
WOULD sport a killerâs cardigan? Strange as the question might seem, the answer could tell us a lot about how our brains harbour superstitions, unbeknown even to ourselves.
When people are invited to hold a pen that was âonce owned by Albert Einsteinâ, they jump at the chance. Given an opportunity to wear a cardigan that âbelonged to the serial killer Fred Westâ, there are no takers. So, WWRD: what would Richard do?
This dilemma lies at the heart of Bruce Hoodâs fascinating, timely and important book. , a psychologist at the University of Bristol, UK, reckons that we are equipped with a âsupersenseâ that tunes into a hidden (and, letâs face it, almost certainly imaginary) world of spirits, fates and spooky connections. Thanks to the supersense, objects such as pens and cardigans can be imbued with the power of good or evil.
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On paper that sounds absurd. But the supersense is very real, Hood says. In fact, that irrational beliefs persist in a scientific age provide a salutary reminder of the short arm of science.
When it comes to the supernatural and the spiritual, everyoneâs an expert, he points out. We all have something to say, and something we believe. And because we tend to ignore science when its conclusions conflict with what we already avow to be true, science is dismissed as irrelevant to this sphere of enquiry.
Why do we cling to irrational modes of thought even when science tells us otherwise? It could be down to evolution. In the most fascinating pieces of Supersense, Hood argues that we have evolved to be irrational as a by-product of various brain mechanisms, which contributed to our survival at some point along the way.
Though the idea has merit, it is not yet convincing. One problem is that the insights come from psychology experiments using infants and children, and the inferences can feel stretched. Can we really apply the same conclusions to adult reasoning?
Perhaps. Experiments suggest that, under stress, adults revertto irrational thought patterns. Before the advanced stages of Alzheimerâs disease, sufferers revert to child-like reasoning too: when asked why trees or rain exist, they give answers such as âtrees are for shadeâ, and ârain is for drinking and growingâ. ÎçŇš¸ŁŔű1000źŻşĎy adults, it seems, make a concerted effort to paper over the cracks in their irrational minds. Despite our best intentions, though, âthe supersense lingers in the back of our mindsâ.
Hoodâs presentation of the science behind our supersense is crystal clear and utterly engaging. There are good, scientific reasons why religion wonât disappear, he says, however much anyone might want it to. Spiritual thinking is not about being simple-minded or stupid itâs about being human. We are, he suggests, âa sacred speciesâ.
âThere are good, scientific reasons why religion wonât disappear, however much anyone might want it toâ
Our supersense gives us sacred values, and our sacred values create taboos. Taboos, in turn, provide a means for group cohesion. âIrrationality makes our beliefs rational because these beliefs hold society together,â Hood says. If hardened sceptics were to accept that irrationality is, well, rational insofar as it serves to hold societies together, that would constitute an important step toward a more tolerant and unified society.
Now that the revivalist fervour over Dawkinsâs has begun to abate, perhaps the millions who read and loved that book can also read â and learn to love â Supersense. There is just one catch. As Hood admits, âsceptics generally donât bother reading books like this oneâ.
Perhaps Dawkins could force the issue, and volunteer for the cardigan test. Hood suggests that even someone with Dawkinsâs value system would struggle with it, not because they think the cardigan might contaminate them with evil, but because the act might disgust others so much that they ostracise the taboo-breaker. Would Dawkins risk social exclusion to prove a point about superstition? It wouldnât be unprecedented. But I, for one, would be fascinated to find out.
Supersense: Why we believe in the unbelievable
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