Like many pseudoscientific myths, the HMP was an elaboration of genuine scientific research.

Recent contact with a researcher close to the monkey research provides more insight into the possible origin of this myth.

The story went like this: Primatologists in Japan had discovered and carefully documented the spread, from monkey to monkey, of a particular feeding behavior within a group of macaques (rhesus monkeys) on Koshima Islet. The primatologists supplied a group of free-range macaques with sweet potatoes. One young macaque discovered that washing the potatoes in the sea or in a stream removed the dirt and sand. Gradually the other macaques in her group learned to wash their potatoes.

The documentation of this “pre-cultural” transmission of behavior was unusual in primatology; but not unusual enough for Watson, who suspected that supernatural mechanisms were at work on Koshima Islet. In his story, after a threshold was reached and the hundredth monkey had learned of washing potatoes, the behavior spread by a sort of mass consciousness to the entire group, and even spontaneously leaped across the sea to groups of monkeys on other islands and the mainland.

Masao Kawai was one of the senior researchers working on the original macaque project. In 1984, while researching the HMP, Ron Amundson contacted Kawai, who was then director of the Primate Research Institute and chief editor of the journal Primates. A brief account of Watson’s claims and a list of Amundson’s doubts were sent to Kawai, along with a request to reproduce one of the macaque photos from the journal. Unfortunately, Kawai was just about to leave on a research trip to Cameroon. Through an intermediary he was able to forward permission for use of the photo “only for your own article in which you criticize Mr. Watson for falsely describing the Japanese monkey studies.” The intermediary reported: “He (Kawai) told me that you are quite right.” That article, “The Hundredth Monkey Phenomenon,” was published in the Summer 1985 Skeptical Inquirer.

More details garnered recently from Kawai are of interest because of Watson’s explanation of his sources. In 1979 Watson claimed his information came from “personal anecdotes and bits of folklore amongst primate researchers"; and in 1986, in a response to Amundson’s SI critique, Watson mentioned “off-the-record conversations with those familiar with the potato-washing work.” Are these reliable sources of information?

Markus Pössel successfully contacted Kawai recently and asked him about Watson’s claims and sources of knowledge. The three questions asked are followed by Kawai’s responses:

1. Is Kawai aware of any sweet potato washing or other skills that propagated more rapidly than would be expected by normal, individual, “pre-cultural” propagation?

   Answer: No.

2. Is Kawai aware of the spontaneous and rapid spread of sweet potato washing from Koshima to groups of macaques on other islands and on the mainland?

   Answer: Individual monkeys in other groups or in zoos may have accidentally learned washing behavior, but it hasn't been observed anywhere on Koshima that washing behavior has spread to other group members.

3. Has Kawai heard any “anecdotes or bits of folklore” among his primatologist colleagues regarding rapid behavior propagation, and does he know of any contacts between Lyall Watson and his (Kawai’s) colleagues?

   Answer: No. Kawai believes that the idea of telepathy may have been introduced by Western countries.

So much for the New Age image of the “mystical” East. Kawai, the best possible source of information on the Koshima macaques, considers the mass consciousness reported by Watson to have been a Western import.

The only mysterious, abrupt spread that remains to be accounted for is the continued ubiquity of the HMP story in New Age literature.

Notes

1. See “The Hundredth Monkey Phenomenon” and "Watson and the Hundredth Monkey Phenomenon,” by Ron Amundson, SI, Summer 1985, pp. 348-356; and SI, Spring 1987, pp. 303-304.

Since Robert A. Baker’s pioneering article appeared in the Skeptical Inquirer (Baker 1987-1988), a controversy has raged over his suggestion that self-proclaimed “alien abductees” exhibited an array of unusual traits that indicated they had fantasy-prone personalities. Baker cited the “important but much neglected” work of Wilson and Barber (1983), who listed certain identifying characteristics of people who fantasize profoundly. Baker applied Wilson and Barber’s findings to the alien-abduction phenomenon and found a strong correlation. Baker explained how a cursory examination by a psychologist or psychiatrist might find an “abductee” to be perfectly normal, while more detailed knowledge about the person’s background and habits would reveal to such a trained observer a pattern of fantasy proneness.

For example, Baker found Whitley Strieber — author of Communion, which tells the “true story” of Strieber’s own alleged abduction — to be “a classic example of the [fantasy-prone personality] genre.” Baker noted that Strieber exhibited such symptoms as being easily hypnotized, having vivid memories, and experiencing hypnopompic hallucinations (i.e. “waking dreams”), as well as being “a writer of occult and highly imaginative novels” and exhibiting other characteristics of fantasy proneness. A subsequent, but apparently independent, study by Bartholomew and Basterfield (1988) drew similar conclusions.

Wilson and Barber’s study did not deal with the abduction phenomenon (which at the time consisted of only a handful of reported cases), and some of their criteria seem less applicable to abduction cases than to other types of reported phenomena, such as psychic experiences. Nevertheless, although the criteria for fantasy proneness have not been exactly codified, they generally include such features as having a rich fantasy life, showing high hypnotic susceptibility, claiming psychic abilities and healing powers, reporting out-of-body experiences and vivid or “waking” dreams, having apparitional experiences and religious visions, and exhibiting automatic writing. In one study, Bartholomew, Basterfield, and Howard (1991) found that, of 152 otherwise normal, functional individuals who reported they had been abducted or had persistent contacts with extraterrestrials, 132 had one or more major characteristics of fantasy-prone personality.

Somewhat equivocal results were obtained by Spanos et al. (1993), although their “findings suggest that intense UFO experiences are more likely to occur in individuals who are predisposed toward esoteric beliefs in general and alien beliefs in particular and who interpret unusual sensory and imagined experiences in terms of the alien hypothesis. Among UFO believers, those with stronger propensities toward fantasy production were particularly likely to generate such experiences” (Spanos et al. 1993, p. 631).

A totally dismissive view of these attempts to find conventional psychological explanations for the abduction experience is found in the introduction to psychiatrist John Mack’s Abduction: Human Encounters with Aliens (1994). Mack states unequivocally: “The effort to discover a personality type associated with abductions has also not been successful.” According to Mack, since some alleged abductions have reportedly taken place in infancy or early childhood, “Cause and effect in the relationship of abduction experiences to building of personality are thus virtually impossible to sort out” (Mack 1994, p. 5). But surely it is Mack’s burden to prove his own thesis that the alien hypothesis does have a basis in fact beyond mere allegation. Otherwise the evidence may well be explained by a simpler hypothesis, such as the possibility that most “abductees” are fantasy-prone personality types. (Such people have traits that cut across many different personality dimensions; thus conventional personality tests are useless for identifying easily hypnotizable people. Some “abductees” who are not fantasy prone may be hoaxers, for example, or exhibit other distinctive personality traits or psychological problems.) Mack’s approach to the diagnosis and treatment of his “abductee” patients has been criticized by many of his colleagues (e.g., Cone 1994).

Methodology

To test the fantasy-proneness hypothesis, I carefully reviewed the thirteen chapter-length cases in Mack’s Abduction (Chapters 3-15), selected from the forty-nine patients he most carefully studied out of seventy-six “abductees.” Since his presentation was not intended to include fantasy proneness, certain potential indicators of that personality type — like a subject’s having an imaginary playmate — would not be expected to be present. Nevertheless, Mack’s rendering of each personality in light of the person’s alleged abduction experiences was sufficiently detailed to allow the extraction of data pertaining to several indicators of fantasy proneness. They are the following:

1. Susceptibility to hypnosis. Wilson and Barber rated “hypnotizability” as one of the main indicators of fantasy proneness. In all cases, Mack repeatedly hypnotized the subjects without reporting the least difficulty in doing so. Also, under hypnosis the subjects did not merely “recall” their alleged abduction experiences but all of them reexperienced and relived them in a manner typical of fantasy proneness (Wilson and Barber 1983, pp. 373-379). For example, Mack’s patient “Scott” (No. 3) was so alarmed at “remembering” his first abduction (in a pre-Mack hypnosis session with another psychiatrist) that, he said, “I jumped clear off the couch” (Mack 1994, p. 81); “Jerry” (No. 4) “expressed shock over how vividly she had relived the abduction,” said Mack (1994, p. 112); similarly, “Catherine” (No. 5) “began to relive” a feeling of numbness and began “to sob and pant” (Mack 1994, p. 140).

2. Paraidentity. I have used this term to refer to a subject’s having had imaginary companions as a child (Wilson and Barber 1983, pp. 346-347) and/or by extension to claiming to have lived past lives or to have a dual identity of some type. Of their fantasy-prone subjects, Wilson and Barber stated: “In fantasy they can do anything — experience a previous lifetime, experience their own birth, go off into the future, go into space, and so on.” As well, “While they are pretending, they become totally absorbed in the character and tend to lose awareness of their true identity” (Wilson and Barber 1983, pp. 353, 354).

   Thus, as a child, “Ed” (No. 1) stated: “Things talked to me. The animals, the spirits . . . . I can sense the earth” (Mack 1994, p. 47); “Jerry” (No. 4) said he has had a relationship with a tall extraterrestrial being since age five (Mack 1994, p. 113). At least four of Mack’s subjects (Nos. 5, 7, 9, and 10) said they have had past-life experiences (pp. 160-162, 200, 248, 259), and seven (Nos. 3, 6, 7, 8, 9, 11, and 12) said they have some sort of dual identity (pp. 92-93, 173, 200, 209, 243, 297, and 355-356). For example “Dave” (No. 10) said he considers himself “a modern-day Indian"; while “Peter” (No. 11) under hypnosis said he becomes an alien and speaks in robotic tones (Mack 1994, pp. 275, 277, 297). In all, eleven of Mack’s thirteen featured subjects exhibited paraidentity.

3. Psychic experiences. Another strong characteristic of fantasy proneness according to Wilson and Barber (1983, pp. 359-360) is that of having telepathic, precognitive, or other types of psychic experience.

   One hundred percent of Mack’s thirteen subjects claimed to have experienced one or more types of alleged psychical phenomena, most reporting telepathic contact with extraterrestrials. “Catherine” (No. 5) also claimed she can “feel people’s auras"; “Eva” (No. 9) said she is able to perceive beyond the range of the five senses; and “Carlos” (No. 12) said he has had “a history of what he calls ‘visionary' experiences” (Mack 1994, pp. 157, 245, 332).

4. “Floating” or out-of-body experiences. Wilson and Barber (1983, p. 360) stated: “The overwhelming majority of subjects (88 percent) in the fantasy-prone group, as contrasted to few (8 percent) in the comparison group, report realistic out-of-the-body experiences” (which one subject described as “a weightless, floating sensation” and another called “astral travel”). Only one of Mack’s thirteen subjects (No. 2) failed to report this; of the other twelve, most described, under hypnosis, being “floated” from their beds to an awaiting spaceship. Some said they were even able to drift through a solid door or wall, that being a further indication of the fantasy nature of the experience (more on this later). Also, “Eva” (No. 9) stated that she had once put her head down to nap at her desk and then “saw myself floating from the ceiling . . . . My consciousness was up there. My physical body was down there” (Mack 1994, p. 237). Also, in the case of “Carlos” (No. 12), “Flying is a recurring motif in some of his more vivid dreams” (Mack 1994, p. 338).

5. Vivid or “waking” dreams, visions, or hallucinations. A majority of Wilson and Barber’s subjects (64 percent) reported they frequently experienced a type of dream that is particularly vivid and realistic (Wilson and Barber 1983, p. 364). Technically termed hypnogogic or hypnopompic hallucinations (depending on whether they occur, respectively, while the person is going to sleep or waking), they are more popularly known as “waking dreams” or, in earlier times as “night terrors” (Nickell 1995, p. 41). Wilson and Barber (1983, p. 364) reported that several of their subjects “were especially grateful to learn that the ‘monsters’ they saw nightly when they were children could be discussed in terms of ‘what the mind does when it is nearly, but not quite, asleep.'” Some of Wilson and Barber’s subjects (six in the fantasy-prone group of twenty-seven, contrasted with none in the comparison group of twenty-five) also had religious visions, and some had outright hallucinations (Wilson and Barber 1983, pp. 362-363, 364-365, 367-371).

   Of Mack’s thirteen selected cases, all but one (No. 13) reported either some type of especially vivid dream, or vision, or hallucination. For example, “Scott” (No. 3) said he had “visual hallucinations” from age twelve; “Jerry” (No. 4) recorded in her journal “vivid dreams of UFOs” as well as “visions"; and “Carlos” (No. 12) had the previously mentioned “visionary” experiences and dreams of flying (Mack 1994, pp. 82, 112). Almost all of Mack’s subjects (Nos. 1-11), like “Sheila” (No. 2), had vivid dreams with strong indications of hypnogogic/hypnopompic hallucination (Mack 1994, pp. 38, 56, 80, 106, 132, 168-169, 196, 213, 235, 265-267, and 289).

6. Hypnotically generated apparitions. Encountering apparitions (which Wilson and Barber define rather narrowly as “ghosts” or “spirits”) is another Wilson-Barber characteristic (contrasted with only sixteen percent of their comparison group). A large number of the fantasizers also reported seeing classic hypnogogic imagery, which included such apparitionlike entities as “demon-type beings, goblins, gargoyles, monsters that seemed to be from outer space” (Wilson and Barber 1983, p. 364).

   Mack’s subjects had a variety of such encounters, both in their apparent “waking dreams” and under hypnosis. Only the latter were considered here; all thirteen subjects reported seeing one or more types of outer-space creatures during hypnosis.

7. Receipt of special messages. Fifty percent of Wilson and Barber’s fantasizers (contrasted with only eight percent of their comparison subjects) reported having felt that some spirit or higher intelligence was using them “to write a poem, song, or message” (Wilson and Barber 1983, p. 361).

   Of Mack’s thirteen abductees, all but one clearly exhibited this characteristic, usually in the form of receiving telepathic messages from the extraterrestrials and usually with a message similar to the one given “Arthur” (No. 13) “about the danger facing the earth’s ecology” (Mack 1994, p. 381). Interestingly, many of these messages just happen to echo Mack’s own apocalyptic notions (e.g., pp. 3, 412), indicating Mack may be leading his witnesses.

   In the case of “Eva” (No. 9), the aliens, who represented a “higher communication” (Mack 1994, pp. 243, 247), purportedly spoke through her and described her “global mission.” “Jerry” (No. 4) produced a “flood of poetry,” yet stated, “I don't know where it’s coming from” (p. 99); “Sara” (No. 7) has been “spontaneously making drawings with a pen in each hand [of aliens]” although she had never used her left hand before; and “Peter” (No. 11) stated he has “always known that I could commune with God” and that the aliens “want to see if I'm a worthy leader” (Mack 1994, pp. 99, 192, 288, 297).

Results

One of Mack’s subjects ("Sheila,” No. 2) exhibited four of the seven fantasy-prone indicators, and another ("Arthur,” No. 13) exhibited five; the rest showed all seven characteristics. These results are displayed in Figure 1.

Although not included here, healing — that is, the subjects’ feeling that they have the ability to heal — is another characteristic of the fantasy-prone personality noted by Wilson and Barber (1983, p. 363). At least six of Mack’s thirteen subjects exhibited this. Other traits, not discussed by Wilson and Barber but nevertheless of possible interest, are the following (together with the number of Mack’s thirteen subjects that exhibit it): having seen UFOs (9); New Age or mystical involvement (11); Roman Catholic upbringing (6 of 9 whose religion was known or could be inferred); previously being in a religio-philosophical limbo/quest for meaning in life (10); and involvement in the arts as a vocation or avocation (5). For example, while apparently neither an artist, healer, nor UFO sighter, “Ed” (No. 1) had “a traditional Roman Catholic upbringing” and — as rather a loner who said he felt “lost in the desert” — he not only feels he can “talk to plants” but said he has “practiced meditation and studied Eastern philosophy in his struggle to find his authentic path” (Mack 1994, pp. 39, 41-42). “Carlos” (No. 12) is an artist/writer/ “fine arts professor” involved in theatrical production who said he has seen UFOs and has a “capacity as a healer"; raised a Roman Catholic, and interested in numerology and mythology, he calls himself “a shaman/artist teacher” (Mack 1994, pp. 330, 332, 340-341, 357).

Also of interest, I think, is the evidence that many of Mack’s subjects fantasized while under hypnosis. For example — in addition to aliens — “Ed” (No. 1) also said he saw earth spirits whom he described as “mirthful little playful creatures” (p. 48); and “Joe” (No. 6) said he saw “mythic gods, and winged horses.” “Joe” also "remembered” being born (Mack 1994, pp. 170, 184). “Catherine” (No. 5), “Sara” (No. 7), “Paul” (No. 8), and “Eva,” (No. 9) said they had past-life experiences or engaged in time-travel while under hypnosis. Several said they were able to drift through solid doors or walls, including “Ed” (No. 1), “Jerry” (No. 4), “Catherine” (No. 5), "Paul” (No. 8), “Dave” (No. 10), and “Arthur” (No. 13). “Carlos” (No. 12) claimed his body was transmuted into light. I have already mentioned that under hypnosis “Peter” (No. 11) said he becomes an alien and speaks in an imitative, robotic voice. In all, eleven of Mack’s thirteen subjects (all but Nos. 2 and 3) appear to fantasize under hypnosis. Of course it may be argued that there really are "earth spirits” and “winged horses,” or that the extraterrestrials may truly have the ability to time travel or dematerialize bodies, or that any of the other examples I have given as evidence of fantasizing are really true. However, once again the burden of proof is on the claimant and until that burden is met, the examples can be taken as further evidence of the subjects’ ability to fantasize.

Conclusions

Despite John Mack’s denial, the results of my study of his best thirteen cases show high fantasy proneness among his selected subjects. Whether or not the same results would be obtained with his additional subjects remains to be seen. Nevertheless, my study does support the earlier opinions of Baker and Bartholomew and Basterfield that alleged alien abductees tend to be fantasy-prone personalities. Certainly, that is the evidence for the very best cases selected by a major advocate.

Note

I am grateful to psychologists Robert A. Baker and Barry Beyerstein for reading this study and making helpful suggestions.

References

• Baker, Robert A. 1987-1988. The aliens among us: Hypnotic regression revisited. Skeptical Inquirer 12(2) (Winter): pp. 147-162.
• Bartholomew, Robert E., and Keith Basterfield. 1988. Abduction states of consciousness. International UFO Reporter, March/April.
• Bartholomew, Robert E., Keith Basterfield, and George S. Howard. 1991. UFO abductees and contactees: Psychopathology or fantasy proneness? Professional Psychology: Research and Practice 22(3): 215-222.
• Cone, William. 1994. Research therapy methods questioned. UFO 9(5): 32-34.
• Mack, John. 1994. Abduction: Human Encounters with Aliens. New York: Simon and Schuster.
• Nickell, Joe. 1995. Entities: Angels, Spirits, Demons and Other Alien Beings. Amherst, N.Y.: Prometheus Books.
• Spanos, Nicholas P., Patricia A. Cross, Kirby Dickson, and Susan C. DuBreuil. 1993. Close encounters: An examination of UFO experiences. Journal of Abnormal Psychology 102 (4): 624-632.
• Wilson, Sheryl C., and Theodore X. Barber. 1983. The fantasy-prone personality: Implications for understanding imagery, hypnosis, and parapsychological phenomena. In Imagery, Current Theory, Research and Application, ed. by Anees A. Sheikh, New York: Wiley, pp. 340-390.

Aromatherapy typically involves putting a few drops of some pleasant-smelling, plant-derived oil in your bath water, sniffing it from an inhaler, or massaging it directly into your skin. I sampled a number of these “essential oils,” as they are called, and I was impressed with their unique aromas. So what’s the problem with smelling something fragrant while you are bathing or while you are getting massaged? According to John Meisenheimer, who practices dermatology in Orlando, Florida, a tiny percentage of the population is allergic to some essential oils. But for the rest of us, the answer is, “nothing.” A small dose of aromatic oil probably won’t hurt you a bit, and if you enjoy the smell, that’s fine!

The problem lies with the claims made by aromatherapy’s most widely known practitioners — claims that are causally confused, ambiguous, dubious, and unsupported by scientific evidence. After reading several books and articles written by the enthusiastic supporters of aromatherapy, I believe that there are some recurrent themes that are worth a closer look.

One such theme is what I call “confused causation.” Virtually all aromatherapists claim that if you relax for several minutes in warm bath water to which has been added a few drops of essential oil, you will get out of the tub feeling pleasant. I agree, but what causes the pleasantness? Is it the warmth, the water, the minutes spent resting, the few drops of oil, or some combination thereof? It would be easy to conduct an experiment in order to find out, but for some strange reason aromatherapists haven’t seen fit to do this. Instead, they imply that the essential oil is the main cause. Says Meisenheimer: “The amount of essential oil from a few drops placed in your bath that might actually penetrate the stratum corneum [skin] is probably too small to have any meaningful, systemic, physiologic effect.”

Other examples of confused causation permeate aromatherapists’ writings. Hoffmann (1987, p. 94) claims that chamomile is good for insomnia if taken in a late bath. Is it the lateness or the chamomile that makes you sleepy? For stress, Lavabre (1990, p. 108) recommends relaxation, a better diet, nutritional supplements, more exercise, and a few drops of an oil blend. Heinerman informs us (1988, p. 197) that jasmine oil massaged into the abdomen and groin promotes sexual stimulation. I’ll bet it does, with or without the jasmine. On page 301 he suggests that to make unsafe water safe, boil it and add rosemary, sage, or thyme before drinking. The heat probably kills most of the germs. Edwards (1994, p. 135) mentions that many patients in hospitals in England receive massages with essential oils. According to her, “the relaxing and uplifting effect of the oils helps boost the morale of the patients.” Isn’t it possible that the massage did as much to boost morale as the oils did?

One of the favorite tactics employed by aromatherapists is the use of ambiguous claims. Any good psychic can tell you that you never make a specific prediction. You always leave yourself enough room so that whatever the outcome, you can claim success. Judging from what I read, the aromatherapists have mastered this strategy. Here are some of my favorites, followed by my brief commentary.

According to Frawley (1992, p. 155), incense “cleanses the air of negative energies.” What are negative energies? The reader is encouraged to get massaged with oil regularly (p. 155) because this “keeps the nerves in balance.” How would we know an unbalanced nerve if we saw one? Hoffmann tells us (p. 95) that ylang ylang is “supposedly an aphrodisiac.” Is it or or isn’t it? Lavabre declares (p. 114) that benzoin resinoid will “drive out evil spirits.” I’d love to see that. Presumably spruce oil is an even better essence because it is recommended (p. 64) “for any type of psychic work.” Why limit yourself to evil spirits? Edwards (p. 134) quotes Visant Lad as saying that “life energy enters the body through breath taken through the nose.” Is life energy the same thing as oxygen, and if so, why can’t it enter through the mouth? About tea tree oil, Edwards opines (p. 135), “There is hope [it] may play a role in the successful treatment of AIDS.” Is it hope or is it evidence? On the same page she tells readers that aromatherapy is good for “restoring harmony and balance between the mind and body.” Such a phrase can mean almost anything you wish.

Not all of the claims are hopelessly ambiguous or unlikely to be true. I did a computer search of the psychological literature back to 1967, using the terms essential oils, aromatherapy, and the names of 23 common essences. I found that chamomile (Roberts and Williams 1992) can put people in a better mood, and lavender sometimes causes mistakes in arithmetic (Ludvigson and Rottman 1989). Furthermore, several of the odors used by aromatherapists are capable of producing physiological arousal as measured by electroencephalogram (EEG) recordings (Klemm et al. 1992); and emotional changes, as measured by self-report (Kikuchi et al. 1992; Nakano et al. 1992). Peppermint odor appears to be capable of causing very small EEG, electromyogram (EMG), and heart rate changes during sleep (Badia et al. 1990); and some odors can modify artificially induced sleep time in mice (Tsuchiya et al. 1991). There is evidence that specific odors can better enable one to recall information that was learned in the presence of that odor (Smith et al. 1992).

As a whole, these findings stretched to the limit would support only small craft, sailing cautiously near the shores of the aromatic sea. Unfortunately, some aromatherapists have been more than willing to sail boldly into uncharted waters. Consider these claims about specific essential oils, with my comments.

“A few drops of jasmine (Tisserand 1988, p. 87) cures postnatal depression.” I didn’t find any olfactory research that mentions postnatal depression. “Marjoram oil (Tisserand, p. 37) turns off sexual desire.” The few studies I found that mentioned marjoram had nothing to do with sex. Price (1991, p. 93) tells us that juniper berry is “relaxing” and “stimulating” (both?), and she (p. 48) and Valnet (1982, p. 87) recommend lavender for insomnia. The Klemm study showed that lavender was both arousing and unpleasant. Hoffmann (p. 94) claims that patchouli is good for anxiety. My computer search of the word patchouli turned up nothing. Valnet (p. 70) claims that ylang ylang is good for one’s sex drive. Ylang ylang didn’t turn up anything either.

Other claims of dubious validity are common to the writings of aromatherapists — broad claims that are related to the practice of aromatherapy in general. The following claims are my words, but they represent a synthesis of views expressed by the authors listed.

• Smell is the most direct route to the brain. (Avery 1992; Edwards 1994; Green 1992; Raphael 1994). The implication is that smell is superior to the other senses because olfactory information gets to the brain quickest, and since aromatherapy is concerned with smell, it is a superior method of treatment. Olfactory information gets to the brain very quickly, but so does auditory, tactile, and visual information. The differences would certainly be measured in milliseconds, and it would have no practical consequence. The olfactory sense is directly linked to the limbic system — a portion of the brain concerned with emotionality and memories. The aromatherapists make much of this — the smell of ginger evokes memories of grandma’s cookies, etc. What they don’t tell you is that the sight of grandma’s photo or hearing her voice can do the same. All the senses are part of a massive network that links all parts of the brain. Smell enjoys no particular advantage when it comes to access to or speed of access to various parts of the brain.
• Natural oils are better than synthetic ones. (Avery 1992; Edwards 1994; Hillyer 1994; Lavabre 1990; Price 1991; Raphael 1994; Rose 1988). Most of these authors felt it unnecessary to explain such a statement, but Lavabre told readers that “natural” molecules work better because they have memory (p. 49). It is possible to make a synthetic preparation identical on a molecular level to the most important compound in an essential oil. John Renner, who has heard many of the bizarre claims made by aromatherapists, told me that if the molecules are the same, “I doubt seriously that your body could tell the difference.” Given that essential oils contain several compounds, it seems possible that a natural oil might have more than one active agent. If that is so, then aromatherapists should be spearheading the research effort to determine which chemical compounds are inducing the changes they claim are taking place. Instead, most of them seem all too willing to assume that natural oils are better, and that there is no need to defend this assertion with any rationale or research evidence.
• Essential oils can help your memory. (Hoffmann 1987; Lavabre 1990; Price 1991; Valnet 1982). I found no evidence to support this, and none of these authors provided a hint about how they arrived at that conclusion. Psychologist Elizabeth Loftus, a world-renowned human memory expert, told me in a personal communication that she knows “of no cogent scientific evidence that smells cure amnesia, or that they strengthen memory.” There is such a phenomenon as context-dependent learning. It has been shown that it is easier to remember X when you can return to the environment or context in which you learned X. Presumably, the context provides cues that make it easier to recall X. It has further been shown that at least one essential oil can serve as a contextual cue (Smith et al. 1992). If this is the basis for the above-mentioned claim, it is highly misleading. The essence itself is not important, only the fact that it was a significant part of the context in which the original learning took place. In other words, if the essence wasn’t present when you learned X, then it won’t help you recall it later.
• Scientists are doing a lot of research on essential oils. (Avery 1992; Price 1991; Rose 1988; Valnet 1982). Statements like this are usually followed by specific claims. The implication is that these claims are supported by scientific research. As we saw earlier, that isn’t necessarily true. Whether or not scientists really are doing a lot of research on essential oils is debatable. By comparison with 50 years ago, there is probably more research on essential oils today. By comparison with hearing and vision, research on the consequences of smelling essential oils lags way behind. If there really is a lot of research on the effects of essential oils, why is it that these authors are so reluctant to cite it? Their books and articles rarely list or mention any scientific journal articles. Instead, if there are any references at all they are to books written by other aromatherapists.

All of this sounds as though I am strongly opposed to the use of essential oils. I’m not! If it pleases you to put some in your bath water or have a little rubbed on your back once in a while, by all means, go ahead. It is not the odor that arises from these fragrances that is troubling, it is the stench arising from the unwarranted claims made about them.

References

• Avery, A. 1992. Aromatherapy and You. Kailua, HI: Blue Heron Hill Press.
• Badia, p., et al. 1990. Responsiveness to olfactory stimuli presented in sleep. Physiology and Behavior 48: 87-90.
• Edwards, L. 1994. Aromatherapy and essential oils. Healthy and Natural Journal, October, pp. 134-137.
• Frawley, D. 1992. Herbs and the mind. In American Herbalism: Essays on Herbs and Herbalism, ed. by M. Tierra. Freedom, Calif.: Crossing Press.
• Green, M. 1992. Simpler scents: The combined use of herbs and essential oils. In American Herbalism: Essays on Herbs and Herbalism, ed. by M. Tierra. Freedom, Calif.: Crossing Press.
• Heinerman, J. 1988. Heinerman’s Encyclopedia of Fruits, Vegetables, and Herbs. West Nyack, N.Y.: Parker Publishing.
• Hillyer, P. 1994. “Making $cents with Aromatherapy.” Whole Foods, February, pp. 26-35.
• Hoffmann, D. 1987. Aromatherapy. In The Herbal Handbook. Rochester, Vt.: Healing Arts Press.
• Kikuchi, A., et al. 1992. Effects of odors on cardiac response patterns and subjective states in a reaction time task. Psychologica Folia 51: 74-82.
• Klemm, W. R. et al. 1992. Topographical EEG maps of human response to odors. Chemical Senses 17: 347-361.
• Lavabre, M. 1990. Aromatherapy Workbook. Rochester, Vt.: Healing Arts Press.
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Our guides throughout the five-day program, all CSICOP Fellows, were:

• James Alcock, professor of psychology, York University, Toronto;
• Jerry Andrus, inventor, magician, illusionist, and philosopher;
• Barry Beyerstein, professor of psychology, Simon Fraser University, Vancouver;
• Ray Hyman, professor of psychology, University of Oregon; and
• Loren Pankratz, clinical psychologist, Oregon Health Sciences University.

Alcock, Beyerstein, and Hyman are also members of CSICOP’s Executive Council.

Hyman, a cognitive psychologist, coordinated and moderated the talks, all of which were characterized by lively interaction with the attendees, and humor. Though others’ gullibility frequently elicited mirth, Hyman quickly warned us that everyone is subject to errors both in belief and action. He explained that Piltdown man, supposedly an early man but reconstructed by hoaxers from human and animal bones, fooled both laypeople and scientists for about 40 years. Was it a clever hoax? Hyman said no; filing the ape jawbone to make it fit the reconstructed human skull was crude and quite obvious after it was examined with the probability of fraud in mind. Canals on Mars, which spawned books about Martian residents, the Face on Mars, and N-rays are other examples of mistaken beliefs, as was the discovery of the nonexistent planet Vulcan.

The Central Intelligence Agency hired Hyman and a parapsychologist to evaluate psychics working for the government. Hyman told the workshop attendees that not only were previous studies flawed, but their psychic accuracy was about 15 percent. The problem was that no one could determine which 15 percent was right. (See Hyman’s “Special Report,” SI, March-April 1996.)

In his syllabus “How To Do Cold Readings,” Hyman said his purpose was not to teach us how to be cold readers; rather he wanted us to know how powerful this suggestive activity can be. “Many errors result from the human tendency to discover hidden meaning in seemingly random events,” Hyman said. He also cautioned us to be very gentle in disabusing those who believe such exercises are paranormal. “Cold readings work in the sense that the client is typically satisfied with the results . . . the error involved is in falsely assuming that the meaning and accuracy of the reading stems from some special occult powers of the reader. A related error is the assumption that the meaning of the reading is contained in the words of the reader.” Instead, subjects create their own inferences from proposed generalities. The more personal information the client supplies, such as day, month, year of birth, the more credence he or she gives to the reader’s accuracy and the greater the belief that the reader is psychic.

Andrus demonstrated how mystified we can be by visual cues. Among his many amazing creations that he encouraged us to play with were the Nutty Nuts and Bewildering Blocks. He challenged our auditory perception by playing his Never-Ending Chords on the piano. While watching his hands drop to lower octaves, we all “heard” the chords ascending.

Pankratz, an expert in medical anomalies and insurance fraud, discussed self-deception, a vulnerability within all of us. He told of patients who each had numerous hospital admissions for diverse symptoms within a short time period. The subjects had made up, distorted, or hidden medical information. Even though doctors were informed beforehand that these patients appeared to have factitious symptoms (as in Munchausen syndrome, a feigning of illness), some doctors persisted in treating for the nonexistent illnesses. He said that because patient malingering is intentional and voluntary, it is not considered a psychiatric disorder.

Alcock explained that we have both experiential and rational psychological systems, which collide with each other. “Feelings and rationality often produce contradictory results.” We have two sets of rules: one for religion, based on faith; another for the lab. We feel we have experience of psi even though it remains unproven. Frequency distribution is such that, in tests, some individuals will “get it right,” thus convincing themselves — and others — that they have psychic powers. Such convictions may be extremely difficult to extinguish. Often the belief comes first: We believe, and then find corroborative evidence while ignoring negative evidence. Occurrences close in time are frequently inferred to be causally connected. A dream followed by an experience that can be perceived as correlative may seem precognitive.

Alcock also said that beliefs that reduce concern are more readily accepted. Prejudice permits one to feel “I'm not responsible for others’ dire straits; it’s their genes.” Religion offers the comforting belief that departed loved ones will be met again in heaven. We often hold beliefs that have no rationale. “‘To be a good teacher you must be a good researcher' is nonsense, but offends some notion of what universities are all about,” he said.

Hunches are not necessarily processed rationally, he noted. Coca-Cola took down its billboards because, the company stated, “Nobody looks at them.” Sales dropped, and the billboards reappeared. Smokers rationalize evidence for cancer: “They'll have a cure for it when I'm 40.” Behavioral change precedes attitude change. If you get people to act contrary to their beliefs, they will shift beliefs over time.

Beyerstein discussed how the human brain evolved, and how technology, just in the last 100 years, has confounded our programming, thus leading to human errors. Electric lights have lengthened our awake cycle. Jets that cross time zones in a day play havoc with the natural rhythms acquired through evolution. Biochronometry (not to be confused with pop-psychology’s biorhythms) is the scientific study of rhythmicity and biological clocks. Among the cycles we are attuned to are: circadian (about a day) — sleep/waking cycle; ultradian (much less than 24 hours — breathing, heart rate, EEG rhythms; the basic rest-activity cycle (BRAC) — 90-minute period; infradian (a month or longer) — menstrual cycle, other hormonal rhythms, and seasonal changes.

Abrupt time shifts result in “desynchronosis,” the uncoordinated free-running of subsystem rhythms. Some effects are sleep disorders, gastrointestinal problems, and decreased vigilance. Optimum well-being depends upon the various cycles operating synchronically. Yet about a quarter of our population, often emergency workers whom we trust to make the right decisions (police, firemen, doctors and nurses, air traffic controllers), must operate under these adverse conditions, sometimes leading to fatal errors.

“Re-entraining,” or resetting the biological clocks, he explained, usually takes about ten days to two weeks. Since out-of-sync biological clocks favor a longer day, east-to-west flights have less effect than do west-to-east. Further, change is easier when everyone in the new time zone is on the same waking/eating/sleeping schedule. Shift workers, who have their days turned upside down, and whose duty hours are advanced from evening to afternoon to morning, have the most difficult adaptation. (Reversing the shift order, e.g., morning/afternoon/evening would be more effective for the workers and result in fewer mistakes — life threatening or otherwise.)

The workshop demonstrated why errors are part of the human condition. Some contributors to error are not enough information, overabundance of misinformation, excessive repetition, and innumeracy. We automate as much as possible to save precious resources. Our brains are not video recorders; many stimuli never get to long-term memory. Much of what we think we remember is reconstructed from codified bits and imagination. The purpose of scientific methodology is to find the truth. It can also help us to minimize our errors.