Scientists, shamans, and sages: gazing through six hats

Journal of Parapsychology, The, Spring, 2003 by Mario P. Varvoglis

ABSTRACT

Most parapsychologists espouse traditional scientific methods, involving data collection and data analysis, refereed publications, critical feedback, methodological improvements, renewed hypothesis testing, and so on. Overall, this approach has helped establish the legitimacy of the field, while also yielding substantial statistical evidence favoring the existence of certain anomalies. Several considerations, however (e.g., experimenter effects, the apparent absence of spatiotemporal constraints on psi) suggest that the phenomena studied may not be fully amenable to traditional research models; the latter may need to be complemented with other approaches. In this context, tools for divergent thinking can be of great use: They help people resolve complex problems by encouraging creative exploration of many novel and unusual directions. Six Thinking Hats is a divergent-thinking method that induces particularly rich explorations of solution space. The individual examines the problem not only through th e familiar analytical and critical forms of thinking but also through lateral thinking, cross-disciplinary perspectives and emotional intelligence. Six Hats can thus be of considerable use to parapsychologists. Given the multifaceted nature of psi phenomena and the complexities of the research, it is essential that the full spectrum of intelligence be used to progressively construct a rich, multidimensional map of our subject matter.

FROM DREAM LAB TO BIG SCIENCE

This presidential address has several sources of inspiration. One of them, as many of you have probably guessed, is Rex Stanford's intriguingly tided Are We Shamans or Scientists? (1981), delivered originally at the 1979 Parapsychological Association (PA) convention. I consider this article a turning point for the field, not so much for the answers it provides as for the questions it raises. Stanford's main concern was psi-mediated experimenter effects and how these might undercut the validity and replicability of our laboratory results. Indeed, he questioned whether approaches that leave ample room for experimenter effects could really be termed scientific: Do they yield results that are analyzable, predictable, "localizable" in terms of cause-effect, or are they more like "magic" or miracles, one-shot demonstrations that maintain a total ambiguity about their source, timing, and mechanism?

A second source of inspiration is more personal; it focuses on that same year, 1979. At that time, Charles Honorton established Princeton's Psychophysical Research Laboratories (PRL) and invited me to join him there as a full-time parapsychologist. In reflecting about this presidential speech, I suddenly realized that the creation of PRL, or at least my experience of that event, metaphorically captured an essential aspect of Stanford's rhetorical question.

I had come to know Chuck at the Maimonides Hospital Division of Parapsychology and Psychophysics, better known as the Dream Lab. I volunteered there as an undergraduate psychology student--somewhat skeptical, I confess, but thoroughly fascinated by the context, the researchers, and the issues they were examining. Far from being just an intellectual activity, I discovered, psi research was a passion. Many had had personal experiences, most were trying out all sorts of things, and the lab buzzed with curiosity, personal exploration, ideas, and theories. There were pilot studies of all sorts and colors, ganzfeld sessions, long philosophical discussions, and constant samplings of different states of consciousness. The personal computer was just around the corner, and the accelerating technological innovations were sources of genuine excitement. We were certain that these fascinating toys would open brave new vistas into the universe of psi and were impatient to integrate them in our investigations. For example, t he processor-based precision thermistors by Autogen quickly found their way into an impromptu session with a visiting trance medium, who claimed to be in touch with discarnate entities. Three of us locked ourselves with her in the highly isolated Industrial Acoustics Corporation (IAC) room. While she was purportedly channeling the entities, we felt a drop in the temperature--which, of course, reminded us of the subjective sense of "cold breezes" or "chills" frequently reported in the mediumnistic literature. Only in this case, when we came out of the TAG room, we discovered that the Autogen thermistor had indeed recorded a quite sizable drop in the room's temperature, in apparent contradiction with what would be expected in an isolated room enclosing four heat-radiating bodies. I do not recall any formal write-up or follow-up to this striking result-it was just another exploratory session at the Dream Lab, typical of the creative, spontaneous mood of that period.

Of course, I do not want to paint an all-rosy picture. Our field lost some fine minds at Maimonides. Many of the young researchers who went through the Dream Lab, initially excited, curious, and bright, came out bruised and discouraged by Chuck's management style and personality. Still, Maimonides came as close as I have known to "frontier science"--exploratory, creative, provocative, in full rebellion against behavioristic parapsychology, yet not quite settled into a systematic, well-defined alternative.