BY JAMES “THE AMAZING” RANDI
I am in a very peculiar business. I appear on stages around the world as a conjurer. Now the American term for it is magician. It’s not a good expression because if you look in the dictionary the strict definition of a magician is one who uses magic. And magic, at least by the definition I prefer from a leading dictionary, is the attempt to control nature by means of spells and incantations. Now, ladies and gentlemen, in my time, as you might have guessed, I have tried spells and incantations. No good. You can spell and incant all you want; the lady will still be on the couch, waiting patiently to float into the air or will be imprisoned in the box with the saw blade descending upon her unprotected midriff, and in some danger of being severely scratched, if not worse! Spells and incantations don’t work. You have to use skulduggery. And let me make it very clear what the magical trade—the conjuring trade—is with a precise definition: it is the approximation of the effect of a true magician using means of subterfuge and trickery.
The magician, in the American usage, is an actor playing the part of a wizard. We are entertainers. I don’t think that there are many folks — but there are some out there by David Copperfield’s own admission to me — who still believe that they really can do the things they purport to do. After a magical performance we’ve all undergone the same experience, all of us in the trade; you get people coming to you afterwards and saying: “I really enjoyed what you did; thank you so much for coming.” And you say, “Well, it’s great to be here. I’m happy that you were pleased with it.” Then they say, “You know, the business with the bottles that multiplied. Obviously, that’s a trick. And the one where you did the thing with the rings and the ropes. That’s a trick too. But the one where you told the lady what word she’d chosen out of the newspaper — that, of course, can’t be a trick.” I’d say, “Yes, that’s a trick, too, but it’s disguised as a miracle of a semi-religious nature.” And they wink at you and they say, “Sure.” Then they walk away and tell their friends afterwards, “Well, he won’t admit it, but we all know.”
There is a hunger, a very strong hunger, within us all to believe there is something more than what the laws of nature permit. I’m not just saying audiences that watch the magician. I mean within us all. We’d like to have a certain amount of fantasy in our lives, but it’s a very dangerous sort of temptation to immediately assume that it must be supernatural or occult or paranormal if we don’t have an explanation for it. I can tell you that in my life I’ve spent a great deal of time investigating and observing and carefully noting and making use of psychology. I am not a psychologist; I have no academic credentials whatsoever, so I come to you today absolutely unencumbered by any responsibilities of that nature. There is no dean who will call me on the carpet tomorrow morning and say, “You shouldn’t have said that.” You see, I’m in the business of giving opinions from an uninformed point of view, except from the point of view of a skeptical person who knows how people’s minds work and often don’t work.
It was mentioned in the introduction to this talk that at the current rate of scientific growth, in a certain number of years scientists will consist of every human being on earth, as well as all the animals — the donkeys, the burros, the whole thing. Well, my friend David Alexander remarked to me, in a cruel aside, that even today certain parts of certain horses have become scientists. And that is quite true; I have met many of them and though they have Ph.D.s, you’d hardly know it. I’ve just come back from a project that’s ongoing at the moment and I’ve seen that principle at work. I must share with you another thing in passing. I have a theory; this is only a theory, and it is at present unproven. But observations so far tend to support its possible validity, with my advance apologies to Ph.D.s in the room. I have a theory about Ph.D.s and the granting of the degree itself. I am outside the field, not an academic, so as a curious observer I have many times seen films of, and in a couple of cases actually attended ceremonies where Ph.D.s are created. They are created, you know. The Ph.D. itself is earned, of course, but then the person who has passed all the tests and done all the right things in the right way and has been approved doesn’t become a Ph.D. until one significant moment where a roll of paper, usually with a red or a blue ribbon around it, is pressed into his or her hand. At that moment that person becomes a very special class of being known as Ph.D.
There is a hunger, a very strong hunger, within us all to believe there is something more than what the laws of nature permit. I’m not just saying audiences that watch the magician. I mean within us all.
Now, I have noted at those ceremonies, and perhaps you have observed it as well that the man who gives out those rolls of paper wears gloves. Why? Why would he want to wear gloves? Is the paper dirty? I don’t think so. Is there something about that roll of paper, or perhaps the ribbon, that he doesn’t want to contaminate him, and he doesn’t want to touch his skin? I’m going to postulate — just an idea — that perhaps there is a secret chemical that has been genetically engineered which is on the surface of that paper so that when the Ph.D. candidate receives that roll of paper this chemical is absorbed by the skin, goes into the bloodstream and is conducted directly to the brain. This is a very carefully engineered chemical which goes directly — please don’t laugh; this is science — goes directly to the speech center of the brain and paralyzes the brain in such a way that two sentences from then on, in any given language, are no longer possible to be pronounced by that person. Those two sentences are, “I don’t know” and “I was wrong”. […]
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