jesus Christ,” said Jean Berthony Paul, founder of Mission Evangelique du Nord D’Haiti. . . .

Pastors and missionaries in St. Marc organized a rally on August 14, a key voodoo holiday, to counter the witchcraft they say voodoo involves. Missionaries have also circulated unconfirmed reports that a child was abducted from the town hospital to be made a voodoo sacrifice.

They fear Aristide is planning to renew a 200-year-old national “pact with the devil” on January 1, 2004. Many Haitians credit the country’s independence to voodoo.
The “voodoo holiday” of August 14 is the commemoration of the gathering of rebel slaves at Bois Caïman in 1791. The content of the “unconfirmed reports” is, obviously, the blood libel against Aristide. And, as I reported in a previous post, evangelicals have identified Aristide’s official recognition of Voodoo as a religion as itself a renewal of Haiti’s supposed pact with the devil. The interesting fact here is that “missionaries,” meaning, of course, evangelical missionaries, are identified as the ones spreading the blood libel.

I have one final piece to add to the puzzle that I have been assembling here. In a previous entry, I quoted the puzzling reply of the Haitian ambassador to the remarks of Pat Robertson about the pact with the devil supposedly formed by Haiti’s founders. Instead of dismissing Robertson’s tale as superstitious nonsense, the ambassador, after describing the ways in which the revolt of the Haitian slaves against their French masters has benefited the United States, said ambiguously: “So what pact the Haitian made with the devil has helped the United States become what it is.” I was a long way into the researches that I have presented in this entry before I realized why the name of the author of the article from 2003 on the “disturbing disclosures of human sacrifice” seemed familiar to me: it was the same as the name of the Haitian ambassador, Raymond A. Joseph. The biographical page on Ambassador Joseph in the Web site of the Embassy of Haiti in Washington, DC states that he is “mostly known as a journalist.” The page states also that he translated the first New Testament and Psalms in Haitian Creole for the American Bible Society, an evangelical Christian organization, and that he is a graduate of Moody Bible Institute and Wheaton College (Illinois), both evangelical Christian institutions.

It is plain why the ambassador did not repudiate Robertson’s tale of the pact with Satan as the nonsense that it is: he believes in it himself. He is an evangelical Christian, and he is himself part of the effort to demonize Voodoo as Satanism, as well as the effort to demonize former President Aristide and his associates as practitioners of blood sacrifice. The evangelical libel campaign against Haiti and the religion of many of its citizens may have originated outside the country, but it now has exponents among Haitians, including the one who represents his country to the United States.

I do not defend the political record of Jean-Bertrand Aristide, nor do I hold any brief for the practice or the beliefs of Voodoo. But those who use demonic fantasies to defame either the man or the religion by that action alone set themselves in an even less credible, indeed a despicable, position. If they have legitimate objections to make, either in politics or in religion, let them make them without lies, hysterical fantasies, and demagoguery. We have suffered enough from blood libels.



Added 26 January 2010, 22.30 EST:

After writing and posting this entry I discovered a Web page that expounds in a concise and linear fashion most of the matters that I had so laboriously worked out by hours and hours of research, as well as much else concerning the preceding political developments: Richard Sanders, “Demonizing Democracy: Christianity vs. Vodoun and the Politics of Religion in Haiti,” from the magazine Press for Conversion, November 2008, published by the Coalition to Oppose the Arms Trade (COAT), a Canadian organization. I quote the most pertinent part, in which I have replaced the references that originally appeared in endnotes with links in brackets:
When Aristide and thousands in Haiti’s popular government were then illegally removed from power, the elite’s outrageous propaganda was actually taken seriously by the coup-empowered regime. The de facto government’s CIDA-funded “Department of Justice” even used these outrageous rumours to arrest and illegally imprison prominent supporters of Aristide’s Lavalas government. In mid-2004, a U.S. human rights delegation to Haiti reported that:
Members of Fanmi Lavalas have been using the word witch-hunt to describe the ongoing repression of Lavalas. . . . We were shocked to find that this term can be taken literally. While we were in Haiti, a wild story was being circulated by the media and Haitian authorities. It claimed that a baby was sacrificed during a ceremony attended by many members of Lavalas in the year 2000. While we initially took this to be at the level of tabloid sensationalism, it became clear that this ludicrous charge is being pursued by the current de facto authorities.

On three occasions individuals have gone on National Television, reportedly at the behest of the Minister of Justice, to describe their participation at this so-called ceremony. Despite the fact that the stories told by these individuals are not even consistent. . . . Haitian authorities are using these out of court, unverified statements as the basis for issuing arrest warrants for Lavalas officials. These charges are also the justification for continuing to hold [prominent Lavalas activist and community leader] Annette Auguste. [Ref.]
Two particularly virulent enemies of Haitian democracy who have pushed these absurd, religious smear campaigns are Yves A.Isidor, a professor of Economics at the University of Massachusetts-Dartmouth, and Raymond Joseph, a former Wall Street Journal financial reporter who became the 2004 coup-regime’s ambassador in Washington. Isidor, who accused Ms. Auguste of being Aristide’s “voodoo medium,” said she bathed him in human blood to place a curse George W. Bush and to ensure the election of Al Gore in 2000.  Isidor’s grotesque story was later embellished by Joseph who said that as part of their Vodoun ritual, a newborn baby was crushed with a heavy pestle in a giant mortar. [Ref.]

The most well-connected figure who aided and abetted this particular psychological warfare campaign is Stanley Lucas, director of the right-wing Washington Democracy Project’s program on Latin America and the Caribbean. In 2007, this long-time Haitian representative of the U.S. government-funded International Republican Institute, disseminated extravagantly detailed slander regarding the alleged Vodoun infanticide that was supposedly engaged in by President Aristide and his closest political allies. [Ref.]

To establish his credentials and lend credibility to these outrageous lies, Lucas’ website displayed dozens of photographs of himself posing with business executives, Premier Jean Charest, U.S.-backed heads of state, Afghan “tribal leaders,” U.S. senators, congressmen, ambassadors, three former U.S. Secretaries of State, a former National Security Advisor, a former CIA director, and other such so-called “friends” of Haiti.
Yves Isidor, Raymond Joseph, Stanley Lucas—the very same sources to which I traced the story, though I like to think that I have added a bit of further substantiation to the case by combing through Sonia Desrosier’s testimony and the rest of it.



Previous entry: Parallel-Earth Pat Robertson

Next entry: Dishonesty in Hertz’s Torah Commentary

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Hocus-Pocus about “Magical Thinking”

Unquestionably, human beings have a deep and inescapable predisposition to magical thinking; but to identify all instances in which we attribute to things a meaning that goes beyond what we can observe in them as “magical thinking” simply muddies the waters. Ritual actions can have a power that owes nothing to magical beliefs.


In view of how little power we mortals have over what happens in our lives, it is not surprising that we are suckers for magical thinking. Some people manifest this tendency in obvious ways: traditional superstitions about broken mirrors, black cats, saying the name of “the Scottish play” inside a theater, and the like; “lucky” charms and tokens; ritual repetitions of acts that were once accidentally connected with a good outcome; and so on. But magical thinking also has its subtler forms. It is in play when we give vent to chagrin by exclaiming “Just my luck!” To the extent that such an utterance is meant seriously, it implies that a tutelary spirit or individual “luck” orders events for one’s particular disadvantage, or that the events of one’s life are shaped by an invisible power that makes things come out worse for oneself than for others. Of course, no one with a modicum of intellectual self-respect and the capacity for critical reflection seriously affirms such an idea. But the fact remains that, when uncontrollable and unforeseeable events have turned out against us, there is some consolation in entertaining such cosmically self-centered ideas. As I have heard some people say: “I’m not superstitious—just stitious.”

An article by Matthew Hutson, published in Psychology Today in March of 2008, purports to explore this very subject: the persistence of magical thinking even in people who are not aware of engaging in it. (The article is, at the moment of writing, the second hit on Google for “magical thinking,” right after the corresponding entry in Wikipedia.) After presenting an anecdote about a piano formerly owned by John Lennon (about which more in a moment), Hutson says:
Maybe you’re not a Beatles fan. Maybe you even hate peace and love. But you are wired to find meaning in the world, a predisposition that leaves you with less control over your beliefs than you may think. Even if you’re a hard-core atheist who walks under ladders and pronounces “new age” like “sewage,” you believe in magic.
Hutson’s first positive assertion—that we are all “wired to find meaning in the world”—is, I take it, indisputable and unobjectionable (apart perhaps from the ugliness of the computer-geek metaphor of describing human beings as being “wired” somehow). His second assertion, that this predisposition “leaves you with less control over your beliefs than you may think,” and that, even if you are of a skeptical bent, you believe in magic, is rather disturbing, at least to a skeptically minded person like me. Reading that claim makes me keen to know what evidence he has for such a bold assertion. Here is a sample of what Hutson offers:
Often we don’t even register our wacky beliefs. Seeing causality in coincidence can happen even before we have a chance to think about it; the misfiring is sometimes perceptual rather than rational. “Consider what happens when you honk your horn, and just at that moment a streetlight goes out,” observes Brian Scholl, director of Yale’s Perception and Cognition Laboratory. “You may never for a moment believe that your honk caused the light to go out, but you will irresistibly perceive that causal relation. The fact remains that our visual systems refuse to believe in coincidences.” Our overeager eyes, in effect, lay the groundwork for more detailed superstitious ideation. And it turns out that no matter how rational people consider themselves, if they place a high value on hunches they are hard-pressed to hit a baby’s photo on a dartboard. On some level they’re equating image with reality. Even our aim falls prey to intuition.
The first observation is that if a streetlight goes out just when you honk your horn, you “irresistibly perceive” a causal connection in virtue of the nature of your “visual system,” no matter how well aware you are that there is none. This is supposed to show that your “visual system” “believes” in a causal connection. The second observation is that if you throw darts at a photo of a baby on a dart board, your aim will be bad: this is supposed to show that “on some level” you are equating the photo of a baby with a baby.

Both arguments are utter rubbish. They turn on the strategic use of conceptual slippage. Of course, two events occurring at the same time may strike me as if they were causally connected; I might say that they look to me as if they were causally connected. But this is not tantamount to my believing that the events are causally connected.

In fact, Scholl (the psychologist quoted within the passage) seems to be aware of this point; he tries to avoid absurdity by saying that my visual system “believes” in a connection, even when I do not. But it makes no sense to attribute beliefs to a mere part of a human being. Whatever it means to say that my “visual system” “believes” something (if it means anything coherent at all), that does not mean that I believe it. The argument therefore gives no evidence of the occurrence of magical thinking. Similarly, in the case of the dart board, all that has been shown is that the photo has an effect on people that is similar to the effect of an actual baby: no evidence whatever has been provided to support the unverifiable and obscurantistic claim that “on some level” people believe that the photo is a baby.

Hutson’s entire argument rests on equivocations of this nature. His most villainous equivocation is perpetrated with the very term that forms the title of the article, “magical thinking”; for he uses it to cover both belief in unobservable causal connections and the attribution to things of a meaning that is not grounded in observable causal connections. By means of this conflation, he illegitimately counts instances of the latter (invested meaning) as instances of the former (magical thinking properly so called). Consider the anecdote with which the article opens, concerning a tour made by John Lennon’s piano years after the musician’s death.
“It gives off his spirit, and what he believed in, and what he preached for many years,” says Caroline True, the tour director and a colleague of the Steinway’s current owner, singer George Michael. Free of velvet ropes, it could be touched or played by anyone. According to Libra LaGrone, whose home was destroyed by Hurricane Katrina, “It was like sleeping in your grandpa’s sweatshirt at night. Familiar, beautiful, and personal.”

“I never went anywhere saying this is a magic piano and it’s going to cure your ills,” True says. But she consistently saw even the most skeptical hearts warm to the experience—even in Virginia, where the piano landed just a month after the massacre [at Virginia Tech]. “I had no idea an inanimate object could give people so much.”
Where exactly is magical thinking supposed to be evident in this account? Hutson never says, though he presents the story as an illustration. He seems to think the presence of magical thinking too obvious to require explanation. Perhaps he reasons that, since the piano is not John Lennon himself, or an image or a recording of him, but is merely a piano that was once owned and used by him, anybody who regards it as anything other than an old piano must believe that Lennon is somehow actually present in it.

Any anthropologist who made such a leap in interpreting human behavior would be derided as incompetent. So I suggest a more charitable interpretation: Hutson has conflated the common human practice of endowing objects with a significance that goes beyond what can be observed in them with magical thinking properly so called. I find this interpretation confirmed by what he says further on in the article:
To some, John Lennon’s piano is sacred. Most married people consider their wedding rings sacred. Kids with no notion of sanctity will bust a lung wailing over their lost blanky. Personal investment in inanimate objects might delicately be called sentimentality, but what else is it if not magical thinking? There’s some invisible meaning attached to these things: an essence. A wedding ring or a childhood blanket could be replaced by identical or near-identical ones, but those impostors just wouldn’t be the same.

Hutson’s rhetorical question “What else is it if not magical thinking?” is either disingenuous or obtuse. The question of the nature of our attachment to particular possessions, when that attachment is grounded in the history of the items rather than in their observable characteristics, deserves to be posed seriously, not used as a mere rhetorical device for counting all instances of such attachment without examination as “magical thinking.” No doubt, some people do engage in magical thinking with regard to such things: some may believe that the items in question bring them luck, or that getting rid of them would bring disaster, or that they allow them to communicate with the spirit of the former owner, or things of that nature. But not everyone who cherishes a possession in this way holds such beliefs. I doubt that even most such people do.

A simple instance: A friend of mine once gave me a small stuffed toy as a kind of joke gift. For a long time, I kept it atop a dresser, where it would gather dust, because I had no particular use for it and it simply did not fit in with anything else that I own. After a few years, when I was cleaning the clutter out of my apartment, I included it with the items to be given away. Now for all that I knew, my friend might have forgotten that she ever gave me such a gift, or might not care the least whether I kept it or dumped it; I certainly hoped that, if she knew of my discarding the toy, she would not blame me for it. But I could not help feeling, as I think anyone in such a position would feel, that the act of getting rid of the toy had about it something of a desecration. Why? Because the toy was given to me by a friend and was a palpable token of our friendship.

I don’t think that anyone will have any difficulty understanding this fact. But to attribute my feelings about the toy to “magical thinking,” a term that properly designates a belief in supernatural agencies and occult causal connections, is groundless. Hutson’s leaps from observations on how people endow physical tokens with meaning to the conclusion that they are indulging in magical thinking is as groundless and irrational as (genuine) magical thinking itself.

One thing that particularly annoys me about people who reason in the way that Hutson does is that, while they claim to be uncovering the depths of irrationality in human beings, the arguments that they use actually presuppose an implausibly and dogmatically rationalistic way of regarding human behavior. They see people behave in ways that don’t make sense if you try to explain them as attempts to secure particular ends by means of observable causal connections. You might think that the logical conclusion to draw is that the behavior in question simply is not an attempt to secure any end beyond itself. But instead of drawing that conclusion, they conclude that the behavior must be an attempt to secure an end based on belief in an unobservable causal connection. I don’t deny that some people do things of this nature; but to interpret all ritualistic behavior by human beings in this way is a mere rationalistic prejudice. Hutson’s thinking not only makes magical thinking seem much more pervasive than it is, but gives too little credit to the inherent power and significance of ritual practices.



Bibliographical note

Readers of Ludwig Wittgenstein’s “Remarks on Frazer’s Golden Bough” (available in the volume Philosophical Occasions, 1912–1951, edited by James C. Klagge and Alfred Nordmann (Indianapolis: Hackett, 1993), 115–55) will recognize its influence on my critique of Hutson. For instance: “Burning in effigy. Kissing the picture of one’s beloved. That is obviously not based on the belief that it will have some specific effect on the object which the picture represents. It aims at satisfaction and achieves it. Or rather: it aims at nothing at all; we just behave this way and then we feel satisfied” (123). Or this remark, which, whether or not it is fair to Frazer, is the best analysis I have seen of a certain kind of scientistic obtuseness: “His explanations of primitive practices are much cruder than the meaning of these practices themselves” (131). My observations on the senselessness of imputing beliefs to visual systems is also indebted to the work of Wittgenstein, by way of the work of his disciple Peter Hacker. See M. R. Bennett and P. M. S. Hacker, Philosophical Foundations of Neuroscience (Oxford: Blackwell, 2003), ch. 3, “The Mereological Fallacy in Neuroscience.”



Previous post: On Being Skeptical

Next post: Why Are There So Few Non-Orthodox Jewish Blogs?