Decline and Stall
Mine and Duke’s Ghosts

I’ve been thinking a lot about the soul lately, not so much about my soul, but about the staying power of the concept.  More or less, all the religions from the axial age onwards(basically from the age of Plato, Buddha and Jesus) have some idea of a self that is not corporeal, but nevertheless a part of person.  This part, really essence, in most traditions exists on after shedding its mortal coil. Despite the best efforts of modern psychology and biology, popular culture retains the idea that there is some indelible and non-physical force, i. e., there are souls and thus ghosts.  This made me think of a piece I wrote for my office blog a while back, entitled “The Ghosts of Duke’s Past”: 

I am a child of the 80’s–and the Ghostbusters franchise was my wet-nurse.  The movies, the cartoons, the toy proton-packs, all of it.  Recently, I came across a line from Ghostbusters II that has not stopped resonating in my mind:  “You might want to check those Duke University mean averaging studies on controlled psychokinesis.”  Was this a sign? An omen?  How had I never caught that my Alma Mater was mentioned?  Luckily, author and NPR correspondent Stacy Horn has helped me make sense of my haunting questions with her new book Unbelievable: Investigations into Ghosts, Poltergeists, Telepathy and other Unseen Phenomena from the Duke Parapsychology Laboratory. It not only made sense of the reference (it was a study of human thought on a random-number generator) but also gave me a sense of Duke’s values and history.

The book centers on the eccentric botanist-turned-parapsychologist J.B. Rhine who taught here from 1927-65.  From an early age, Rhine had nurtured an interest in the human mind and at Duke that interest spawned almost thirty years of studying the “psychic power” of the human mind.  You see, as Horn explains, Rhine didn’t believe in ghosts; rather, he believed that the human mind had more potential and power than standard psychology gave us credit for.  So ghosts and mediums were not channeled souls of the dead, but some form of communication or “extra-sensory perception.”  Likewise hauntings were not the work of the poltergeists but simply the telekinesis of homes’ inhabitants.

Really I am just as incredulous and skeptical as the next person.  But I think there are some lessons here. In 1927, when Rhine came to Duke to study the paranormal, Duke was only three years into its academic endeavor.   President Few had been swayed by a Rhine, a recent PhD from UChicago(also a young university) to create a lab investigating the mysteries of the human mind, one similar to the one Stanford (another young university) had already created.  Few wanted to be on the cutting edge, and Rhine with his bold proposal might enable that.

So Rhine received Few’s blessings, money and space in the East Duke building to begin his investigations into ESP.  Here in Horn’s book things get weird-at least for any Dukie.   Horn recounts hundreds of students waiting in line on West Campus to be tested for telepathy while the more timid students were clandestinely studied in their Few quad rooms (obviously it was not Few quad then).  A few students seemed promising, so he developed more intricate ways to test them.   Duke Psychology professor Karl Zener designed for him simple geometric cards that could be “visualized” telepathically” more easily than a standard 52-deck (These cards make an appearance in Ghostbusters I).  Then Rhine began testing the effect of distance on telepathy by placing his subjects across quads (see picture).

The book is littered with names and nooks that any Dukie would know.  You run into president Terry Sanford and an unnamed critic (biology professor Peter Klopfer); you move from Rhine’s East Duke lab to the Perkins Library, from his Psych building office, to the Duke Parapsychology Lab off of East Campus (now the Newman Catholic Student Center).  Somewhere across the absolutely phantasmagorical and the nostalgic landscape of this book, you find a stubbornly optimistic man with the Sisyphean task of convincing both the world and himself.

In the course of his thousands of individual interviews and studies, Rhine attracted many notable scientists, much press attention,  and not to mention research dollars to the university.  With visits from authors Timothy Leary and Upton Sinclair, psychologist Carl Jung, and lengthy correspondents with Albert Einstein, Rhine helped placed Duke and Durham on the map-for better or worse.  Until his death, he labored to prove the untapped potential of the human mind.  Despite his failings, what could epitomize Duke more:  zeal for bold and daring ideas, a commitment to detailed research, and faith in the power and possibility of the human mind.

Monica’s Fibbing Child, or Augustine Redux

I recently ran across an interesting news article about Liberty University’s seminary dean in The Huffington Post’s college section—the story brought together two topics which I love to research and occasionally skewer, namely religion and higher education, so I couldn’t resist reading about the scandal in Lynchburg, Va. Here’s the gist:

Everyone loves a good conversion story and so did the administration of Liberty University, when it came to selecting Muslim-convert Ergun Caner as dean of their Baptist seminary.  Ergun Caner claimed to have converted from Islam to evangelical Christianity sometime during his high school years in Ohio: from Sunni religion to Sunbelt faith, so to speak.  Perhaps he heard a calling on the road to Cincinnati!  The story of this wayward lamb finding his way propelled his ministries as well as his ascendency to a deanship at rapidly growing faith-based institution, founded by Jerry Fallwel no less.  ChristianityToday, though, recently  uncovered evidence that Dr. Caner had embellished his conversion story and misrepresented his biography.  The evangelical blog  contends that he lied about “growing up in Turkey, when he actually grew up in Ohio, being raised in a devout Muslim home, rather than a nominal one, having been involved in Islamic jihad and having debated dozens of Muslims about the Islamic faith.”

Since I am not Baptist or affiliated with Liberty, I am not overly concerned with what this shepherd did before he took up the pulpit or what he tells his flock about his adolescence.  I am, however, fascinated by the continued allure and power of the conversion story. Why would someone lie about  their former religious devotion?  Paul claims in Galatians  to have “persecuted the church of God and tried to destroy it,” which made his zeal for Jesus and dedication to his message all the more poignant.  Paul’s repentance and his blinding on the road to Damascus becomes the archetypal conversion, but the conversion topos doesn’t reach its apex until Augustine’s supposed Confession circa 397 c.e.  

In the African bishop’s magnum opus, Augustine crafts his spiritual autobiography as an extended confession to God for his past sins.  He brings in a rich cast of characters to explain how he wandered in philosophical angst and sexual promiscuity until a heart-wrenching, theophany in a Milanese garden: he hears a voice, “Tolle, Lege, get up and Read”; he runs to Bible, opens the first page he finds, and is amazed to find a verse in Romans that speaks to his conditions.  Miraculously, he seeks baptism from that point on.  Like Caner, though, there is evidence that Augustine embellished “his life” before this revelation, Augustine’s pious mother Monica had tried to bring him to the Christian faith throughout his life, but he was too busy with women and philosophy.  Then Augustine fell into a trendy new religion/heretical version of Christianity Manicheanism, which held sway over him for nine years according to Augustine.  By his own accounts, though, Augustine stayed with the Manichean community for eleven years—apparently for two years, he was present in body, but not mind or spirit.  Augustine also worked in a Christian Roman court, so assuredly he had to at least feign some affiliation with Christianity; and lastly, he was married through most of his life and among the sex-fearing Manicheans, so one might doubt the degree of his obsession with “concupiscence” or horniness.  But which makes a more compelling character:  a recalcitrant, sex-crazed heretic who finds his way or a skeptical man of typical passions?  Which one draws the distinction between sinner and saint more clearly?

I can’t help but think that Dr. Caner had read Augustine’s Confessions or at least was influenced by the topos of zealous conversion.  How easy it would be to shape a parallel conversion story for a  Muslim from a distant, heretical land (Turkey/Sweden) whose mother is named Monica (that’s her name)! Augustine fought rumors about his past for most of his life, so perhaps Dr. Caner should consider this the first of many attacks.  But things worked out pretty well for Augustine and his nachleben, so don’t worry Ergun…