The suit contends that the collider could produce a tiny black hole or an exotic object called a “strangelet,” either of which might swallow up Earth and perhaps more.

By the time you read this, a hearing scheduled for June 16 may have settled the suit. In any case, let me give some background on what is an interesting scientific and moral question. The same issue was raised before the Relativistic Heavy Ion Collider (RHIC) was turned on at Brookhaven National Laboratory on Long Island last year, which took place without consequence.

Let’s take a look at the processes involved. First, any black hole that might be formed in an LHC single collision will be tiny. Since the total energy of the two beams is E=14 trillion electron-volts, using m=E/c² we calculate the mass of the black hole to be 2.4 x 10^-23 kilograms, equivalent to the mass of about 15,000 hydrogen atoms. This is far less than the theoretical minimum mass of a black hole, the Planck mass, which is 2.2 x 10^-8 kilograms.

Nevertheless, suppose such a black hole is possible. Stephen Hawking has proven that a black hole is unstable with a mean lifetime that depends on the cube of its mass. While the mean lifetime of astronomical black holes is many times the age of the universe, the LHC black hole would survive only 2 x 10^-84 seconds before disintegrating into Hawking radiation. Needless to say, this is hardly enough time to swallow up Earth.

So, there should be no problem—unless Stephen Hawking and the rest of the physics community are wrong. No one has ever seen a black hole decay, so as the creationists like to say, this is “theory and not fact.”

Strange matter is more problematic. This is a hypothetical form of matter composed not only of the usual “up” (u) and “down” (d) quarks that compose the nuclei of familiar atomic matter, but also of strange (s) quarks. The proton is udu and the neutron is udd. The Lambda hyperon (Λ), which was first seen in cosmic rays in 1947, is uds, making it an example of “strange matter.” However, because the s quark is much heavier than the u and d, the Λ is unstable and only has a mean lifetime of 2.6 x 10^-10 seconds.

It has been conjectured that strange matter may become stable when a sufficient number of quarks are brought together. This could happen because the Pauli exclusion principle favors three distinguishable quarks over protons and neutrons, each of which has two identical quarks. Estimates I have seen indicate that thousands of quarks are needed for stability, but these calculations are highly uncertain.

Where would all these quarks come from? In a high-energy collision between nuclei, a quark-gluon plasma is formed, which at the LHC energy can contain thousands of quarks and massless gluons. This may then condense into strange matter.

A strangelet is a chunk of stable strange matter. The ominous scenario is that any negatively charged strangelet coming into contact with an ordinary nucleus might convert it to strange matter, setting up a chain reaction in which Earth would eventually become a hot lump of strange matter.

The best argument against the suggested catastrophe is that cosmic ray protons of much higher energies than will be produced by the LHC have been hitting Earth and every other object in the universe for thirteen billion years, and nothing to our knowledge has converted to strange matter, or even black holes. The cosmic ray with the highest observed energy has an output of about 10²⁰ electron-volts. Assuming it is a proton, the center-of-mass energy resulting from it colliding with another proton at rest, on the Moon for example, is 4.5 x 10¹⁴ electron-volts—higher than the LHC collision energy. They have not destroyed the moon or any objects that we know about.

If strangelets are being produced, we would expect all neutron stars in the universe to be strange stars, and we have observational reasons to think they are not. On the other hand, there are a few anomalous objects that are too dense to be neutron stars but not dense enough to be black holes. Perhaps these are strangelets.

Prominent physicists, including Nobel Prize winner Frank Wilczek, were charged by the director of Brookhaven National Laboratory to analyze the RHIC disaster scenario. In their report published in 1999, they argued that black hole formation from RHIC is highly unlikely. Further, they pointed out that in the five-billion-year life of the moon, approximately 10²⁸ collisions of the RHIC type have occurred. The number of collisions that will occur in ten years of running RHIC, 2 x 10¹¹, is fewer than happen each day on the moon. Their conclusion: “The candidate mechanisms for catastrophe scenarios at RHIC are firmly excluded by existing empirical evidence, compelling theoretical arguments or both.”

However, reputable physicist Adrian Kent has questioned whether a proper risk assessment was done before proceeding with RHIC. The empirical data alone imply a catastrophic probability of about 10^-17.

Only by relying on theory does the risk approach zero. As Kent puts it, “When the destruction of the Earth is in question . . . it would be preferable not to have to rely on theoretical expectations alone.”

Still, I’m taking bets that it won’t happen.

Background

True, in most cases I have found plausible explanations for haunting phenomena. At Mackenzie House in Toronto, mysterious footfalls had been heard on the stairs for much of a decade until, during 1972–73, I investigated and discovered the iron stairway in the adjacent building regularly was traversed by a late-night cleanup crew (Nickell 2001, 217). At various haunted inns, many apparitions have turned out to be due to the percipient experiencing a common “waking dream” (Nickell 2001, 290–292). And aboard a haunted ship, the mysterious blurring of a dead sailor’s picture whenever it was photographed was caused by its nonglare glass softly reflecting the camera’s flash (Nickell 2001, 187).

Such physical illusions are common, but they also tend to have a psychological component. Belief in ghosts caused the superstitious folk who lived at Mackenzie House to assume they heard ghostly activity. They did not stop to consider how nonphysical entities could produce manifestly physical effects. I, on the other hand, thought there might indeed have been a source for the sounds—reported by multiple earwitnesses—and I investigated by looking for the most obvious potential sources.

The effects of memory can also play a role in enhancing a reported occurrence. The fallibility of memory is demonstrated in several studies. For example, Wiseman and Morris (1995) compared paranormal believers with disbelievers by showing them videotapes featuring pseudo-psychic trickery. The believers tended to recall less contradictory information than the skeptics.

The power of suggestion is a potent force in reported hauntings. One person may excitedly influence another (or the latter may acquiesce to preserve domestic tranquility), resulting in what the French term folie á deux—the folly of two! Important also is what psychologists term contagion: the spreading of an idea, action, or the like from person to person. Thus, as a house, inn, or other place becomes thought of as “haunted,” more and more ghostly encounters are reported. At Kentucky’s Liberty Hall mansion, for example, spooky phenomena flourished during the tenure of a manager who found the “ghost” good for business but waned under the more professional direction of a subsequent curator (Nickell 1995, 49). Research by Lange et al. (1996), shows that when people are “alert” to the paranormal (i.e., given to expect paranormal events), they tend to notice those conditions that would confirm their expectations. Also, suggestion effects were more frequently associated with groups of paranormal percipients than with individual ones, indicating that groups are more susceptible to the effects of contagion. “Seeing is believing,” goes the old saying, but it may also be said that sometimes “believing is seeing.”

Flickering Lights

Figure 1. Rustic Hand Hotel in the old mining town of Fairplay, Colorado, is reputedly home to prankish ghosts. (Photo by Joe Nickell)

And then there are hoaxes. At a reputedly haunted restaurant in Georgia, various strange phenomena were reported, including lights that flickered on and off in the barroom. The bartender, whom I interviewed, was initially convinced it was the work of a spirit entity. Parapsychologists who had earlier “investigated” the site using electromagnetic field meters failed to uncover the young worker who admitted that she would sneak up to the doorway, reach for the light switch, then dart away, giggling silently. Similar pranks, minor accidents and glitches, as well as misperceptions coupled with contagion, could easily account for the phenomena reported at the restaurant.

Perception—actually misperception—can transform a hoaxed occurrence into a seemingly supernatural one. A young lady told me of an incident at her apartment in which a light was turned on and off. When I suggested she might be the victim of a prankster and related the case of the Georgia barroom lights, she at first told me she had actually seen the light switch move. On further thought, however, she withdrew that “memory” and concluded that her boyfriend was responsible. He had wanted to spend the night, she said, her tone warming as she recalled the situation, and probably faked the phenomenon so she would be frightened—just as young men used to take their sweethearts to horror features at drive-in movies to induce “snuggling.”

As related in my “Haunted Inns” (Nickell 2001, 296), I once caught such a “ghost” in action, namely a hotel desk clerk who was unaware I was looking in his direction as chandelier lights flickered mysteriously. There, as at many other places, ghosts were apparently thought to be good for business (See figure 1).

Poltergeists at Large

Such antics are the explanation for almost an entire class of physical hauntings, known as poltergeist cases (after the German term for “noisy spirit”). Typically, small objects are hurled through the air by unseen forces, furniture is overturned, or other disturbances occur—usually by a juvenile trickster determined to plague credulous adults. Unfortunately, in many instances the adults prohibit knowledgeable investigators from becoming involved (e.g., Randi, 1985). However, where such cases are properly investigated by magicians and detectives using such tactics as installing hidden cameras, using or threatening the use of lie detectors, or dusting objects with tracer powders, they usually turn out to be the pranks of children, teenagers, or immature adults.

For instance, consider a case that occurred in the summer of 1957 in Hartsville, Missouri. A nine-year-old girl was the focus of poltergeist attacks that included a flying comb, spilled water buckets, shaking laundry baskets, and other odd events. The girl told reporters she was terrified by the happenings, but a magician who visited the house to investigate concluded otherwise: he actually observed a can opener fall from its place of concealment under the girl’s arm (Christopher 1970, 145). In another case, events centered around a thirteen-year-old girl whose fingerprints were discovered on a dish she claimed the poltergeist had tossed out of a window. On Arthur C. Clarke’s Mysterious World program, a revealing bit of footage showed a little girl slipping from bed to break an object, then scampering back under the covers. And a Tulsa, Oklahoma, poltergeist case was solved when tracer powder dusted on certain objects in the house were subsequently discovered on the hands of the plagued couple’s twelve-year-old adopted daughter (Nickell 1995, 85–88). Simply having a talk with the mischief-maker proved successful in ending many poltergeist outbreaks, whether it took the form of a police grilling or sympathetic counseling.

Such was a case I investigated with Robert A. Baker (1921–2005), a professor of psychology at the University of Kentucky and author of numerous books. While I was completing doctoral work at the university, he and I teamed up to examine a number of paranormal cases, and in 1992 we published our investigative manual Missing Pieces: How to Investigate Ghosts, UFOs, Psychics and Other Mysteries.

Dr. Baker and I were called to an Indiana farmhouse that was experiencing a spate of haunting activity. The yard contained religious statues that may have been placed for their presumable protective value. The main percipient was the young wife and mother. Due to the various noises and prankish antics that she perceived, mostly upstairs where her children slept, she seemed at her wit’s end. Afraid for her children, she made them sleep downstairs on sofas and day beds.

We listened to her story, went through the house, and talked to each family member separately. One little boy, being rather pointedly quizzed by the sage Dr. Baker, suddenly blurted out, “You aren’t going to tell on me, are you?” No, the understanding psychologist replied, while insisting that we must nevertheless have an end to the “haunting” activity. We kept in touch with the family for awhile, and apparently the little ghost had heeded Hamlet’s imploring, “Rest, rest, perturbed spirit” (Hamlet i.v. 182).

The Shifting Pictures

Figure 2. In “Sarah’s Room,” in Ohio’s historic The Golden Lamb Inn, pictures on the wall were repeatedly found askew—to the consternation of the housekeeping staff. (Photo by Joe Nickell)

Another supposedly haunted place is The Golden Lamb Inn in Lebanon, Ohio, whose sign proclaims it is “the oldest Inn still operating as a hotel in Ohio.” Serving travelers since 1803, it has hosted ten presidents, including John Quincy Adams, as well as notables Henry Clay, Harriet Beecher Stowe, and Mark Twain. In 1842, Charles Dickens refused to stay there when he learned it was “a temperance hotel,” one that did not serve alcohol (Woodyard 2000, 22, 24).

The inn is allegedly haunted by the ghost of Sarah Stubbs, a little girl whose family once managed the hotel. “Sarah” is blamed for most of the ghostly hijinks that are reported at The Golden Lamb. There is even a museum room containing a couple of pieces of children’s furniture once owned by her, along with additional period furniture, pictures, and other artifacts. The first such “Sarah’s Room” was located on the fourth floor next to the stairs. Unfortunately, guests either blocked the stair traffic as they viewed the display or else missed their footing when they glanced at it on their way downstairs. As a consequence, the exhibits were moved to a room across the hall. Reportedly, that was when the “haunting” began (Woodyard 2000).

According to a display card at the room, “Housekeepers mentioned that pictures on the wall in Sarah’s Room were sometimes crooked after being straightened the day before” (figure 2). Not surprisingly, the claim is elaborated in the Ghost Hunter’s Guide to Haunted Ohio (Woodyard 2000, 25). I wondered about the phenomenon as I prepared to check into the hotel on February 7, 2002.

I had just given a lecture on the paranormal at the University of Cincinnati, sponsored by UC Skeptics, and had dinner, so it was rather late. Local skeptics Robert Sexton and Liz Upchurch were helping me check into the original Sarah’s Room (room number 2, renamed the Harriet Beecher Stowe Room).

As I brought up the subject of haunting, the night clerk told us a secret: Sometimes, she confided, because she found the housekeeping staff so superstitious and credulous, she would slip upstairs at night and “turn the pictures” in Sarah’s Room just to “mess with” their minds.

Once again, I had confirmed the value of on-site investigating over armchair debunking. I had caught another ghost, this time at the very beginning of a stay. I have to admit, I slept especially well that night.

References:

• Christopher, Milbourne. 1970. ESP, Seers, and Psychics. New York: Thomas Y. Crowell. 9:3 (spring), 221–235.
• Lange, Rense, et al. 1996. Contextual mediation of perceptions in hauntings and poltergeist-like experiences. Perceptual and Motor Skills. 82: 755–762.
• Nickell, Joe. 1995. Entities: Angels, Spirits, Demons, and Other Alien Beings. Amherst, N.Y.: Prometheus Books.
• —. 2001. Real-Life X-Files: Investigating the Paranormal. Lexington, Ky.: The University Press of Kentucky.
• Randi, James. 1985. The Columbus poltergeist case. Skeptical Inquirer 9(3) (spring), 221–235.
• Wiseman, Richard, and R.L. Morris. 1995. Recalling pseudo-psychic demonstrations. British Journal of Developmental Psychology. 16: 45–63.
• Woodyard, Chris. 2000. Ghost Hunter’s Guide to Haunted Ohio. Dayton, Ohio: Kestrel Publications, 22–30.

The proof is based on a simple equation. That makes it out-of-bounds for the brand of material published in the Op-Ed pages of The New York Times, but it is appropriate for the less restrictive Skeptical Briefs.

Equations shouldn’t be ridiculed; after all, editors—and people in general—have become accustomed to another simple equation: E=mc². How did scientists manage to sneak E=mc² into the public domain? That equation has been around since 1905, but the specter of insufficient energy has recently shown its face, so the public is paying attention now.

It is amazing that one can get a tremendous amount of energy from a small amount of uranium. The explanation is that c² (the speed of light squared) is a huge number—approximately 1 x 10¹⁷ (meters/second) squared. So even a small amount of mass (m) multiplied by 1 x 10¹⁷ can supply an awful lot of energy. The famous equation will soon be in the headlines again as the United States plans and constructs many nuclear power plants to decrease our dependence on oil from the countries that breed suicide bombers.

Al Gore, Thomas Friedman, and other harbingers of doom are rightly urging us to start thinking about energy. In line with this, our media editors should get acquainted with this UFO-related equation: E=m v²/2. Admittedly, it is a bit more complicated than E=mc² but well within the capabilities of an intelligent layperson.

What does E=m v²/2 mean? The E stands for kinetic energy—the energy required to lift a spaceship, or any flying object, into its orbit. Here is why visiting alien spaceships are an impossible nightmare for most people (or a dream for UFO enthusiasts): if one substitutes realistic values for m and v in the equation and does the arithmetic, she’ll find that E is so huge that it is beyond belief. The distances in outer space are so vast that the velocity of a space vehicle has to be one-tenth the speed of light if it is expected to reach Earth in a reasonable period of time. That means that v²/2 is around 1 x 10¹⁴.

What about m (mass)? Well, the Mars Lander—in which a crew could live for 260 days—weighs 130 metric tons. An alien spaceship, even with small creatures, would have to weigh at least 200 metric tons (200,000 kilograms). After all, it has to carry its own fuel (surprise)! Substituting the numbers, we get E=1 x 10²⁰ (watt-seconds).

So what does that mean if we offer a layman’s explanation? The entire capacity of the United States power system is one trillion watts (1 x 10¹²). If we could by some magic harness the entire output of the U.S. power system behind a space vehicle, it would take 1 x 10⁸ seconds—three years—to get it up to speed!

So, that UFO that was sighted by several reliable witnesses had a three-year shove by the equivalent of the entire U.S. output. Can you believe it? The UFO enthusiasts simply retort with: “They come from a superior civilization. They can somehow do it.” That’s the most nonsensical idea ever launched. The laws of physics and chemistry are the same everywhere in the universe.

So the next time somebody claims to have spotted a spaceship, your response should be “I agree that you saw something, but it could not possibly be an alien spacecraft.”

It is entertaining to speculate on possible inspirations for the hallucinations. A cultural background shared by millions may provide the source material for this brand of hallucination—the shared experience of watching mental hygiene films: short classroom films, dating between 1945 and 1970, “deliberately made to adjust the social behavior of their viewers” (Smith 1999). Mental hygiene films typically focus on how to attain social acceptance along with exhortations to avoid premarital sex, illegal drugs, and careless driving. Curiously, the motifs of several of these films resemble an alien abduction or a hypnopompic/hypnogogic hallucination:

• Cindy Goes to a Party (1955): “Cindy, a twelve-year-old tomboy, is hurt when she learns she hasn’t been invited to a neighborhood birthday party. She goes to bed, but suddenly her teenaged fairy godmother appears and takes her to the party anyway. . . . [T]he invisible fairy godmother waves her magic wand, [and] party etiquette rules appear on the walls. . . .”
• Dick Wakes Up (1954): Dick is struck by a car after carelessly running into the street. “Dick wakes up in his hospital bed, sandwiched between two miniature versions of himself. ‘Judge’ (good judgement) and ‘Imp’ (bad impulse) immediately begin yelling at each other in high-pitched, studio-reverb voices and don’t stop until the end of the film. Dick accepts this meekly. . . . By the end of the film Dick naturally decides that Judge is his pal and develops a positive new outlook.”
• Glenn Wakes Up (1950): “Glenn is magically visited in his bedroom by ‘Mr. X.’. . . Mr. X tells Glenn that he needs to become a ‘good citizen,’ which involves ‘brushing your teeth every morning,’ ‘accepting the decisions of the majority,’ and ‘being kind to people less fortunate than ourselves.’ . . . ‘If you want people to like you, you have to make them like you,’ says Mr. X, who then vanishes into air as a slide whistle toots.”
• Mr. B Natural (1957): “Mr. B Natural is an elflike character” representing “the spirit of fun in music.” Twelve-year-old Buzz Turner seeks social acceptance by his peers. “Mr. B Natural appears in his bedroom and tells him he can be popular by joining the school band. . . . Buzz swallows Mr. B Natural’s argument. . . .”
• Soapy the Germ Fighter (1951): “Billy Martin is a dirty kid who’s convinced that cleanliness is for ‘sissies.’ He’s drifting off to sleep in his bed one night when Soapy appears—a guy wearing a cardboard box painted to look like a bar of soap. Soapy is a big, scary-looking block with arms and legs but no head. . . . He also appears not to be wearing any pants. . . . Soapy teaches Billy ‘good hand habits’ and offers advice such as, ‘girls should wash their hair at least once every two weeks.’”

The similarity between these mental hygiene films and alien abductions is striking: an entity appears in a sleeper’s bedroom, sometimes taking the sleeper to a different location (i.e., Cindy Goes to a Party and Mr. B Natural). The entity then imparts knowledge and leaves. Paradoxically, the human participant takes the visitation in stride and falls back to sleep. When alleged abductees are interrogated under hypnosis, instead of recalling an alien encounter, could they actually be recalling their classroom cinematic encounters with Soapy the Germ Fighter and Mr. B Natural?

Evidence against this conjecture is that hypnopompic/hypnogogic hallucinations have a far longer history than mental hygiene films—witness the alleged angelic visitations in the opening chapters of Matthew and Luke and those that led to Joseph Smith’s invention of Mormonism. Rather than mental hygiene films being the source for contemporary alien abduction accounts, it seems more likely that the creators of these films were drawing upon the cultural background of the hypnopompic/hypnogogic hallucination when they brought Mr. X and Soapy to classroom screens. Still, speculating on possible links among these phenomena provides an entertaining diversion.

References:

• Hopkins, B. 1987. Intruders. New York: Random House.
• Klass, P. 1989. UFO-Abductions: a Dangerous Game. Buffalo, New York: Prometheus Books.
• Smith, K. 1999. Mental Hygiene: Classroom Films 1945-1970. New York: Blast Books.
• Strieber, W. 1988. Communion: A True Story. New York: Harper Collins.
  

Many mental hygiene films are available for download or purchase. The following Web sites provide further details: www.avgeeks.com/; http://picpal.com/mentalhygiene/; and www.archive.org/movies/prelinger.php.