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Hey, Vsauce, Michael here. Fear gives us life.
Being afraid of the right things kept our
ancestors alive. It makes sense to be afraid
of poisonous insects or hungry tigers, but
what about fear when there is no clear and
obvious danger? For instance, a Teddy Bear
with a full set of human teeth...or a smile.jpeg.
There's something a little off about these
images- too much mystery, and strange-ness,
but no obvious threat, the way there is with
a gun or falling rock. But, yet, they still
insight fear, because they are creepy. But
why? What gives us the creeps? What causes
something to be creepy?
We are now in my bedroom- the bedroom I grew
up in, in Kansas. Like a lot of children my
age, I was terrified of "Scary Stories to
Tell in the Dark." But the very first book
that ever scared me was "The Curse of the
Squirrel." To this day, I still haven't finished
the book...but that's just me.
Psychologist James Geer developed the "Fear
Survey Schedule II" which he used to find
out what scared us the most, combined with
the results of a more recently Gallup poll,
these are the things that scare most of us,
the most. All of these things are scary, but
are they creepy? Let's get more specific.
I love the way Stephen King delineates three
types of scary stuff. The first is the "gross-out"-
this is something disgusting, morbid, diseased.
The second is "horror"- horror, to King, is
the unnatural- a giant spider, or being grabbed
in the dark when you thought you were alone.
The third: "Terror" is different, creepier.
He says terror is coming home to find that
everything you own has been replaced with
an exact copy. Terror is feeling something
behind you- it's breath on your neck. Knowing
that you will be grabbed, but then turning
around to find that there was never anything
there in the first place. Not a lot of research
has been done on that feeling- the creeps-
but many theories and ideas involve vagueness,
ambiguity. For instance, masks, and why clowns
are creepy.
Claude Levi-Strauss wrote that the facial
disguise temporarily eliminates, from social
intercourse, the part of the body which reveals
personal feelings and attitudes. Part of the
reason even a neutral or happy mask can be
creepy may have to do with ambiguity. A mask
hides the true emotions and intentions of
the person underneath. I don't know if the
person wearing that mask is a threat or not.
Vagueness is creepy when it comes to the human
form. This is the famous Uncanny Valley. On
a chart of humanness there's a zone where
something can be almost entirely human, but
off by just a little. Not so wrong that it's
clearly fake or funny, or so good that it's
indistinguishable. Instead, it's just troubling.
The creepiness of the Uncanny Valley is wonderfully
demonstrated by John Bergeron's Singing Androids.
Watch these videos when you're alone...
A similar uneasy feeling comes from ShayeSaintJohn,
a character created by Eric Fournier. Funny
to some, nightmare fuel to others.
Uncanny humanoids, like all creepy things,
straddle a line between two regions that we
can understand and explain with language.
Francis T. McAndrew and Sara Koehnke describe
being "creeped out" as an adaptive human response
to the ambiguity of threats from others.
Creepy things are kind of a threat, maybe,
but they're also kind of not. So, our brains
don't know what to do. Some parts respond
with fear, while other parts don't, and they
don't know why. So, instead of achieving a
typical fear response, horror, we simply feel
uneasy, terror, creeped out. Between the mountains
of safety and danger, there is a valley of
creepiness where the limits of our knowledge,
and trust, and security aren't very clear.
Will looking at this cause you to die one
week later? Impossible, right? Maybe that's
the terror of ambiguity.
We don't do well with ambiguity. When it involves
our own intentions, it can make us lie. And
when it involves danger, but no recognizable
threat, it can make us think and feel some
pretty weird things. Have you ever peered
over a ledge, a railing, way high-up, like,
so high-up it made you feel nervous and dizzy,
and felt something pushing you? Maybe even
an urge to jump? Have you ever stood on the
ledge with a loved one and realize that you
could push them? It would be that easy. You
really could do it, and maybe you do want
to do it, or maybe it's just cognitive dissonance-
the fact that your brain is having to deal
with ambiguity.
A recent study by Jennifer Hames at Florida
State University dubbed this the High Place
Phenomenon. When approaching a ledge and a
dangerous drop, your survival instinct kicks
in and you pull yourself away. But, your balance
and motor systems don't get it. Nothing is
pushing you, and you don't normally fall or
leap randomly. So, what's going on? The part
of your brain that processes intention might
resolve this by determining that something
must be pushing you. Or, that you might actually
want to jump or push your friend, even if
none of that is true.
Now, we're not done with ambiguity yet because
our language reflects the gray area of terror
and creepiness. Take a look at the word "terror,"
itself. We have "horrible" and "horrific."
"Terrible" and "terrific." Why is that? Well,
through history, we never really figured out
what to call powerful experiences, because
they're both. They are full of awe...awesome.
And, they are full of aw...awful. We need
them to survive. We need fears, and the creeps,
to understand our size, our weaknesses. But,
on the other hand, avoiding them is pretty
great too...The creeps is a physical reminder
that the world is vague and full of ambiguity,
but that we are cunning- always trying to
figure things out. But, nonetheless, fragile.
Is that terrible or terrific? Well, it's both.
Which, as a creepy ghost would say, is kind
of boo-tiful. And, as always, thanks for watching.