Historian Andreas Sommer writes: So where did all this
‘atheism’ and opposition to belief in paranormal phenomena come from, which
troubled Boyle and several fellow men of science so much? The consensus of
professional historians of science today is once again completely at odds with
popular standard narratives here. In Boyle’s day, the Enlightenment default
derision of all things ‘paranormal’, which also increasingly came to characterize
religious texts, was first
popularized not by men of science, but by Protestant divines and anti-clerical
though not strictly atheistic ‘free-thinkers’, who typically gathered not in scientific
societies but at court and in fashionable coffee-houses.
Moreover,
free-thinkers in England were often followers of the philosopher Thomas Hobbes,
who – unlike Newton – made no secret of his mortalist theology. This – as well
as the fact that he was a vocal philosophical critic of conventional scientific
experimentalism – was enough to make Hobbes a persona non grata in the Royal Society. Here it’s important to point out that
allegations of ‘atheism’ were hurled freely at anyone with unorthodox
theological convictions, and it can be doubted if Hobbes really denied the
existence of God. It was Hobbes’s expressed Christian materialism, which inevitably provoked
accusations of ‘atheism’ by the intellectual and scientific mainstream of the
time. But while Newton would in secret only reject belief in evil spirits (he was fine
with angels), the Christian materialism of Hobbes was far more thoroughgoing.
This is especially evident in the many attacks on belief in immaterial spirits
and magic in Hobbes’s famous Leviathan. And as we will see in a moment, it is hardly accidental
that the rejection of spirits and magic occurred so prominently in what is now
considered a classical text in political philosophy.
The key lesson of all
this is another insight fundamentally at odds with popular views: In striking
contrast to modern ‘free-thinkers’ since the late nineteenth century, early
Enlightenment scoffers at magic did not claim science as the ultimate cudgel in their war on
belief in the occult. On the contrary, early modern English opponents of magic
in fact often followed Hobbes in holding the collective scientific
experimentalism of the Royal Society in contempt. To assume that the new science
championed by Boyle and colleagues – and here I mean perfectly conventional experimental
sciences, including chemistry and physics – instantly gained prestige would
again mean to write history backwards. In fact, those who began to laugh magic
and spirits out of intellectual discourse also often mocked the new scientific
experimentalism of the Royal Society as a trivial, eccentric fad, unworthy of
men of culture and common sense.
Whereas science
historian Michael Hunter, the leading expert on Boyle and the Royal Society,
has reconstructed in painstaking detail the actual means by which the
‘empirical occult’ was suppressed in Enlightenment Britain, other historians
have presented similar findings for countries including France, Germany and
Italy. The professional consensus regarding the role of science for the supposed
‘disenchantment’ of the world throughout the Enlightenment was nicely captured
in a seminal study of the marginalization of the anomalous by the former
director of the Max Planck Institute for the History of Science in Berlin and a
colleague at Harvard, who observed:
it was
neither rationality nor science nor even secularization that buried the
wondrous for European elites. Enlightenment savants did not embark on anything
like a thorough program to test empirically the strange facts collected so
assiduously by their seventeenth-century predecessors or to offer natural
explanations for them [...] Leading Enlightenment intellectuals did not so much
debunk marvels as ignore them [...] On metaphysical, aesthetic, and political
grounds, they excluded wonders from the realm of the possible, the seemly, and
the safe.
|
Emanuel Swedenborg
|
The
case of the most famous spirit-seer of the Enlightenment, Emanuel Swedenborg,
offers a good illustration of rejections of the occult on such non-scientific
grounds. Swedenborg’s greatest critic in Germany was philosopher Immanuel Kant,
a devout believer in the immortality of the soul. On the one hand, Kant was
certainly impressed by reports from reputable witnesses who claimed that
Swedenborg – who, incidentally, was a leading man of Scandinavian science and a
Fellow of the Royal Society – had demonstrated clairvoyance and the ability to
communicate with the dead. But this didn’t keep
him from ridiculing Swedenborg by comparing spirit visions with brain
flatulence, before declaring him mad. Apparently
the only major representative of Enlightenment science to openly criticize
Swedenborg was the great English chemist, Joseph Priestley. But despite
Priestley’s eminence as a natural philosopher, his ‘critique’ was no more
scientific than Kant’s. Unlike Kant, Priestley was completely uninterested in
testimony for Swedenborg’s supposed extra-sensory and mediumistic capacities,
and he declared spirit visions null and void for explicitly theological
reasons: Priestley, who was a lay preacher as much as man of science, was yet
another devout Christian mortalist who used the Bible rather than science to ‘prove’ that immaterial
souls and spirits did not exist.
Skeptics will
of course object and say there were at least two instances in which the ‘paranormal’
was successfully refuted during the Enlightenment by perfectly rational means.
One of the standard texts in the arsenal of modern Skeptics, after all, is the
essay “Of Miracles” by Scottish philosopher and critic of religion, David Hume. In a nutshell, Hume argued that specific
reports of ‘miracles’ can and always should be dismissed in favor of ‘natural’ general explanations, such as
fraud, errors of perception, love of wonder, and of course religious dogmatism
as the prime motivating force behind pitfalls of human testimony regarding the
‘miraculous’. Perhaps most crucially, Hume argued that the better-substantiated
reports of ‘miracles’ (he mentioned levitations and dead men coming back to
life as examples) were so rare and exceptional that the alleged effects would
constitute violations of natural law, and therefore should be rejected along
with purely anecdotal claims.
Interestingly, Hume’s
arguments were practically ignored by contemporary fellow anti-occultism
crusaders, and his essay only began achieving some popularity about a century
after his death, when it was cited in battles against spiritualism and other
large- scale occult movements. What’s more, it would be wrong to assume it was
only spiritualists or religious types who fundamentally disagreed with Hume. ‘Darwin’s
bulldog’ Thomas H. Huxley, for example, certainly shared Hume’s antipathies
with orthodox Christianity and heretical occult beliefs and dismissed
contemporary evidence for paranormal phenomena (some of which, as we shall see,
was published by scientific friends of his). Still, as we shall see below,
Huxley especially rejected Hume’s interpretation of hypothetical levitations as
self-evident violations of natural law, and part 2 of this essay will address
other problems with Hume’s arguments.
For now, let’s
say the examples of Bacon’s explicitly theological prohibition of ‘survival research’, and Boyle’s
fears of devils preventing him to follow a strictly experimental route to a
spirit world, more than indicate that Hume’s claim that reports of ‘paranormal’
phenomena have only been motivated
by
religious beliefs is questionable at best. But he probably knew this fairly
well himself. For example, as an instance of seemingly well-attested ‘miracles’
reported to occur in the present, Hume referred to marvels associated with a
group called the ‘French prophets’. These were followers of a widely revered
heretical priest, at whose tomb in Paris a broad range of paranormal phenomena
were observed – marvellous cures, clairvoyance, automatic writing and speaking,
spirit visions, and so on. When physicians began documenting the efficacy of
healings supposedly worked by the ‘prophets’, this was a serious problem not
just for devout anti-clerics, but also for the Church: The prophets were
members of a religious sect, so the Church could impossibly embrace them as
legitimate Christian miracles, and therefore officially declared them false.
British historian of Enlightenment science and medicine, Roy Porter, spelled
out the dilemma:
if for reasons of its
own, the Catholic Church saw fit to discredit ‘miracles’ which happened in the
here-and-now, on its own doorstep and before people’s very eyes, how could any
other ‘miracle’ in the Christian canon be sustained?
Porter also reminds
us that the Church’s contradictory stance on ‘miracles’ was water on the mills
of French atheist-materialist critics of the ‘paranormal’ like Denis Diderot,
and anti-clerical Deists (who believed in God but rejected miracles) like the
great Voltaire. And as we shall see, the debate over the French prophets is
just one of countless examples where the ‘empirical occult’ was declared a
mortal enemy by two powerful and mutually opposed camps: orthodox religion on
the one end, and anti- clerical thinkers on the other.
Still, as
Hume’s familiarity with the case already suggests, news of the French prophets
spread across the channel, and soon enough they garnered a following in England
and Scotland. Isaac Newton considered
these reports with interest, and one of his closest and most promising
students, Nicolas Fatio de Duillier, even became their leading spokesman in
England. Hardly surprisingly, de Duillier’s public support of these brazen
heretics quickly resulted in the ruin of his scientific career and social
standing, after his support of the prophets led to legal persecution and had
him end up on the pillory.
Apart from Hume’s
essay on miracles, another episode routinely cited by Skeptics as a victory of
Enlightenment science over the ‘paranormal’ was the famous refutation of
mesmerism or ‘animal magnetism’ by a French Royal Commission, which included
the pioneer of electricity, Benjamin Franklin, and the eminent chemist Antoine
Lavoisier. The commission’s goal
was to test claims by the physician Franz Anton Mesmer, who professed to have
discovered an all-pervading physical imponderable or vital fluid. Health and
disease, Mesmer argued, were a matter of balance and distribution of this
‘animal magnetism’ in the human organism. A prominent technique employed by
Mesmer and his pupils to restore such balance were magnetic ‘passes’ – up- and
downward movements of the hands, usually a few inches away from the patient’s
body, which were often reported to put patients in a state of trance and
occasionally induced convulsions.
The Franklin
commission set out to test these claims by conducting experiments on people who
did not know whether they received actual or sham mesmeric treatment. In their
report to the King, the commission did not doubt that patients did indeed
occasionally get better. Crucial, however, was the finding that they not only
responded to actual mesmeric interventions, but also when treatments were
absent or only pretended. Instead of assuming the existence of a ‘magnetic
fluid’ as claimed by Mesmer, any healing success was therefore explained in
terms of effects of the ‘imagination’. Modern medics usually read ‘imagination’
as the equivalent of what has been called the ‘placebo effect’ since about the
1950s: genuine healing caused not by medicine, but by a patient’s beliefs and
expectations.
Today, physicians
typically decry Mesmer as a self-deluded charlatan, not least because of the
popular image of mesmerism as a ‘paranormal’ belief system. But while it is
true that many other practitioners of mesmerism certainly claimed the
occurrence of properly parapsychological phenomena in the therapeutic setting –
telepathy, clairvoyance, and not least spirit visions – Mesmer himself was
actively hostile to all these things. As a child of the Enlightenment and its
worship of cold reason, he also considered the induction of trance states and
convulsions in mesmeric patients not as a welcome part of the treatment, but a
rather regrettable side effect. And to be fair, even
if we grant that the story of mesmerism can be reduced to a history of the
placebo effect, it should be acknowledged that it often worked. Not to be
outdone, mesmeric practice was also far less invasive and dangerous than
treatments offered by contemporary mainstream medicine, which still prominently
relied on blood-letting, purging, and other highly questionable blanket
interventions. With a perspective on concrete historical contexts, it should
also be acknowledged that Mesmer’s concepts were not actually that outlandish
or even new, as they followed in the tradition of perfectly mainstream
Renaissance natural philosophy.
Moreover,
Mesmer himself became known as a ‘scientific’ opponent of supernaturalism, when
he was appointed by the Bavarian government to debunked the German exorcist
Johann Gassner in 1775. Mesmer did not doubt that Gassner’s exorcisms often
worked. But in his view, the ailments in Gassner’s patients were not caused by
evil spirits but organic imbalances, which the priest unwittingly restored
through unconscious use of his unusually strong ‘magnetic’ powers. Mesmerism
may be considered a ‘pseudoscience’ today by the medical mainstream, but
Mesmer’s ‘explanation’ was still good enough for the Bavarian Academy of
Sciences to appoint him a member in reward for his services in the battle
against ‘superstition’, and it also informed Emperor Joseph II’s decision to
prohibit exorcisms for the German empire.
We shall come back to
squarely political
motifs of
Enlightenment crusades in a second. But there’s evidence that the downfall of
Mesmer was also connected to a major course of worry of political elites in
France, for the plain fact that mesmerist societies were often havens for
revolutionaries working to upend the reign of the King.
There seems to be a
widespread assumption today that the ‘scientific community’ instantly and
overwhelmingly accepted the report of the Franklin commission as the ultimate
verdict on the question of mesmerism. But as far as its practice by physicians is concerned,
it certainly continued almost unabated, despite occasionally being prohibited
by law. And this continuity included its ‘paranormal’ guises, which Mesmer
himself had so thoroughly despised. Telepathic rapports between mesmerists and
patients, and clairvoyant and spirit visions of entranced patients, continued
to be anecdotally reported en masse not only by the scientific and medical laity all over
continental Europe and, somewhat belated, in Britain and the United States,
throughout the remainder of the eighteenth and the whole nineteenth century.
According to
chronologists of modern ‘enlightened’ hypnotherapy, the irreversible death of
mesmerism occurred at the hands not of the Franklin commission, but of Scottish
physician James Braid in the early 1840s, when Braid experimentally
demonstrated its medical powers lay not in a quasi-physical ‘animal magnetism’,
but in the psychological
principle
of hypnotic suggestion. Like practitioners of mesmerism before him, Braid put
his patients into a trance state, during which he claimed to painlessly extract
teeth, cure paralysis, and restore sight and hearing. When Braid coined the
term ‘hypnotism’, it was also important for him to stress that he never
observed any paranormal phenomena in his medical practice. This was certainly wise to state, as one of his
most vocal critics had accused him of being in league with the devil, which was
in fact the topic of Braid’s very first publication concerning hypnosis. How far British science and medicine still was from
embracing ‘scientific materialism’ is further illustrated by the fact that
Braid himself was no materialist let alone an atheist – far from it: In 1852 he
would sternly admonish a historian of magic for claiming there was no such
thing as the devil and demons.
In the same year,
Michael Faraday, perhaps the greatest British physicist of the nineteenth
century, applied Braid’s psychological principles to explain ‘table-tilting’, a
practice associated with spiritualism. Slight table movements, Faraday was able
to show in a series of brilliant experiments, were not caused by ‘supernatural’
powers, but by unconscious muscular motions of the sitters. This episode in particular has been
interpreted as yet another supposed victory of secular Skeptical science over
paranormal superstitions. Never mind that
Faraday, a devout member of a heretical Christian sect, revealed in a letter
the squarely theological worries which had moved him to intervene: the new
craze, Faraday suspected, was the work of “unclean spirits” let lose by Satan
to delude man at the end of times, as predicted in the Bible.
Later, Faraday
justified his conscious decision not to investigate widely reported phenomena
which were inexplicable by unconscious muscular action – most notably levitating tables – by stating
such reports were clearly ridiculous: levitations, Faraday proclaimed, were
impossible because they obviously violated the law of the conservation of
force. There is some irony in
the fact that one of the most detailed and angry critiques of this argument by
Faraday came from a man who was widely suspected to be an atheist, the London
mathematician August De Morgan. Whatever his religious
beliefs, De Morgan was no friend of dogmatism in any form, as he was one of the
first major intellectuals to confess that he was fully convinced of the reality
of certain phenomena
of
spiritualism, while doubting they were caused by disembodied spirits.
When Charles Darwin
and Alfred Russel Wallace formulated modern evolutionary theory, Faraday’s
refusal to comment on this game-changing event was probably also owing to his
biblical commitments. Darwin’s own antipathies to spiritualism and the occult
are well known and have been taken to represent the attitude to these things by
the Victorian ‘scientific community’. But Darwin’s ally Wallace of all people
became an enthusiastic convert to spiritualist faith, and he would later even
argue that spirits were actively involved in the process of human evolution. It’s not far-fetched to assume it was
because of Wallace’s highly unorthodox views, and his rather fervent
proselytizing for spiritualism, that we associate only Darwin’s name with
modern evolutionary theory today. And as we shall see in Part 2 of this essay,
unfortunately Wallace was not always critical in his investigations, and we
shouldn’t simply adopt his belief in survival on the grounds of his eminence as
a biological scientist.
Wallace wrote
that his first encounters with the paranormal took place during mesmeric
experiments he conducted as a young man, which convinced him of the reality of
clairvoyance. This was in the decade
of Braid’s inauguration of medical hypnotism, which, however, British
scientific and medical communities at large either completely ignored,
ridiculed, or lumped in with mesmerism and spiritualism, Faraday and a few others
being notable exceptions. It was only in the 1870s that hypnotism began to gain
momentum not so much as a medical treatment, but as an experimental tool for
the exploration of the human mind. This time, however, the man whose name
became prominently associated with hypnotism was not a devout Christian like
Braid, but a fierce atheist: the neurologist Jean Martin Charcot in Paris.
Charcot consciously
blended public spectacle and medical demonstration in his legendary hypnotic
performances at the Salpêtrière, a hospital which predominantly housed
mentally ill female patients. Using hysterical girls and women as little more
than dummies to demonstrate the stupendous powers of the hypnotist over the
weak and sick mind, Charcot induced and released trance states, catalepsies,
and seizures in his patients at will. Particular stress was laid by Charcot and
his peers on the ease with which states resembling demonic possession and
mystical ecstasy could be induced. This hammered home Charcot’s principal
message: The whole history of religious experience was to be reduced to
hysteria and mental disease .
Andreas Sommer, “What is the Best Available Evidence for the
Survival of Human Consciousness after Permanent Bodily Death? Submitted to the
Bigelow Institute 2021 contest on this topic. The paper with all notes and
bibliography is available at https://bigelowinstitute.org/Winning_Essays/12_Andreas_Sommer.pdf.