all of the above?

From a recent Newsweek poll.

why demons attack you in your sleep

Everything's fine during the daylight hours. You lounge in the park, watching widowers play chess, ducking from an errant frisbee throw, reading Proust and thinking of the possibilities.

But at night... when the lights are out, the covers drawn, the wind whipping at the window... demons come out of nowhere, assaulting you with evil thoughts. Trip a granny crossing the street. Laugh during Sunday sharing time. Flip the bird at a motorcyclist for no good reason. Watch House. Like Goodman Brown, you buckle under the barrage.

Why? Why do they come at night?

Freud once opined that dreams are the "royal road to the unconscious." That road, my friend, is a public conveyance. Incubi and succubi wait around for a hackney-cab to your hallucinations, and, once inside, can roam the streets with impunity, like vandals sacking Rome, like Michigan fans after the Rose Bowl.

The trick is not dreaming. Every night, before sleeping, say the Dreamer's Prayer of Protection.

O God, who made the heav'n and earth,
From dreams this night protect me.
Destroy each succubus at birth,
No incubus infect me.

Your slumber will be safe from the torment of dreams and demons, and you can resume your normal life of Proust in the park, basking in the sunshine of grace.



[117th in a series]

possessed by demons (the topic, at least)

This is an omnibus response to Mark Olson's recent responses to my responses and hypothetical scenario. Confused? Check out the list of links at the bottom of this post. For now, though, these thoughts are rambling and incoherent: in short, bloglike.

I'll focus on the points that I think are most interesting and important to the discussion. Last week, Olson wrote,

[I]t may be that all mental illness is not caused by demons... but that doesn’t mean none is either.... How explanatory is this ansatz after all? At this point it’s a wash... who is struck by illness is on the one hand under the purview of Dame Chance... the other, unseen agents. Inasmuch as neither has any explanatory powers whatsoever it's something of a wash.

Answering my hypothetical, he continues in this vein:

How do you respond when he says that he actually has three PCs side by side, and that he and his two other triplets always visit the same web sites at (just about) the same time, but only his got infected. His explanation is that his was infected because there was only one demon, you mumble things about packet timing, vagaries of Internet switches and fluctuations in viral signature databases residing in corporate firewalls... but why is your explanation any better than his? Ultimately your explanation is that “it’s just luck”. Pray tell, how your explanation is better?

Note the false either-or offered: either demon possession or chance. Compare that with other possibilities, which I thought of in thirty seconds:

1. Demon possession as an accident. Demons, like viruses, infect random people, and spiritual justifications for their behavior are ad hoc.

2. Demon possession as the will of God. Demons attack at God's behest, or, at least, with God's permission; if God's will is utterly inscrutable, the epistemological distinction between Divine Plan and Chance is impossible.

3. Mental illness as God's punishment, not involving any intermediate spiritual or physical entity. This position would line up with Olson's cited passage from Jacob Milgrom's Leviticus. Olson counters with commitments to other Biblical authors and thinkers who take demons "literally," which of course begs the question, since the rationality of that very position is under scrutiny.

It should be obvious by now that the ultimate explanation doesn't interest me; I'm concerned with the proposition "a demon possessed me / my computer / my dog / the demon that possessed my dog." But let's grant it, for the sake of argument, and say that yes, "it's just luck," and that science can't ultimately explain the metaphysical final cause of the computer's aberrant behavior. The first question is, "So what?" We've shown a plausible and highly probable mechanism that accounts for the behavior. We can even run an experiment, re-infecting the computer with a virus, or infecting a different computer with the virus and watching what happens. At the end of our investigation we won't rule out the possibility of demonic infestation, but we'll certainly show that bringing in demons adds nothing to the discussion. We'll have a testable, falsifiable hypothesis, one that we can abandon when compelling contrary evidence presents itself.

The second question: "So what?" So what if science can't explain everything in existence? Should we expect it to? Who here advocates scientism? When considering demons, methodological naturalism is the default mode even for the Church, and demonology-of-the-gaps finds the gaps narrowing every day. Remember the example of Anneliese Michel, which I harp on constantly, because it shows that

1. The Church has a high bar for what constitutes actual possession, including genuinely inexplicable phenomena (speaking in a language one has never learned, for example).
2. Anneliese Michel's case intially cracked its skull on that bar (some weird voices, contortions, self-destructive behavior, but no spiritual theatrics, nothing "impossible").
3. When the Church got around to dealing with the case, it was an exorcism in futility (couldn't resist).

Which brings me to Olson's second line of argument: putative evidence for the reality of malignant forces. If I were to append my hypothetical to match the current state of affairs in demonological study, the virus would cause the computer to spit out passwords and usernames from the future (as in Olson's addendum), but only when no skeptic is watching. The most evenhanded treatment of exorcism I've read, Michael Cuneo's American Exorcism, reports a lot of vomiting and profanity in the spirit world, but decidedly little in the way of supernatural activity. In the middle of an exorcism, believers would ask Cuneo, "Did you see that?" Sadly, he never did.

I would argue that belief in demon possession is warranted largely by an appeal to textual commitments. After all, Jesus cast out demons; would Jesus be deceived about such things, or worse, deceive others? But consider a modern parallel to demon possession: dissociative identity disorder. Therapists speak to the alter egoes, finding out their names, treating them as separate entities. The disorder is controversial, but even skeptics would admit that something happens, even if it's all an elaborate charade, play-acting for the sake of psychological attention.

Likewise Jesus, in the Gospels, casts out demons by speaking to them. Does this mean that Jesus believes in "literal" demons, or that he is similarly performing spiritual therapy? His successes are interpreted literally by a first-century audience. to be sure, but they'd have never understood a faith healer who babbled about transcranial magnetic stimulation or Prozac or electroconvulsive therapy.

For further reading / catch-up on the controversy...

1. I write about the real story behind Emily Rose.
2. Mark Olson raises the initial questions about whether naturalism dismisses demonology tout court.
3. I respond with questions of my own for Olson.
4. Olson responds to my response.
5. Jason Kuznicki observes.
6. I create a hypothetical that seems to distract some from its purpose: to clarify by what methods one may address ad hoc, unfalsifiable assertions in an argument.
7. Olson adds to the hypothetical, and answers it in pragmatic fashion.

the demon in my PC: a thought experiment

Mark Olson shared some quick thoughts on 21st century demons. I responded. He responded to the response. Jason Kuznicki noted both, and made another point in harmony with mine.

But while I'm still formulating my thoughts, a quick hypothetical.

Suppose your friend calls you over to his house, jabbering excitedly about his PC's recent bizarre behavior. (Insert Mac or Linux joke here.) It's spewing vile messages all over the screen, horrible profanities, scurrilous epithets, obscene innuendoes, sometimes in other languages. When he tries to hop on the Internet and google a quick fix, Internet Explorer (insert Firefox joke here) takes him straight to porn sites, which begin popping up uncontrollably. He's forced to reboot, but the problem doesn't go away.

By the time you arrive, your friend is in a state of panic. "Stephen King was right," he breathlessly exclaims. "My computer is possessed!"

You calmly mutter something about security holes and sloppy coding, whip out an antivirus CD, boot into safe mode and pinpoint the problem: the DemoniACK virus. Solved in three minutes. The computer returns to normal, and your friend commences replacing torn out hair on his already balding pate.

"Now, wasn't that silly, suggesting your computer was demon-possessed?" you offer, bemused.

Your friend frowns. "No, not at all," he counters. "It's just because demons are limited by their software substrate. They have to act within Microsoft's programming constraints."

Your jaw slackens, and you set about convincing your friend that no, there was and is no goblin in his GUI.

My question for all interested parties: How do you do it?

demons on my mind

Mark Olson delves into demonology, and questions whether modern science has all the answers. He makes four major claims.

To start, Olson defends the past, writing that ancient folks weren't stupid for believing in demons, and furthermore, their lack of technology was offset by their "keen or keener understanding of human nature." Since no one here is arguing that people who believe in demons are stupid, I'll set that straw man aside, near the roaring fireplace of reason. (I'll also set aside the unevidenced claim that ancient folks' insight into human nature was keen or keener, since it begs the question.)

After dismissing a gnostic view of the body/soul dichotomy, Olson claims that not only are body and soul unified, but anti-psychotic drugs work because demons are subject to physical laws--the spiritual entity can be trapped by physical constraints. Besides, medicine can't really explain why some people are sane and others go crazy. Lastly, and consequently, open-mindedness about the spiritual realm is a scientific virtue.

Let's look at each point in turn.

First, from a scientific perspective, saying that demons are bound by the laws of physics initially sounds reasonable. After all, they would need a substrate for their wiles, right? But parsimony becomes a problem. If demons, for the longest time, have necessitated exorcism for their removal, why is it that all of a sudden we can control them with the right drugs? Does "demon possession" really explain anything about typical possessed behavior, at least that which has been observed by disinterested parties? (Accounts of levitation, telepathy, and the like, which would seem to be knock-down evidence for supernatural hanky-panky, are notoriously unreliable.) "We battle not against flesh and blood," the Bible claims, "but against powers and principalities." Nowhere is it mentioned if these principalities are in any way bound by chemistry or physics.

Second, does possession explain why some people are sane and others are crazy? At least with biochemistry and genetics we have a shot at an answer. We can search for a chemical imbalance, a tell-tale virus, a genetic marker. On the other side, only an exceedingly rare number of persons are possessed, and for reasons utterly inscrutable. As I've noted elsewhere, occult activities are often blamed--but in the best-known modern instance, the victim was a devout Catholic.

Third, open-mindedness is indeed a virtue, scientific or otherwise. But the evidence for actual possession is so rare, and so poor, that skepticism is by now the default position--even for the Catholic Church, the standard-bearer in the War on Evil.

Last, an observation. Since even secularists like to use metaphors of possession ("dealing with personal demons," "I just wasn't myself today," "I don't know what got into me"), it seems that the literal existence of demons is secondary to their existential import.

Sleep is a virtue, too, so I end here. I welcome criticism, since this post could use some refining.

the truth behind The Exorcism of Emily Rose

When I last discussed the movie, I approached it mostly on an aesthetic level. Frankly, it stinks, in a derivative, dull, stinky way.

But because people keep clicking through to my site, and because Andrew Selby of Mere Orthodoxy has written a positive review of the film, I thought I might discuss why it fails on an intellectual level as well.

Selby writes, "...[Y]ou really ought to see this film because it will challenge your preconceived notions of what is fiction and what is fact..." Ironically, Selby also later points out exactly why this is the case: the story has been sexed up for cinema. "The actual story is less inspiring and more gray than the film," he admits.

The real Emily Rose, a German girl named Anneliese Michel, was devoutly Catholic, the daughter of devout Catholics. As Eric Hansen writes in the Washington Post,

Michel was raised in a strict Catholic family in Bavaria, which rejected the reforms of Vatican II and flirted with religious fringe groups. While other kids her age were rebelling against authority and experimenting with sex, she tried to atone for the sins of wayward priests and drug addicts by sleeping on a bare floor in the middle of winter.

In most possession stories I've read, victims are those who experiment with the occult, dabble with ouija boards, attend seances, read horoscopes, listen to heavy metal. As Bob Larson, one of the U.S.'s premiere demonologists* puts it, "Generally, the person who has a demon knows he has serious spiritual problems that have defied all of his efforts to rectify."

Anneliese Michel's case, as it should be obvious, was atypical. In fact, it's frightening to think that God might allow demons to attack someone so clearly on His side (though readers of the Book of Job already know how this works; perhaps Michel was on the losing end of a divine wager).

Problems of theodicy aside, was Michel really possessed? I mean, really possessed, genuinely beset by dark spiritual forces, battered by demonic entities? Or was she just mentally ill?

Every article on the subject notes that all those who were near her have no doubts that Michel's manifestations were horrifically real. Of course, as devout believers, they'd have little reason to believe they weren't--hence the denial of standard medical care (which, in the 1970s, it must be acknowledged, might not have had as powerful weapons against temporal lobe epilepsy, schizophrenic delusions and obsessive / compulsive behavior all in one overwhelming package). The denial of medical care that ultimately precipitated Michel's death. She starved to 68 pounds before passing at the age of 23, seven years after symptoms first appeared.

To the skeptic, Michel's case clearly fits into the rare-but-hardly-miraculous category, as a tragic incidence of mental illness. Even religious believers, though, might have a hard time accepting aspects of Michel's possession. As Hansen notes,

Sometimes the demons identified themselves -- as Cain, Nero, Judas, Lucifer, Hitler and others -- and even answered the exorcists' questions, explaining what was wrong with the church or why they were in Hell. "People are stupid as pigs," spat Hitler. "They think it's all over after death. It goes on." Judas said Hitler was nothing but a "big mouth" and had "no real say" in Hell.

Absent the physical violence and bizarre behaviors--which were likely exacerbated by her parents' refusal to allow sedation--the thought of bickering spirits is comical. It should be noted that the Catholic church refused to perform an exorcism for several years, because Michel did not show the hallmark signs of possession, including speaking in a language she had never learned. (The film shows Emily Rose speaking Latin, and acknowledges, if I remember correctly, that Rose, like Michel, learned Latin in school.)

The Exorcism of Emily Rose is pernicious for two reasons. First, it mangles the purported circumstances of Emily's possession, blaming it on modern medicine and the use of antipsychotics. In "real life," Michel displayed signs of possession before seeking treatment. Certainly, medical science can't cure every malady, but exorcism, in Michel's case, was a cure worse than the disease. Second, Emily Rose employs standard Hollywood fare for demon flicks, including strange phenomena tormenting a skeptical lawyer on a precise schedule, always with a clock in view. No such hanky-panky was reported in Michel's case. So much for "realism." **

Michel's body was exhumed eleven years after her death. To the disappointment of some, her corpse had deteriorated naturally.



For more information: Read about temporal lobe epilepsy (and other forms) here. I'd like to find a copy of this paper, which goes into more depth on the strange delusions it can bring about. Added: And don't forget Michael Cuneo's American Exorcism, which provides a fascinating look into the world of demonology. Witness to scores of rituals, Cuneo sees a whole lotta vomit, but not much in the way of compelling evidence for demon possession.



*Keep a saltshaker handy.
**(added) The windstorm that accompanies the exorcism is another cinematic fantasy.





[fifty-fourth in a series]

The Exorcism of Emily Rose

Spoiler Alert: Don't see the film, and your evening won't be spoiled.

The harshest criticism I can level at The Exorcist Exorcism of Emily Rose is that it makes The Devil's Advocate look inspired. Scott Derrickson has taken a workable, if derivative, premise and ruined it. The film tries to be a combination horror flick and courtroom drama, and fails as both. Whenever any thing genuinely creepy happens in the flashbacks, the plot lurches back to the present, deflating any built-up tension.

Add to that an almost total lack of concern with the title character. Emily Rose, at least according to a vision she witnesses post-exorcism, is nothing more than God's pawn, a puppet who is battered and beaten for the greater cause of sending us all back to the Middle Ages. Not surprisingly, then, her function in the film is the same. We are treated to just one brief scene where she's a normal young woman about to head to college (country mouse cliches notwithstanding), and somehow that's magically supposed to make us sympathetic. It doesn't. Her histrionic convulsions and contortions make only the teeny-boppers scream; the rest of us are laughing.

Was Emily Rose genuinely possessed, or epileptic? The film's sympathies obviously lie with the spiritual interpretation, though the prosecution's skeptical case is far more convincing. The defense's "Is it possible?" closing statement has to rank among the worst in the history of cinema.

What more can I fault? The chronic abuses of suspense with no payoff? The cardboard characters? The long, boring stretches? The insipid dialogue? ("You're much prettier than your picture." "You want that rising star to keep rising.") The overwhelming debt to The Omen, The Exorcist, Constantine, Rosemary's Baby, every other demon movie ever made? Movies that, no matter how flawed, are seared into the imagination?

Your brain, your gut, and your wallet will be offended if you go. You've been warned.

Bonus: I'm not the only one who went away disappointed.

James Berardinelli: "The Exorcism of Emily Rose is entertaining to the same degree as any courtroom drama of limited imagination can be."

Rob Blackwelder: "Derrickson clearly fancies his film a large intellectual step up from the horror genre, but the structural concessions in his courtroom plot -- made to accommodate those flashbacks in a way that builds maximum apprehension -- are so blatant they become more of a hindrance than a help in telling the story."

Phil Villareal: "If you thought "The Exorcist" went too over the top with its rotating heads and pea soup projectile vomit, wait till you get a load of Emily's histrionics. Homegirl looks like she's an extra from the "Thriller" video set on fast-forward."

David Gilmour: "[Derrickson's] a rock-solid, competent technician; he can scare you, but so can my seven-year-old stepdaughter when she hides behind the couch."

Melinda Ennis: "A "Rashomon"-like approach of visualizing the two disparate explanations is inconsistently executed, then discarded altogether at the end. The exploration of unquestioning faith (religious or otherwise) in a world of pop psychology and cynicism is worthy of a far better movie."

Peter Travers: "At one point, Scott raises an objection. 'On what grounds?' asks the judge. 'How about silliness, your honor?' Amen to that."