I’ve Got Special Powers
Right, this is Jerry – I’m briefly hijacking Ophelia’s space. I kind of said that I would write about my Special Powers, so here goes. (I ought to say that I don’t for a moment believe in Special Powers, but there is a point to this.)
I’ve had three bizarre “psychic” type experiences in my life; two of which I think are explicable, one of which is a lot more difficult to explain.
The first occurred when I was 11. I was in a car pulling a massive caravan; it was being driven by my father. We had just gone over one of the Alpine mountain passes, and we were driving down into Italy. What happened next was very odd. I found myself absolutely terrified for no easily discernible reason; almost crying with terror. I kept saying to my father that he had to slow down, he was going too fast. He slowed down – probably from 60 miles an hour to 50 (the speed limit, I think, for towing a caravan). But I still kept on at him, that it was too fast, that he had to go slower. By this point, he was a bit freaked out – as was my mother – so he slowed down some more (just to mollify me). But it still felt to me that the car was careering along way too fast to be towing a caravan. So I kept on at him. I can remember him getting annoyed – because by this point we were probably travelling only about 40 miles an hour – but my mother kind of said, look, just slow down until Jerry feels better (or something like that). And he did slow down, so we were probably only travelling at about 30 miles an hour when the front right tyre exploded. Caravans have a tendency to snake; I think if it had happened at 60 miles an hour, we would probably have plunged off the side of the mountain into a ravine, but as it was my father just about got the car under control, and we kind of juddered to a halt by the side of the road.
So that was quite strange, but easily explicable I think.
The second strange thing happened about fifteen years ago. I had a dream that I was playing basketball. I hadn’t played basketball for ten years (I was forced to play once or twice at school). I have no interest in basketball. I don’t know anything about it. And so on. I remembered the dream because in it I threw the ball and dislocated my shoulder (my shoulder dislocates a lot – an old soccer injury). I woke instantly and checked my shoulder. So I had committed the dream to memory. The next morning I went to teach a private student at his house. I’d never been there before. When I was teaching him, he asked whether I wanted a game of badminton after the lesson (he knew I played racket sports). I said sure, why not. But I wasn’t expecting the game. It hadn’t been planned. We went to the Sports Centre. He had got changed at his home, but he’d lent me clothes and shoes, and I got changed in the Centre changing rooms. He went on ahead. Anyway, I walked out of the changing rooms, and onto where I thought the courts were. As I came in through the door, he threw me a basketball, so there I was standing on a basketball court for the first time in twenty years, holding a basketball (the badminton courts hadn’t yet been set up), the morning after the only dream I have ever had about basketball, a dream in which I threw the ball, and dislocated my shoulder. I think I just said: “Fuck, I dreamt about this last night. I’m not throwing this ball.”
Again, I think this one is easily explicable.
But the third strange thing I don’t think is easily explicable. I was on an overnight flight back from the States, and my partner – Cheryl – and I had been messing around with that twenty questions game (yes, we’re very boring). In our version, one of us would think of a famous person, then the other one had twenty questions (Yes/No responses) to work out who the person was. Anyway, this went on for about half an hour before we began to get bored, and I said: Right, you know that I have psychic powers, we’ll play one last time, and I’ll just get the person without asking any questions. Cheryl, of course, thought this not very likely. But then, I had an incredibly strange experience; I just *knew* the answer. I get, of course, that nobody reading this will believe that I “knew” the answer, to which I can only reply – you didn’t have the experience. Anyway, I said to Cheryl something like, “I know who you’re thinking of, but I don’t know the name”. She said: “Yeah right”. And I said – “It’s that woman, in the 1920s, she was involved in partitioning up the middle east, or Iraq, or something like that”. Anyway, that was the right answer, Cheryl had been thinking of Gertrude Bell (Wikipedia has an entry on her). Cheryl pretty much looked like she’d been hit by a truck. She actually looked scared. Because: a) I have no particular interest in the Middle East; b) We’ve never discussed Middle Eastern history; c) Cheryl was not reading about Middle Eastern history (though she is interested in Iran, which it turned out is how she knew about Gertrude Bell); d) We had been on holiday, so we hadn’t been watching news stories about Iraq or anything else to do with the Middle East (and indeed, this would have been before the invasion of Iraq); e) I didn’t even know that I knew about Gertrude Bell – indeed, I’m not sure I did know about her; f) Just the weirdness of the way I’d got it right – I had told Cheryl I would get it right, I guessed the correct person, but didn’t know her name (I mean, you’d have thought I’d at least have guessed at someone whose name I did know”); and so on, and so forth.
I don’t have an explanation for this last one. The first weird experience – I think I had picked up on some imbalance in the way the car was running – because of the dodgy tyre – and my subconscious did the rest. The second weird thing – just a coincidence (though a hell of a coincidence given that the dream appeared like a warning; but nevertheless, a coincidence). The third one – no, it’s not a coincidence. The nature of the experience was such that the simple conjunction of Cheryl having chosen Gertrude Bell, and my having guessed Gertrude Bell, isn’t really what’s at stake. What’s at stake is the fact that the experience itself was verdical. In that sense, this experience had a different quality than the first two weird experiences. For the coincidence theory to work, what has to be explained is the conjunction between the already highly unlikely proposition that I would have guessed Gertrude Bell at all, the fact that my partner had chosen Gertrude Bell, and the fact that this all occurred with my having in advance said that I knew the correct answer, and with that “knowledge” having been gained in the context of a kind of experience I hadn’t had before and haven’t had since. It wasn’t a coincidence.
Ophelia and I started talking about this stuff because I was trying to illustrate the importance of dissent. I was trying to make two points: (a) Naturalistic explanations are strengthened to the extent that they are able to meet the kind of challenge that my experience throws up, but you’re much less likely to get this kind of challenge if everybody is committed, in a taken-for-granted manner, to the efficacy of naturalistic explanations (in this instance, it would mean that likely there would be no attention paid to the nature of the experience [because that allows the coincidence explanation into play; or the half-coincidence, half-knowledge of partner, explanation]); (b) Don’t underestimate the power of certain kinds of experiences; if people have “experiences” of God that are as apparently veridical as my Gertrude Bell experience, I understand why they’re not convinced by the arguments of atheists.
You’re not “hijacking” “my” space. [sighs heavily]
I didn’t get (either because I’m thick or because you left out a few words) that it was throwing the ball that caused the shoulder dislocation in the dream. And you left out the part about saying ‘I’m not throwing this’ – so I never got that the dream worked as a warning. That makes it more interesting than I realized.
I also hadn’t realized that your father was going 60. That sounds pretty terrifying to me on a mountain road! On any road where it is possible to plunge off the side into a ravine. I had a similar experience (minus the tire explosion) in a car once. My brother was driving, down a North Carolina mountain, and I felt he was going much too fast the entire time, while he kept exclaiming that he was going really really slowly. I was very, very glad when we got down to flat land.
“Don’t underestimate the power of certain kinds of experiences; if people have “experiences” of God that are as apparently veridical as my Gertrude Bell experience, I understand why they’re not convinced by the arguments of atheists.”
I’ve even admitted that myself, once. In an argument or discussion with Keith Ellis at Crooked Timber. Especially given that, as Keith pointed out, lots of other people say they have the same experiences – so I admitted that it’s not loony to find that convincing. (I know, big of me, don’t bother saying it.)
“that it was throwing the ball that caused the shoulder dislocation in the dream.”
Yeah. It’s one of the ways that the shoulder can come out.
“That sounds pretty terrifying to me on a mountain road!”
Ah no, it wasn’t really the mountain road. IIRC, after you got over the pass proper, you come out onto this motorway section, which has long curves, and it runs down towards the Italian border.
On any of these passes themselves, you can’t travel more than about 15 miles an hour.
Jerry’s argument for the third experience is, as I understand it, that NOT ONLY it an extraordinary coincidence that his answer was correct (given the circumstances) BUT THAT he also that “the experience itself was verdical”.
I REALLY don’t see what is so odd and inexplicable about this.
Given that there are billions of people on the planet, every day some will experience apparently inexplicable premonations.
By coincidence, or subconscious cues, or whatever, some will turn out to be true.
Some may be accompanied by Jerry’s feeling of knowledge while others won’t.
The latter may be explained away as coincidence, while former may be regarded as evidence of something special (“special powers”).
I can understand why people may not accept naturalistic explanations BUT I don’t think that the “true knowledge” feeling requires any special explanation: it’s just an extra part of the chain of coincidence.
Myself, I don’t know what paranormal activity has to do with God. It seems to me that being on a plane, above a green planet with lots of water and fish and animals and bacteria, speaking to each other, is — if one wants proofs of God — much more powerful than the idea that God, like some higher up in an X files re-run, is all about the not very useful feeling that one’s knows that one’s partner is thinking of Gertrude Bell. Is the deal, here, that this is a break in the causal network, something inexplicable to any natural law? Because even if you grant paranormal phenomena, there’s no need to grant that. The link with divinity is even more obscure. I am always impressed with the resistance to Tom Paine’s point, made long ago, about the disproportion between a God who has infinite powers of creation, yet choses to speak via a Ouiji board. Perhaps God, like Howard Hughes in his decline, is simply senile, and has adapted cosmically eccentric habits. Or perhaps human beings are so immersed in their normal lives that they don’t see that it is much more incredible to have a relationship with someone with whom you fly on a plane than it is to have flashes of telepathy.
Myself, I waver around the agnostic position, but I have no patience for the laborious mysteries of revelation.
I think the point here is that we all *know* rationally that such things are *not* the product of Special Powers, but that, having been at the heart of such an experience — when an ‘experience’ will include the actual bodily trauma of the emotional impact of inexplicable strangeness — it is difficult — literally difficult, not intellectually problematic — even for the committed rationalist to just shrug it off. And in the gap left by that real difficulty come the confabulatory habits of the vast bulk of humanity who are not committed rationalists.
Well obviously the explanation I would be committed to would have to have something to do with subconscious processing.
The pure chance explanation is, of course, a possibility in principle. But there are various difficulities with it.
1. I’ve had this kind of veridical experience precisely once. So how does one assess the probability that it will occur for no reason? (I suppose that people would want to do some kind of extrapolation on the basis of the verdical experiences that other people claim to have…?)
2. My suspcion is that if one did the probability calculation correctly in this instance (which I suspect is not possible) it would turn out to be vanishingly unlikely (i.e., not merely a matter of billions to one against);
3. Even if it turns out merely to be billions to one against (in terms of its unlikeliness), for people attracted to the coincidence explanation it is necessary to argue that one should be content with this explanation over and against the possibility that there is some other natural mechanism going on which we do not yet understand.
Yes Dave, that is exactly the point (or at least the second point I was trying to make).
You said: “a) I have no particular interest in the Middle East; b) We’ve never discussed Middle Eastern history; c) Cheryl was not reading about Middle Eastern history (though she is interested in Iran, which it turned out is how she knew about Gertrude Bell); d) We had been on holiday, so we hadn’t been watching news stories about Iraq or anything else to do with the Middle East (and indeed, this would have been before the invasion of Iraq); e) I didn’t even know that I knew about Gertrude Bell – indeed, I’m not sure I did know about her; f) Just the weirdness of the way I’d got it right”.
If that’s the case, my question is not so much why you found out who the person was, but why Chery thought of her in the first place, or, moreover, why both of you had her somewhat in mind. I don’t believe that’s random, and I am pretty sure there was some underlying reason for you both thinking at the same time of the same person, some information (the front page in a magazine in the airport press-shop or whatever) that you both unconciously registered, and popped up when playing the game. I would say you shouldn’t underestimate the power of what you think you have not perceived.
What surprises me if your willingness to present as inexplicable what is simply unexplained. It’s true that ‘you’ cannot explain why it happened, but it does not mean that there is no straightforward explanation for this, beyond pure chance.
I, myself, had once a more ‘inexplicable’, quite terrifying experience than yours. I won’t bother you with the tale, but it involved physical phenomena and not simply any kind of psychic powers. The fact that I was not and I’ll never be able to explain it, only accounts for my lacking all the clues to solve the riddle. It shook me when it happened, and it intrigues me when I remember it, but I won’t say it’d have been beyond my reach to explain, with the usual ‘naturalistic’ tools, had I have the missing information.
Everything else is wishful thinking.
Persinger I like, although as Ramachandran points out, just because neuroscientists now know how to produce these experiences by deliberated stimulation of particular brain areas, that does not mean that the things that the brain is built to be sensitive to normally (i.e. God ) is not there. But then I go onto Dawkins proposal that this mechanism developed because it conferred some evolutionary advantage and that there is no reason at all to suppose it has anything at all with experiencing god. So, OK, a person has the experience. The idea that it is ‘god’ is not supportable just because of that. I can understand why they are not convinced by atheists. It is simply because they cannot think straight. I have never doubted that they have experiences. I hav e had them myself.
Jerry – “the possibility that there is some other natural mechanism going on which we do not yet understand.”
Yes. Why are people so uncomfortable with this mindset ?
Richard Dawkins gives what I think is a good discussion of this sort of thing in Unweaving the Rainbow, chapter 7. Consider the PETWHAC, the Population of Events That Would Have Appeared Coincidental. In any given hour, number of vehicles with at least one frightened passenger going down scary road somewhere in the world, 1 million (at a guess). Probability that these vehicles will encounter blow-out/ landslide/ goats round blind bend/ driver having heart attack/ etc 0.001 (at another guess). Number of such incidents expected world-wide in any given hour, 1000. Doesn’t in any way stop them seeming amazing to the passenger, of course.
Number of pairs somewhere in the world doing 20 questions in any given five-minute slot 1000 (maybe). Number of “impossible to guess” persons that one player can think of in one minute with constraint that other player has at least heard of them, I guess quite small, maybe less than 10, but it doesn’t really matter. Probability that other player will guess correctly, as tiny as you like, say 1 in a million (but come on, can you name a million people?) Expected number of freaky correct guesses in a week (= 2016 five-minute slots): 2.
Again, doesn’t stop the people who guess right finding it real spooky. And, I accept, doesn’t explain the conviction before you state your guess that you have psychic knowledge. For that, see Lewis Wolpert on the belief engine. Humans are astonishingly good at seeing miracles (X went to Lourdes and her arthritis got, a bit, better) and filtering out the boring (x million other people went and only got a lousy plastic statue of Bernadette).
Nicholas
I’m afraid I can’t reply to everybody – too much time would be required.
But Nicholas, it was exactly the chapter of Dawkins that I think is deficient.
And I think you’re underestimating the strangeness here. With the 20 questions scenario, it isn’t simply that I guessed right. It is that I said in advance I was going to guess right, I then had the experience that I knew the right answer, I told Cheryl that I knew the right answer, and then I told her the right answer.
If I had just taken what had seemed to me to be a lucky shot at it, and got it right, I would have been a bit stunned, but thought nothing more of it.
Something like what Enrique has flagged up is a possible explanation (though wouldn’t account for the veridical nature of the experience).
The good thing about the 20 questions example is that there is an independent witness. And I think I’m right in saying that I have talked about this with Ophelia in the presence of Cheryl, who confirmed that it happened as I described (though I could be misremembering).
Of course there is a naturalistic explanation (anything wouldn’t be any kind of explanation). But it is a lovely example of precisely the kind of complacency about explanations that I think is a worry where you have a whole load of people who are committed to more or less the same worldview that people are so keen to explain away this stuff by invoking coincidence, when it seems perfectly possible that there might be other mechanisms at work that we either don’t yet understand, or that we understand but will always be epistemologically in the dark about in these situations (e.g., the possibility that you’ve both seen a magazine cover).
The guessing a person’s name without any questions is an impressive magic trick performed by Derren Brown ( with a show on Channel 4 in the UK).
He explained how it worked too.
As far as I remember, it relies on a strong visual cue given to the person thinking of a name, up to 15 minutes before hand. (A painting of Churchill on the wall, or whatever). They don’t remember the cue, but the face springs to mind when they get asked to think of someone.
I would guess you’d both been exposed to a picture of Gertrude Bell in the very recent past, and your sub-conscious did the rest.
It is a nice trick, but it’s only a trick.
Tim
Isn’t this what Feyerabend was getting at in ‘Against Method’?
“I would guess you’d both been exposed to a picture of Gertrude Bell in the very recent past”
Possible. Except – I didn’t actually know Gertrude Bell’s name; I just knew what she had done. If I had seen a picture, then – how would I have known what she’d done (but not her name)?
And why the verdical experience beforehand?
Also, the other point about the possibility that we had both been exposed to the same cue – is that this all occurred after we had been playing the 20 questions game for about half an hour.
So again – that doesn’t really add up.
There is a naturalistic explanation, but it’s quite difficult to come up with one which makes sense of all the data.
“I think you’re underestimating the strangeness here. With the 20 questions scenario, it isn’t simply that I guessed right. It is that I said in advance I was going to guess right, I then had the experience that I knew the right answer, I told Cheryl that I knew the right answer, and then I told her the right answer.”
No, Jerry, we’re not underestimating the strangeness of your story. It is the strangeness that makes these stories so compelling, and make some us addicted to ‘true’ ghost stories. The real issue for me is that if, in spite of all your prior assurance, you had guessed wrong, you would have forgotten the whole thing by now, and we would have missed a nice story.
For me, the moral of these experiences is as follows: it is licit for the unconscious mind to jump to conclusions (I know what you’re guessing), but it is not so for the conscious mind (since I knew it, I am able to read your mind).
OK, this could be a bit boring as many people have similar stories. But I have had at least one experience of this kind and I don’t think I’m a nut so bear with me. I was 14, lying in bed at boarding school, just about to go to sleep, when I vividly “saw” my father walking our dog during daylight, just a few yards from our garden gate. My father was suddenly pulled over by the dog and then lay motionless on the ground. That was it. The “vision” must have lasted only a few seconds and I told no one about it. I just thought, that’s a bit odd, but I had no sense of knowing anything. A few days later I received a letter from home saying that this is exactly what had happened and that my father had in fact broken his leg. Even at that age, I classed myself as a sceptic and rationalist, but I find it hard to believe (though cannot exclude) that this was a coincidence or that I am, or was, mistaken in some way. For one thing, the QUALITY of my experience was like no other that I have ever had and it remains pretty fresh in my memory: (1) the “vision” came upon me without any prior chain of thought; (2) I suddenly felt very cold when it was over; and (3) the “vision” was jerky, like a film with most of the frames taken out. But it was, of course, my experience, unrepeatable, private and impossible to verify, so it isn’t going to persuade anyone of anything – it merely suggests to me that there may be certain uncommon facets of human experience and its relationship to time and space and perhaps other minds that we do not understand (and what’s new in that?) but on which science may one day, by some as yet unexplored route of investigation, throw light. The reports of reliable and rational people of unexlained experiences like this may thus have some heuristic value.
The argument for religion from people’s (wildly incompatible) inner “religious experiences” is surely a completely different kettle of fish. I don’t see how tentatively wondering whether there may be a scientific explanation for unproven but at least possible things like premonitions has any epistomological parallel with implausible supernatural conclusions leapt at by a religionist based upon his or her private experience.
“I was in a car pulling a massive caravan”
Visions of the Flintstones and holes in the floorboard – imagine that.
On my above calculation (which may of course be wrong), expected number of freaky correct zero-questions guesses in a year, about 100. Expected number when guesser also has an intense prior conviction that guess is right, I don’t know, but not zero. Zero-questions players vary (I guess!) from those who are sure every time that they are guessing right, to those (like Jerry maybe?) who have only had this conviction once in a lifetime. If, say, 1 in 10 zero-questions players have the veridical experience, then, on my calculation, the expected number of soothsayings in a year is 10.
As Richard Dawkins comments, “it is much harder to shake the feeling of spine-chilled awe when the coincidence happens to you yourself”. But “each one of us … amounts to a very large population of opportunities for coincidence.”
I don’t rule out, a priori, the possibility that (some?) humans have ways of reading (some?) other humans’ thoughts that current science doesn’t cover. And I agree with other commenters that there could have been cues which made Jerry’s guess, and conviction, less amazing than it appeared.
I do rule out, because I hold to a naturalistic world-view, “(some) humans have magic psychic powers which are, in principle and forever, incapable of explanation.” I am reinforced in this view because, as far as I know, when psychics have been investigated under controlled conditions, they have turned out to be either (a) frauds; or (b) unable to perform as they sincerely believed they could.
“The real issue for me is that if, in spite of all your prior assurance, you had guessed wrong, you would have forgotten the whole thing by now, and we would have missed a nice story.”
Actually I don’t think I would have forgotten the whole thing by now. The experience was that strange.
The trouble is, of course, we’re in the realms of the unfalsifiable. I don’t expect you guys to believe that I wouldn’t have forgotten it.
That’s interesting Itsjustme.
I understand entirely about the quality of the experience.
The point about religious experience is that if the experience a religious believer has of God has the same veridical quality, then… well they’re not going to be convinced of atheism just because you can show that the ontological proof is incoherent.
Russell Stannard (the physicist) told me that his experience of God during prayer was such that he just knew that God existed. If his experience of God has a similar undeniability to it as our strange experiences, then – well it’s possible to understand why rational argument is probably going to be deficient in persuading him that there is no God.
Knowing what your partner is thinking is one of those strange things that just seems to develop over time. My partner gets really annoyed at me now, because quite often when she begins to tell me about something I already know what she’s going to say 9including these sorts of 20 questions games). I think it is a combination of extensive shared past experience, familiarity with thinking patterns and speech patterns, plus common exposure to precipitating factors, largely unconscious. It is a bit weird, but I wonder how you’d feel about it if you had actually experienced it many times, would it feel less weird then?
Typical, the way everybody waits to discuss things until I’m off the computer and then there’s a flood of conversation. Abs’ly typical. But you’ve dealt with what I’ve been thinking, so that saves me some time –
“for people attracted to the coincidence explanation it is necessary to argue that one should be content with this explanation over and against the possibility that there is some other natural mechanism going on which we do not yet understand.”
Right. But what you say in the post seems to be disputing the efficacy of naturalistic explanations –
“but you’re much less likely to get this kind of challenge if everybody is committed, in a taken-for-granted manner, to the efficacy of naturalistic explanations”
So I wasn’t sure you weren’t suggesting there was a non-naturalistic explanation – so I tried to imagine what kind of thing that might be. If whatever it is caused the experience, then it would be a naturalistic explanation anyway, just not one we were already familiar with. Or perhaps the idea was that the experience was a temporary and local suspension of the normal laws of nature – ? But then, since it made something happen in the natural world, it would still be inside nature, so, naturalistic. I never quite know how to get outside that – can never quite figure out what a really non-naturalistic explanation or cause would be. It’s either a fiction, or not a fiction, in which case it’s part of nature.
“And I think I’m right in saying that I have talked about this with Ophelia in the presence of Cheryl, who confirmed that it happened as I described (though I could be misremembering).”
Yeh. I reminded you of that the other day! But I don’t think we discussed it much, unfortunately – I think we shifted to the Alpine incident.
“I wonder how you’d feel about it if you had actually experienced it many times, would it feel less weird then?”
That’s a point. If you talked more, you would probably find it quite commonplace!
“The point about religious experience is that if the experience a religious believer has of God has the same veridical quality, then… well they’re not going to be convinced of atheism just because you can show that the ontological proof is incoherent.”
Sure. But (speaking just for myself, here) when I argue with theists I’m arguing (I think) with a couple of things that are compatible with that: 1) the idea that personal theistic conviction gives people the right and/or duty to impose theocratic rules on everyone, and 2) the surprisingly lame arguments that theists do keep recycling in newspapers and the like. (But you probably won’t agree with that account of what I’m arguing with!)
“Actually I don’t think I would have forgotten the whole thing by now. The experience was that strange.”
Well, Jerry, in a way I think you’re right: there are few more distressing experiences than an overnight transatlantic flight.
“But what you say in the post seems to be disputing the efficacy of naturalistic explanations”
What I was trying to say is that if people are certain that naturalistic hold sway they are less likely to take serious those kinds of phenomena which *seem* to put this in doubt; that they will be content with explaining away such phenomena, or with ignoring some of the most challenging aspects of said phenomena (in this case the subjective feel of the experience), and to this extent that the explanations that are proffered are more likely than they would be otherwise to be incomplete or deficient (as I think is the case with the coincidence explanation).
So the point is by taking seriously the challenges posed by phenomena which seem to defy naturalistic explanation, we get better naturalistic explanations.
I don’t think there is such a thing as a non-naturalistic explanation; but as a matter of logic that doesn’t mean that there are no phenomena that are impervious to naturalistic explanation (though I don’t think that there are).
Gotcha. And I agree! But then I have little or no problem with the thought that humans don’t know all the naturalistic explanations there are.
Apart from anything else there’s that whole business of how deeply weird the universe itself is.
“but as a matter of logic that doesn’t mean that there are no phenomena that are impervious to naturalistic explanation”
If you say so. But I still can’t figure out how, if a non-naturalistic explanation explains something inside nature, it can be non-naturalistic.
I’m determined to keep Richard Dawkins’ end up here! In 2002, according to the statistics made available by RoSPA, in the UK alone there were 27204 falls involving dogs. (The 04 is spurious – the statistics are scaled up from a sample of Accident & Emergency hospital admissions.) During any given 24 hours, some proportion of dog-owners have a relative or friend who has a dream or a falling-asleep vision or a waking thought about the dog making the owner fall. I don’t know that proportion, but I guess it might be as high as 1 in 1000, and I’d be surprised if it is lower than 1 in a million. If it is 1 in 1000, then in 2002 we should expect, in the UK alone, about 135 of the dog-related falls to have been accompanied by a premonition some time in the preceding 5 days.
“if a non-naturalistic explanation explains something inside nature”
There are no non-naturalistic explanations. But it doesn’t follow that there are no non-naturalistic phenomena (by which one would mean something like there is no naturalistic explanation of them – and therefore no explanation at all).
It’s just a logical point.
If you say so.
Of course one obvious naturalistic explanation of your experience that should never be discounted, as I’ve told you all along, is that Cheryl is playing you for a sucker. I realize you don’t believe that – but you can’t rule it out, can you! And you do know it would be poetic justice. Rain hat – that’s all I will say.
Nicholas
Again it is the nature of the experience. We’re not talking about dreams here. I’m quite happy to suppose that my basketball dream was just a coincidence.
We’re talking about having experiences that are totally outside the normal range of experiences – and then claiming that it’s all about coincidence.
I don’t really have time to do this properly. But here’s what you have to buy into if you buy into the coincidence line.
1. I have an experience which in my life is unique;
2. This experience is part of the natural world, therefore, it has a natural explanation;
3. However, this explanation can have nothing to do with what follows the experience, which is simply a coincidence.
I just find the disjunction between 2. and 3. almost unbelievable given the uniqueness of the experience (in my life). But you have to think it more likely that there is an explanation of the experience that has nothing to do with what follows than that it is true that coincidence is not what is going on here.
I can happily believe the disjunction between 2. and 3. in the case of dreams, because we dream every night, it’s an understood phenomenon, etc.
But that’s not what I’m describing.
“but you can’t rule it out, can you!”
Yeah, but if you’d seen the look on her face. Also, I reminded her yesterday about the fact that I didn’t even know Gertrude Bell’s name – and her reaction was: “Please, I really don’t want to think about this again.” She was majorly freaked out by it.
I know, I know – I said you don’t believe it, and of course that’s why. But then if she were playing you, she’d act up a storm, wouldn’t she.
Mind you, I don’t believe it either, particularly; but the point is, you can’t rule it out.
Yes, but I also can’t rule out the coincidence explanation (not in principle). But when one is reasoning to the best explanation neither the Cheryl lying to me, nor the coincidence theory, is the most plausible (in my view).
The point being that we should not be content with implausible explanations just because they explain away phenomena that are uncomfortable for the naturalistic worldview (which I think is where we came in!).
Hmm. I’m not so sure about that. I was just about to add that, really, the faking out possibility is less incredible than the situation you describe (at least, if we consent to view it the way you do – if we take on the personal experience aspect – which we have to do on trust). So from an Ockham’s razor/Hume on miracles point of view, we’re perhaps compelled to think it’s more likely that Cheryl faked you out than that it happened exactly as you describe it.
To put it another way, that’s really not an inherently implausible explanation. It is to you, but not to anyone else.
But it would be implausible to everybody else if they:
a) Had seen Cheryl’s reaction;
b) Knew Cheryl;
I have epistemological privilege here!
Also, you don’t think Cheryl is making this up, so you can’t think it less incredible than the situation that I describe…
Added to this, the faking me out thing doesn’t make psychological sense. What Cheryl wanted to do was to take me down for being so bumptious! Not encourage me by making me think I’ve got special powers!
Ha! I know! I was thinking that – that she’d made a bit of a miscalculation, considering how it’s augmented your bumptiousness. Thinking she probably regrets it bitterly, and that’s why she didn’t want to talk about it. cackle.
“Also, you don’t think Cheryl is making this up, so you can’t think it less incredible than the situation that I describe…”
Yes I can. I said inherently implausible. I don’t really think she is making it up, but that’s for all sorts of non-epistemic reasons, really. Viewed from the outside, as if it were a board game or something, I don’t think it is at all implausible.
And consider – really, you yourself have legitimate epistemic reasons to entertain that possibility; you have sustained elaborate lies for purposes of joking, so how can you possibly be certain that Cheryl hasn’t simply decided to top you in that department? How can you possibly be sure she’s not planning to tell you as much in five years or so?
What is epistemological privilege? Is there such a thing? It sounds like some kind of dressing up of subjective or inner knowledge – which would be inadmissable in any court of law, let alone a lab.
I’ve been out several hours but talk about icoincidence. I come back and find the conversation exactly where my thoughts had gone while buying flatpack furniture!
Cheryl was bored stiff with your game. For herself, she wanted it stopped.
It was nothing to do with you.
Get over it.
Ooh, blue – that’s spooky. Must have been your run-in with Geller.
The thing is though that this is precisely the explaining away that I both expect, and think is undesirable.
Basically, it’s a move that relies on the fact that one can never have direct access to the content of other people’s minds, in order to render said contents inadmissible as data in scientific explanation.
Of course it’s possible that Cheryl was faking me; of course it’s possible that I’m just making this whole thing up and Cheryl is in cahoots with me; it’s also possible that it was just a massively unlikely coincidence.
But if one automatically retreats to those positions in order to explain away phenomena that are troubling for the naturalistic worldview, then that simply confirms the charge that motivates this posting.
Yes, I see that – in fact I was just saying as much in the interim – thus:
The trouble is that to an outsider the fake-out explanation is more plausible. In order to accept that it’s less so, everyone has to take your word for how things were – and taking people’s word for how things were isn’t how science works. So it’s really not illegitimate for outsiders to be at least skeptical of your account, and to consider more plausible naturalistic explanations. Yes, that still leaves us inside the methodological naturalism that is at issue, that is weakened by the absence of dissent, but the alternative seems to be to collapse into an excessive credulity, and that’s not really great practice either.
I do see what you’re getting at, but I don’t see how to get around the problem that subjective accounts are unreliable.
Which is not to say that your account should be ignored; I think it’s interesting and very puzzling; stuff like that should be researched (and is, I assume). But I’m not sure how you get around the credulity problem.
P.S. I don’t think I am explaining away. For one thing, I’m not committed to the idea that Cheryl was lying – and I don’t think she was. I’m pointing out a hole, which is a different thing.
There’s an interesting issue here, because the trouble is, this business of being skeptical and cautious about accepting personal testimony on blind faith is both a valid methodological rule and an evasive tactic. It can be either or both at any given time, and there doesn’t really seem to be anything that can be done about that. That’s true in courtrooms too. Evidence can be entirely true and still be ruled out as hearsay. Objections can be (and are) evasive tactics but still raise valid points. I take myself to be not automatically dismissing your account in order to avoid questioning naturalistic views, I take myself to be raising perfectly valid objections to accepting your account on faith – but of course the upshot is the same (except that in fact I do believe your account, but that’s for largely non-epistemic reasons, as I said, and it’s also despite the fact that you have told me many times what a liar you are!).
The trouble is here that I think epistemological privilege does come into play.
I’ve just told Cheryl about your hypothesis. Her response – and these were her words – was that “there’s no credible argument for that”.
Because:
1. People can’t actually act very well; it’s incredibly difficult to fake an emotion like shock; we’re very good at picking this kind of stuff up (intuitive psychology);
2. It doesn’t make psychological sense: in the context of a competitive exchange, Cheryl wanted to take me down – not puff me up;
3. Although it is true that I enjoy “jokes” that rely on deception, etc., it isn’t true of Cheryl;
4. Why continue the conceit for this long? It’s not as if we’ve talked about this in the last year. Cheryl couldn’t even remember Gertrude Bell’s name when I mentioned it to her the other day.
But, of course, your general point about personal testimony is correct. There is absolutely no doubt that we have to be very cautious with it. (The unusual thing about my experience is that there is someone to confirm it.)
Don’t forget, though, there is one person here who knows whether Cheryl was faking – and that’s Cheryl…
“Don’t forget, though, there is one person here who knows whether Cheryl was faking – and that’s Cheryl…”
I know. That’s Cheryl – and not you.
I realize all that about the reasons it’s not credible, but it’s still (to impartial observers) less incredible than, say, telepathy. Don’t blame me, blame Hume!
“The unusual thing about my experience is that there is someone to confirm it.”
But she can’t actually confirm it (as of course you know). She can confirm that she saw what it looked like, but she can’t confirm your experience.
You’re hammering on an open door, in a way – because as I keep saying, I believe your account, and I think it’s interesting. But if you were going to publish it in a scientific journal, for instance, everyone would be pointing out how unreliable it all is.
“but she can’t confirm your experience.”
Yes, but she can confirm that I said prior to answering that I knew the answer. Or at least, she could have done – almost certainly she won’t remember now, because, as I said, we really haven’t talked about it since!
“everyone would be pointing out how unreliable it all is.”
Well it wouldn’t get published at all.
Yes, I get that. Also believe it. And that probably is why the whole account is interesting.
Poor Cheryl! In pondering it yesterday I imagined it from her point of view for the first time – and realized how awful it must have been! You said bumptiously you were going to know, she said yeah right – so she must have taken care to think of something you’d never think of – and then you did. Of course she looked as if she’d been hit by a truck! The bumptious quotient had just gone up by a factor of ten.
It was like me listening to that thing on the radio, only vastly more so.
Yeah, except of course I was already so bumptious, even back then, that increases in bumptiousness probably had little effect.
Let’s talk about the radio thing again! :)
Actually – it’s just occurred to me – that could be part of the explanation. You both thought of the most unlikely person you could think of at short notice. You both reached for the most absurdly unavailable person possible – and whatever buried (forgotten) trigger it was that suggested G Bell was what you both hit on. That’s still a massive coincidence, but it does make sense…
Could even explain why you ‘knew’. Without realizing it, you knew you’d hit on the most unlikely candidate possible – the perfect person to think of in order to stump the guesser. I bet that made a kind of triumphant click in your head – ‘Aha! That would do it! I bet she’ll – ‘ It was that click of ‘perfect’ (as if you’d been the one looking for the stumper) that felt like the click of knowing – which in a way it was.
Crossed.
No, no, the radio thing should never have happened! Your microphone should have shorted out at the crucial moment. I can still hear you – ‘I think there’s a contradiction there.’ Groan.
One other possibility which I don’t think has come up yet is the possibility that at least some of the events or emotions recounted in the story chain were actually constructed after the fact, and yet remembered as happening before the fact. In studies on memory confabulation, this is not unusual. Thus, the sense of certainty — or the memory of you saying you were certain — or even Cheryl’s selection of the Bell woman — really took place *after* your guess, not before. But that’s not how it felt then, and it’s certainly not how it feels now. Depending on what was confabulated, it need be only one person doing the confabulation, though both of you retelling the story and making appropriate revisions in your heads is also possible.
One of the points made again and again in those books on the unreliability of personal testimony is that that our memories are not infallible little video cameras which play back only what went in, and always in the order it happened. Even in controlled studies there are many examples of people retelling a chain of events which simply did not happen that way: sometimes even video evidence or confessions of fraud will not shake the sense of certainty that no, it really happened the way it was remembered. Once the limbic system gets entangled with a recollection, it won’t be revised. You get that mysterious immutable surety.
I’m not trying to ‘dismiss’ the story either. It could have happened exactly as you said, in order, no mistakes. But as Ophelia points out, we have a kind of *duty* to bring up plausible alternatives.
Spooooooky – that’s exactly what I was going to say. Really. I’ve been off the computer for awhile, and I was going to talk about confabulation when I got back on, along with that famous experiment – you know, the lecturer, the guy rushes in and steals a briefcase, everyone is questioned and no two accounts agree.
But in fact I told Jerry all this yesterday – after reading some Adolf Grünbaum on Freud. Jerry said yes but. But it occurred to me again, with renewed force, just now. Jerry, you really can’t be sure you have the memory intact. Especially since you have all these ideas about it – they could so easily have shaped what you remember. And one thing I’m really convinced of is that you shouldn’t call this kind of thing ‘explaining away’. It’s not. It’s simply applying known, tested, reasonable criteria to a narrative. It’s seeing if there are weak spots. Sastra’s right: it’s our duty!
The trouble is that this is all unfalsifiable. If you say, well maybe it’s just reconstructed memory, there’s nothing I can say to rule this out.
I can point out that I first told this story almost immediately after the event, and that the story hasn’t substantively changed since then (there’s evidence of this). I can say to you that Cheryl is telling the same story. I can tell you that there are other people I told the story to immediately after the event, and they will tell you that it hasn’t changed.
But I can’t demonstrate that my memory, and/or Cheryl’s memory, didn’t go wrong five minutes, or ten minutes, or 24 hours after this all happened.
But it’s the same point as before; if one treats every datum that it is possible to doubt, as being inadmissible, then likely that rules out all subjective experience, and since subjective experience is part of the natural world (unless you’re an eliminativist about consciousness), naturalistic explanations will be incomplete.
Which, I say again, is the point I’m making here!
Well, sure. Is that all you’re saying? But we already know that, don’t we?! Of course naturalistic explanations are incomplete because they can’t rely on subjective experience. I thought that was just common knowledge. Isn’t it?
After all (she continued an hour later) that’s why we like to read novels and autobiographies as well as history as well as science; it’s why we like to watch soaps and ‘Wife Swap’ and chick flicks as well as car chases and football.
I wrote an essay largely about all this for the cafe about three years ago.
No, they’re not incomplete because they can’t rely on subjective experience (though they might be); they’re incomplete because to the extent that sujective is inadmissible as a datum, naturalistic explanations simply don’t talk about part of the natural world.
You know, it’s the old behaviourist, black box thing.
Nick wrote: “Jerry – ‘the possibility that there is some other natural mechanism going on which we do not yet understand.’
Yes. Why are people so uncomfortable with this mindset?”
Where is the evidence that people ARE uncomfortable with this mindset?
Jerry’s example, despite his protestations, is most economically explained by coincidence.
Due to certain qualities of the experience, he feels that this explanation is inadequate.
All that is required for the “coincidence” explanation is that people occasionally have the inexplicable feeling that they are right: I’ve had it, so I expect others have too.
Jerry: “Of course there is a naturalistic explanation…but it is a lovely example of precisely the kind of complacency about explanations that I think is a worry where you have a whole load of people who are committed to more or less the same worldview that people are so keen to explain away this stuff by invoking coincidence, when it seems perfectly possible that there might be other mechanisms at work that we either don’t yet understand, or that we understand but will always be epistemologically in the dark about in these situations (e.g., the possibility that you’ve both seen a magazine cover).”
The ONLY reason I see that Jerry calls it “complacency” is that he seems to be attracted to some more mysterious explanation which does not involve coincidence.
Apart from other mundane explanations (both had seen something recently but forgotten it, Cheryl was cheating, etc.), *any* non-coincidence explanation seems to me to require some sort of paranormal phenomenon for which there is no evidence, despite intensive investigation.
Calling the coincidence explanation “complacent” is a tricksey way of criticising it without actually providing any compelling evidence against it.
I agree with Keith. Jerry wrote:
>But here’s what you have to buy into if you buy into the coincidence line.
>1. I have an experience which in my life is unique;
To me, the uniqueness is the only surprising bit. I, and the other five people I have asked, have had this sort of experience several times. Pregnant women, and their mothers/friends, often “know” the sex of their baby even if they have not had a scan, or it wasn’t obvious from the scan. Last week I “knew” there was a gate into a wood from the top corner of a field. Turned out I was wrong. I’ve seen attributed to Mencken the wise saw that there are two kinds of prophets: those who don’t know, and those who don’t know that they don’t know.
>2. This experience is part of the natural world, therefore, it has a natural explanation;
Just so. Or several explanations, because the experience is not necessarily uniform. The explanations could include reliance on cues or evidence that the subject cannot articulate. Or maybe there was once a selective advantage in sometimes being convinced you know when really you don’t. If I’m a tribal leader in 30000 BCE, my tribe will do better if I announce that I’m sure there is better hunting upstream, than if I dither about trying to find evidence to choose between going upstream or downstream. Maybe that’s why Tony Blair said he knew there were weapons of mass destruction in Iraq.
>3. However, this explanation can have nothing to do with what follows the experience, which is simply a coincidence.
Up to a point. If the explanations include subliminal evidence, then it is of interest whether the evidence turned out to be viridical. However, Jerry, if you have the same experience again, for example making you sure you know that shares in XYZ will go up 50% next week, will you buy the shares? If Cheryl had said “nah, I was thinking of Catsmeat Potter-Pirbright”, would you have told her she was lying, or would your brain have exploded, or what?
I don’t doubt that Russell Stannard sincerely knows that his god is present (sometimes?) when he is praying. But does he ever ask this god to do anything falsifiable? Bring peace to Iraq by next Tuesday, for example?
Guys
At this point, I think we are just repeating the same ground. You think that I overestimate the probability calculation; I think you underestimate it.
Plus there’s a lot of stuff about the reliability of the testimony.
I think this outcome was entirely predictable. :)
I’m bowing out now, simply because I have other things I really have to do.
Oh well. I guess we’re convicted of complacency by default.
“The point about religious experience is that if the experience a religious believer has of God has the same veridical quality, then… well they’re not going to be convinced of atheism just because you can show that the ontological proof is incoherent.
“Russell Stannard (the physicist) told me that his experience of God during prayer was such that he just knew that God existed. If his experience of God has a similar undeniability to it as our strange experiences, then – well it’s possible to understand why rational argument is probably going to be deficient in persuading him that there is no God.”
But this isn’t the same experience as the one you described! You just knew you were going to guess right – then you did indeed guess right; you made a prediction that came true. Someone who prays has a strong feeling of God’s existence – then, what? Nothing inexplicable happens; they just leave with the certainty of God’s existence? People who have psychic readings often come away certain that they were really communicating with a lost loved one. I was certain I left my keys on the desk the other day, but they were in my jacket. So what?
Another possibility for the guessing game: maybe Cheryl wasn’t having you on, but maybe Gertrude Bell was one of several people she was vaguely considering, but after you described the person you were thinking of, you surreptitiously convinced her that it was indeed that person she was thinking of. Look how you described what happened – it sounds like you said you were going to make a guess before she’d had a chance to come up with someone!
“The thing is though that this is precisely the explaining away that I both expect, and think is undesirable.”
Well, we’re just offering possibilities. Since we do not and never will have enough data on this particular event, we cannot go beyond speculation (and neither can you). The fact that these possibilities are highly implausible is irrelevant – they are no less fantastic than just assuming there really was a genuine psychic occurence.
“Jerry’s example, despite his protestations, is most economically explained by coincidence.”
That seems like cheating, though. Suppose psychic phenomena really are genuine, if they are rare enough then chance will nevertheless always win via Occam’s Razor.
“Since we do not and never will have enough data on this particular event, we cannot go beyond speculation (and neither can you). The fact that these possibilities are highly implausible is irrelevant – they are no less fantastic than just assuming there really was a genuine psychic occurence.”
Which is why it’s annoying to be called complacent and predictable.
“Suppose psychic phenomena really are genuine, if they are rare enough then chance will nevertheless always win via Occam’s Razor.”
Yes. That’s part of why the idea is interesting. What (for instance) are or could be the rules for thinking about and inquiring into and doing research on phenomena that exist but are extremely rare? If Jerry really did for one second read Cheryl’s mind, is there any conceivable way to try to replicate that?
But then, even if there isn’t, and it has to remain an open question, I’m not sure I see that really changes anything. Since science is already open-ended and revisable; since fallibilism is already formally part of methodological naturalism; since conclusions are already on principle subject to change if/when new evidence turns up; since proof and certainty are (contrary to public and journalistic understanding) off the menu – I’m not sure I see what that changes.
“You think that I overestimate the probability calculation; I think you underestimate it.”
Tentative translation into plain English: “You think very unlikely events happen sometimes. I think very unlikely events are miracles.”
Nicholas
No, I get it; on second thought, that ‘entirely predictable’ wasn’t a gratuitous parting insult or a way of declaring victory without argument, it was a compliment. I’ve got to learn to read more charitably. JS meant that B&W readers are so clever and insightful that he was (non-miraculously) able to predict that our comments would be clever and insightful too. Thanks!
No, no, I get it! What was entirely predictable was that JS would dismiss whatever anyone said as complacent and undesirable because he’d decided in advance that whatever anyone said would be complacent and undesirable because that was the point he was making, so therefore it was logically impossible that anyone could say anything relevant or interesting or valid, so we might as well all have saved our breaths, or typing energy, because the outcome was entirely predictable. Oh well.
OB: “No, no, I get it! What was entirely predictable was that JS would dismiss whatever anyone said as complacent and undesirable because he’d decided in advance…”
OB, you’ve nailed it!
It’s why “true believers” will (almost) always conclude that skeptics have closed minds.
Keith,
Yup. But – one expects that kind of thing from ID supporters and homeopathy fans, but it’s more than a little strange coming from JS. Especially when combined with accusations of complacency. I’m…confused.
No, I guess I get it. I read the comments again carefully, and I guess I get it. I don’t agree, for the simple reason that I don’t think anyone can expect other people to be as convinced (or epistemically influenced) by his experience as he was; but I think I get the basic point.
OB, I can understand that some-one can have an experience which is so compelling that they, personally, can’t accept prosaic explanations.
But that is as far as I get…
Keith, yes, but the additional point is that if we consider only the more obvious (to us anyway) explanations – coincidence, error, confabulation, cheating or joking, etc – then we overlook the more interesting potential naturalistic explanations. We pass up the opportunity to consider natural phenomena that haven’t been discovered yet – and perhaps, because they’re so rare and thus unrepeatable and untestable, never will.
I still disagree, because I still say someone else’s reported experience can’t possibly be as compelling to other people as it is to the person who had it; but I think I get the basic idea.
The first seems to be a case of vertigo which caused you to want to go slowly, and which received a priveleged weight after the bursting of the tire. The second means little, since you have no evidence that throwing the ball would actually have dislocated your shoulder. The third is a little more complex, probably based both on a close knowledge of your partner, linked to a common impetus that you had both forgotten but which had led you both to the same thought. I’ve had similar coincidences, only to remember at some later time seeing the topic in the paper or on TV.
The power of the experience is a different matter. These experiences convert people, or support their religious beliefs, because they want to believe it–it already fits into a constellation of compatible beliefs. There is a terrible symmetry between rational-empirical and magical-supernaturalist thinking. Both come to justify themselves through experience, by giving strong weight to those experiences which support them and discounting and questioning those that don’t. The difference is revealed only in systematic practicality. People will trust a plane to carry them across a continent, but no sane person will trust an angel to carry them off a roof. Still, the proof of science and reason is in the practice, which requires some level of attachment to the method in order to see it work. Its power is not obvious at the outset, and many who learn about science in school partition that knowledge from their everyday lives. Skepticism remains a foreign practice, a trick they learned in school to pass the test, and then forgot. Choosing a scientific world view requires as much an initial leap of faith as any religion, because the original choice of allegiance must, by definition, be uninformed.