Skepticism and Spiritualism
by G.K. Chesterton
(From an essay which originally appeared in the ILLUSTRATED LONDON NEWS, April 14, 1906)
Glancing over several papers of late, I see such headings as “Another Medium Exposed,” and “Another Spiritualistic Fraud.” The easy and conventional comments made upon the matter by the journalists seem to me to be singularly lacking in a logical sense, and there seems to be an underlying assumption in all such comments that the more often you discover a dishonest medium or a fraudulent seance, the more you have diminished the credit or probability of spiritualism. I have never been at a seance in my life, and I never had, and probably never shall have, anything to do with the specific set of people who call themselves spiritualists. But as a mere matter of intellectual justice or mental lucidity, it is desirable to protest against this confused argument which connects the proved falsity of knaves with the probable falsity of psychic phenomena. The two things have no logical connection whatever. No conceivable number of false mediums affects the probability of the existence of real mediums one way or the other. This is surely obvious enough. No conceivable number of forged bank-notes can disprove the existence of the Bank of England. If anything, the argument might as well be turned the other way,; we might say with rather more reason that as all hypocrisies are the evil fruits of public virtue, so in the same way the more real spiritualism there is in the world the more false spiritualism there is likely to be.
In fact, the mere abstract rationality of this problem is very wrongly discussed. For instance, it is always considered ludicrous and a signal for a burst of laughter if the spiritualists say that a seance has been spoiled by the presence of a skeptic, or that an attitude of faith is necessary to encourage the psychic communications. But there is nothing at all unreasonable or unlikely about the idea that doubt might discourage and faith encourage spiritual communications, if there are any. The suggestion does not make spiritualism in abstract logic any more improbable. All that it does make it is more difficult. There is nothing foolish or fantastic about the supposition that a dispassionate person acts as a deterrent to passionate truths. Only it happens to make it much harder for any dispassionate person to find out what is true. There are a thousand practical parallels. An impartial psychologist studying the problem of human nature could, no doubt, learn a great deal from a man and woman making love to each other in his presence. None the less, it is unfortunately the fact that no man and woman would make love to each other in the presence of an impartial psychologist. Students of physiology and surgery might learn something from a man suddenly stabbing another man on a platform in a lecture-theater. But no man would stab another man on a platform in a lecture-theater. A schoolmaster would learn much if the boys would be boys in his presence; but they never are boys in his presence. An educationalist studying infancy might make important discoveries if he could hear the things said by a baby when absolutely alone and at his ease with his mother. But it is quite obvious that the mere entrance of a great ugly educationalist (they are an ugly lot) would set the child screaming with terror.
The problem, then, of skepticism and spiritual ecstacies is a perfectly human and intelligible problem to state, though it may be a difficult problem to solve. It is exactly as if a man pointed at some lady (you can choose the lady out of your own acquaintance at your own discretion) and said with marked emphasis, “Under no circumstance could I address a sonnet to that lady.” We might reply, “Oh, yes; if you fell in love with her you might feel inclined to do so.” He would be fully justified in replying (with tears in his eyes), “But I cannot fall in love with her by any imaginable process.” But he would not be logically justified in replying “Oh, that is all nonsense. You want me to give up my judgment, and become a silly partisan.” The whole question under discussion is what would happen if he did become a partisan. In the same way, the skeptic who is expelled with bashed hat and tattered coat-tails from a spiritualistic seance has a perfect right to say (with or without tears in his eyes) “But why blame me for unbelief? I cannot manage to believe in such things by any imaginable process.” But he has no logical right to say that it could not have been his skepticism that spoilt the seance, or that there was anything at all unphilosophical in supposing that it was. An impartial person is a good judge of many things, but not of all. He is not (for instance) a good judge of what it feels like to be partial.
For my own part, what little I resent in what little I have seen of spiritualism is altogether the opposite element. I do not mind spiritualism, in so far as it is fierce and credulous. In that it seems to me to be akin to sex, to song, to the great epics and the great religions, to all that has made humanity heroic. I do not object to spiritualism in so far as it is spiritualistic. I do object to it in so far as it is scientific. Conviction and curiosity are both very good things. But they ought to have two different houses. There have been many frantic and blasphemous beliefs in this old barbaric earth of ours; men have served their deities with obscene dances, with cannibalism, and the blood of infants. But no religion was quite so blasphemous as to pretend that it was scientifically investigating its god to see what he was made of. Bacchanals did not say, “Let us discover whether there is a god of wine.” They enjoyed wine so much that they cried out naturally to the god of it. Christians did not say, “A few experiments will show us whether there is a god of goodness.” They loved good so much that they knew that it was a god. Moreover, all the great religions always loved passionately and poetically the symbols and machinery by which they worked —the temple, the colored robes, the altar, the symbolic flowers, or the sacrificial fire. It made these things beautiful: it laid itself open to the charge of idolatry. And into these great ritual religions there has descended, whatever the meaning of it, the thing of which Sophocles spoke, “The power of the gods, which is mighty and groweth not old.” When I hear that the spiritualists have begun to carve great golden wings upon their flying tables, I shall recognize the atmosphere of a faith. When I hear them accused of worshipping a planchet made of ivory and sardonyx (whatever that is) I shall know that they have become a great religion. Meanwhile, I fear I shall remain one of those who believe in spirits much too easily ever to become a spiritualist. Modern people think the supernatural so improbable that they want to see it. I think it so probable that I leave it alone. Spirits are not worth all this fuss; I know that, for I am one myself…
Skepticism and Spiritualism
by G.K. Chesterton
(From an essay which originally appeared in the ILLUSTRATED LONDON NEWS, April 14, 1906)
Glancing over several papers of late, I see such headings as “Another Medium Exposed,” and “Another Spiritualistic Fraud.” The easy and conventional comments made upon the matter by the journalists seem to me to be singularly lacking in a logical sense, and there seems to be an underlying assumption in all such comments that the more often you discover a dishonest medium or a fraudulent seance, the more you have diminished the credit or probability of spiritualism. I have never been at a seance in my life, and I never had, and probably never shall have, anything to do with the specific set of people who call themselves spiritualists. But as a mere matter of intellectual justice or mental lucidity, it is desirable to protest against this confused argument which connects the proved falsity of knaves with the probable falsity of psychic phenomena. The two things have no logical connection whatever. No conceivable number of false mediums affects the probability of the existence of real mediums one way or the other. This is surely obvious enough. No conceivable number of forged bank-notes can disprove the existence of the Bank of England. If anything, the argument might as well be turned the other way,; we might say with rather more reason that as all hypocrisies are the evil fruits of public virtue, so in the same way the more real spiritualism there is in the world the more false spiritualism there is likely to be.
In fact, the mere abstract rationality of this problem is very wrongly discussed. For instance, it is always considered ludicrous and a signal for a burst of laughter if the spiritualists say that a seance has been spoiled by the presence of a skeptic, or that an attitude of faith is necessary to encourage the psychic communications. But there is nothing at all unreasonable or unlikely about the idea that doubt might discourage and faith encourage spiritual communications, if there are any. The suggestion does not make spiritualism in abstract logic any more improbable. All that it does make it is more difficult. There is nothing foolish or fantastic about the supposition that a dispassionate person acts as a deterrent to passionate truths. Only it happens to make it much harder for any dispassionate person to find out what is true. There are a thousand practical parallels. An impartial psychologist studying the problem of human nature could, no doubt, learn a great deal from a man and woman making love to each other in his presence. None the less, it is unfortunately the fact that no man and woman would make love to each other in the presence of an impartial psychologist. Students of physiology and surgery might learn something from a man suddenly stabbing another man on a platform in a lecture-theater. But no man would stab another man on a platform in a lecture-theater. A schoolmaster would learn much if the boys would be boys in his presence; but they never are boys in his presence. An educationalist studying infancy might make important discoveries if he could hear the things said by a baby when absolutely alone and at his ease with his mother. But it is quite obvious that the mere entrance of a great ugly educationalist (they are an ugly lot) would set the child screaming with terror.
The problem, then, of skepticism and spiritual ecstacies is a perfectly human and intelligible problem to state, though it may be a difficult problem to solve. It is exactly as if a man pointed at some lady (you can choose the lady out of your own acquaintance at your own discretion) and said with marked emphasis, “Under no circumstance could I address a sonnet to that lady.” We might reply, “Oh, yes; if you fell in love with her you might feel inclined to do so.” He would be fully justified in replying (with tears in his eyes), “But I cannot fall in love with her by any imaginable process.” But he would not be logically justified in replying “Oh, that is all nonsense. You want me to give up my judgment, and become a silly partisan.” The whole question under discussion is what would happen if he did become a partisan. In the same way, the skeptic who is expelled with bashed hat and tattered coat-tails from a spiritualistic seance has a perfect right to say (with or without tears in his eyes) “But why blame me for unbelief? I cannot manage to believe in such things by any imaginable process.” But he has no logical right to say that it could not have been his skepticism that spoilt the seance, or that there was anything at all unphilosophical in supposing that it was. An impartial person is a good judge of many things, but not of all. He is not (for instance) a good judge of what it feels like to be partial.
Scetticismo e spiritismo
di G.K. Chesterton
(Da un saggio apparso originariamente sull’ILLUSTRATED LONDON NEWS, 14 aprile 1906)
Scorrendo di recente diversi giornali, vedo titoli come «Smascherato un altro medium» e «Un’altra frode spiritica». I commenti facili e convenzionali che i giornalisti fanno sulla questione mi paiono singolarmente privi di senso logico, e sembra esservi, sotto tutti questi commenti, il tacito assunto che, quanto più spesso si scopre un medium disonesto o una seduta fraudolenta, tanto più si sia diminuito il credito o la probabilità dello spiritismo. Non ho mai preso parte a una seduta in vita mia, e non ho mai avuto, e probabilmente mai avrò, nulla a che fare con quella particolare cerchia di persone che si dicono spiritisti. Ma per pura giustizia intellettuale o lucidità mentale, è opportuno protestare contro questo argomento confuso che collega la comprovata falsità dei furfanti con la probabile falsità dei fenomeni psichici. Le due cose non hanno alcuna connessione logica. Nessun numero immaginabile di falsi medium influisce in un senso o nell’altro sulla probabilità dell’esistenza di medium autentici. Ciò è certamente abbastanza ovvio. Nessun numero immaginabile di banconote contraffatte può confutare l’esistenza della Banca d’Inghilterra. Semmai, l’argomento potrebbe ben essere rovesciato; potremmo dire, con assai più ragione, che, come tutte le ipocrisie sono i frutti malvagi della virtù pubblica, così, allo stesso modo, quanto più autentico spiritismo vi è al mondo, tanto più falso spiritismo è probabile che vi sia.
In realtà, la mera razionalità astratta di questo problema è discussa assai malamente. Per esempio, si considera sempre ridicolo, e un segnale che scateni uno scoppio di risa, se gli spiritisti dicono che una seduta è stata rovinata dalla presenza di uno scettico, o che un atteggiamento di fede è necessario per favorire le comunicazioni psichiche. Ma non vi è nulla di irragionevole o d’inverosimile nell’idea che il dubbio possa scoraggiare e la fede incoraggiare le comunicazioni spirituali, ammesso che ve ne siano. Tale supposizione non rende lo spiritismo, in astratta logica, più improbabile. La sola cosa che fa è renderlo più difficile. Non vi è nulla di sciocco o di fantastico nel supporre che una persona spassionata agisca da deterrente rispetto a verità appassionate. Solo che ciò rende assai più arduo, per chiunque sia spassionato, scoprire ciò che è vero. Vi sono mille paralleli pratici. Uno psicologo imparziale che studiasse il problema della natura umana potrebbe, senza dubbio, imparare moltissimo da un uomo e una donna che si facessero l’amore in sua presenza. Ciò nondimeno, è purtroppo un fatto che nessun uomo e nessuna donna si farebbero l’amore in presenza di uno psicologo imparziale. Studenti di fisiologia e di chirurgia potrebbero imparare qualcosa da un uomo che ne pugnalasse improvvisamente un altro su una pedana in un’aula di conferenze. Ma nessun uomo pugnalerebbe un altro su una pedana in un’aula di conferenze. Un maestro imparerebbe molto se i ragazzi fossero ragazzi in sua presenza; ma essi non sono mai ragazzi in sua presenza. Un pedagogista che studiasse l’infanzia potrebbe fare importanti scoperte se potesse udire le cose dette da un bambino quando è del tutto solo e a proprio agio con la madre. Ma è del tutto ovvio che la sola comparsa di un grande, brutto pedagogista (sono una brutta genìa) farebbe strillare il bambino dal terrore.
Il problema, dunque, dello scetticismo e delle estasi spirituali è un problema perfettamente umano e intelligibile da enunciare, per quanto possa essere un problema difficile da risolvere. È esattamente come se un uomo indicasse una qualche dama (potete scegliere la dama tra le vostre conoscenze a vostra discrezione) e dicesse con marcata enfasi: «In nessuna circostanza potrei indirizzare un sonetto a quella dama». Potremmo replicare: «Oh, sì; se ve ne innamoraste potreste sentirvi inclini a farlo». Egli sarebbe pienamente giustificato nel rispondere (con le lacrime agli occhi): «Ma io non posso innamorarmi di lei per alcun processo immaginabile». Non sarebbe però logicamente giustificato nel rispondere: «Oh, sono tutte sciocchezze. Volete che io rinunci al mio giudizio e divenga uno sciocco partigiano». L’intera questione in discussione è che cosa accadrebbe se egli divenisse partigiano. Allo stesso modo, lo scettico che viene cacciato con il cappello ammaccato e le falde della giacca a brandelli da una seduta spiritica ha pieno diritto di dire (con o senza le lacrime agli occhi): «Ma perché biasimarmi per la mia incredulità? Non riesco a credere a simili cose per alcun processo immaginabile». Ma non ha alcun diritto logico di affermare che non possa essere stato il suo scetticismo a rovinare la seduta, o che vi fosse alcunché di antifilosofico nel supporlo. Una persona imparziale è un buon giudice di molte cose, ma non di tutte. Non è (per esempio) un buon giudice di che cosa si provi a essere parziali.
For my own part, what little I resent in what little I have seen of spiritualism is altogether the opposite element. I do not mind spiritualism, in so far as it is fierce and credulous. In that it seems to me to be akin to sex, to song, to the great epics and the great religions, to all that has made humanity heroic. I do not object to spiritualism in so far as it is spiritualistic. I do object to it in so far as it is scientific. Conviction and curiosity are both very good things. But they ought to have two different houses. There have been many frantic and blasphemous beliefs in this old barbaric earth of ours; men have served their deities with obscene dances, with cannibalism, and the blood of infants. But no religion was quite so blasphemous as to pretend that it was scientifically investigating its god to see what he was made of. Bacchanals did not say, “Let us discover whether there is a god of wine.” They enjoyed wine so much that they cried out naturally to the god of it. Christians did not say, “A few experiments will show us whether there is a god of goodness.” They loved good so much that they knew that it was a god. Moreover, all the great religions always loved passionately and poetically the symbols and machinery by which they worked —the temple, the colored robes, the altar, the symbolic flowers, or the sacrificial fire. It made these things beautiful: it laid itself open to the charge of idolatry. And into these great ritual religions there has descended, whatever the meaning of it, the thing of which Sophocles spoke, “The power of the gods, which is mighty and groweth not old.” When I hear that the spiritualists have begun to carve great golden wings upon their flying tables, I shall recognize the atmosphere of a faith. When I hear them accused of worshipping a planchet made of ivory and sardonyx (whatever that is) I shall know that they have become a great religion. Meanwhile, I fear I shall remain one of those who believe in spirits much too easily ever to become a spiritualist. Modern people think the supernatural so improbable that they want to see it. I think it so probable that I leave it alone. Spirits are not worth all this fuss; I know that, for I am one myself…
Da parte mia, quel poco che mi urta in quel poco che ho visto dello spiritismo è tutt’altro elemento. Non ho nulla contro lo spiritismo, in quanto è fervido e credulo. In ciò mi pare affine al sesso, al canto, ai grandi poemi epici e alle grandi religioni, a tutto ciò che ha reso eroica l’umanità. Non obietto allo spiritismo in quanto è spiritualistico. Obietto invece in quanto è scientifico. La convinzione e la curiosità sono entrambe ottime cose. Ma dovrebbero abitare due case diverse. Vi sono state molte credenze frenetiche e blasfeme su questa nostra vecchia terra barbarica; gli uomini hanno servito le loro divinità con danze oscene, col cannibalismo e col sangue dei lattanti. Ma nessuna religione fu tanto blasfema da pretendere di indagare scientificamente il proprio dio per scoprire di che cosa fosse fatto. I baccanti non dicevano: “Scopriamo se esiste un dio del vino.” Godevano tanto del vino che invocavano naturalmente il suo dio. I cristiani non dicevano: “Qualche esperimento ci mostrerà se esiste un dio della bontà.” Amavano tanto il bene da sapere che era un dio. Inoltre, tutte le grandi religioni amarono sempre, con passione e poesia, i simboli e gli apparati mediante cui operavano —il tempio, le vesti variopinte, l’altare, i fiori simbolici, o il fuoco sacrificale. Rendeva belle queste cose: si esponeva all’accusa di idolatria. E in queste grandi religioni rituali è discesa, qualunque ne sia il significato, quella cosa di cui parlò Sofocle: “La potenza degli dèi, che è possente e non invecchia.” Quando sentirò che gli spiritisti hanno cominciato a intagliare grandi ali dorate sui loro tavolini volanti, riconoscerò l’atmosfera di una fede. Quando li sentirò accusati di adorare una tavoletta medianica fatta d’avorio e sardonice (qualunque cosa sia) saprò che sono diventati una grande religione. Nel frattempo, temo che resterò uno di quelli che credono negli spiriti troppo facilmente per diventare mai spiritista. I moderni ritengono il soprannaturale così improbabile che vogliono vederlo. Io lo ritengo così probabile che lo lascio in pace. Gli spiriti non valgono tanto chiasso; lo so bene, perché io stesso ne sono uno…