James Randi, Skeptic Extraordinaire

The skeptical world has lost a towering figure in James Randi, stage magician, lightning rod, and co-founder of the modern skeptical movement. In 1976, Randi joined philosopher Paul Kurtz, astronomer Carl Sagan, psychologist Ray Hyman, science writer Martin Gardner, and other motivated science advocates and critics of fringe claims to establish North America’s first formal skeptical organization, then known as CSICOP—the Committee for the Scientific Investigation of Claims of the Paranormal (now called CSI, the Committee for Skeptical Inquiry).

Randi may be the single most influential person in the history of skepticism from the 1970s through the first decade of the 21^st century. His classic book Flim-Flam! is a defining text for scientific skepticism. He pioneered many of skepticism’s investigative techniques, and many of the arguments and attitudes of skeptical activists. While much of the skeptical literature consists of historical sleuthing and critical analysis, Randi was known for his distinct activist approach to confronting paranormal and pseudoscientific claims. His dramatic public exposé of televangelist Peter Popoff remains one of the clearest modern examples of a fringe proponent unmasked by evidence gathered in the field. Most skeptics would describe Randi as a powerful inspiration for their own work, myself included.

As an activist and showman, Randi certainly stood out. He adopted an outspoken, confrontational public persona beloved by his fans and detested by critics. Sagan said Randi was “accurately self-described as an angry man.” Science fiction author Isaac Asimov wrote that “Randi strikes back and when the pseudoscientists howl, he knows he has hit the mark.” Beginning in 1964, Randi trumpeted a direct challenge to paranormal claimants: “perform anyparanormal feat of any kind under the proper observing conditions” mutually agreed in advance, and win $10,000. That prize eventually grew to $1 million, yet it went unclaimed. Though many were tested, no one ever succeeded in demonstrating any paranormal power whatsoever.

Randi leaves behind a husband and many devoted friends. I did not know Randi well, so I will leave it to his loved ones to eulogize him as a person. I’ve been asked instead to briefly consider his legacy as a “founding father” within the history of skepticism.

That question is complex because people are complex. Like Houdini and Barnum before him, Randi was a showman first. His public persona was larger than life, while his private life was largely unknown for most of his career. He crafted and curated his public persona, from his chosen legal name to his choice to come out as a gay man at age 81.

His activist work on the public stage is his most visible legacy. It would frankly be difficult to overstate the impact of his work upon organized skepticism. Randi’s contributions to skepticism were foundational and monumental. It’s likely that the worldwide network of skeptical organizations would never have happened without Randi’s energy and example.

At the same time, Randi’s greatest contributions were sometimes controversial. His Project Alpha, for example, sent magicians undercover into a parapsychology lab where they posed as psychics. The lab was fooled completely, and embarrassed when Randi revealed the truth. Similarly, Randi hoaxed Australian media into giving press coverage to a fake guru Randi had invented from whole cloth. These projects were widely celebrated by skeptics. They also forced skeptics to consider questions such as the ethics of using deception in our work (a discussion that skeptics and our critics continue to this day).

Magicians have been leaders and essential partners in the necessarily multidisciplinary study of paranormal claims since the days of Houdini. For decades, Randi was the preeminent skeptical magician. He approached paranormal claims with a vast store of specialized expert knowledge that scientists and journalists lack. No one was better qualified to expose, for example, the stage magic trickery of so-called “psychic surgeons” who preyed upon cancer patients for money. By the same token, Randi was not a scientist. He sometimes misspoke on scientific questions in which he was not an expert. (His doubts regarding climate science led me to argue in 2009 that there are “limits on the kinds of scientific arguments into which skeptics may responsibly wade.”)

How do we even begin to weigh such a long and extraordinary career? Randi helped to create the movement I love. All skeptics are indebted to his work. So too are the people rescued from swindlers by Randi’s debunking. Especially notable were his campaigns against the heartless frauds of psychic surgery and fake bomb detecting devices.

His work will be discussed for decades as we continue what Randi began. He was one of skepticism’s fiercest, most visible, and most influential advocates. The skeptical project will not be the same without him. His exit from this stage leaves us now to decide how the show must go on.

Reflecting on Randi’s successful debunking, Sagan said, “it would be as dangerous to rely on him to expose all the quacks, humbugs, and bunkum in the world as it would be to believe those same charlatans.” Randi was one man. He couldn’t do everything, and he couldn’t do it forever. And yet, the work of James Randi and his pioneering colleagues actually did change the world, at least a little bit. They directed our notice to urgent problems ignored by mainstream society. Their attempts to grapple with those problems provide examples for us to learn from, adapt, and expand. It falls on us to accept that challenge. “If we don’t want to get taken,” Sagan said, “we need to do this job for ourselves.”