SUBJECT: THE ABDUCTION INVESTIGATOR'S "DUTY OF CARE" FILE: UFO2374
Circulated with permission from David A. Gotlib, M.D.
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The Abduction Investigator's "Duty of Care"
David A. Gotlib, M.D.
2 St. Clair Ave. West, #607
Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4V 1L5
Telephone (416) 963-8700
Paper presented at Abduction Study Conference at
M.I.T., June 1992
Abstract
Every abduction investigator implicitly enters into a contract
with each experiencer whom he or she investigates. The
experiencer provides data in return for assistance in
understanding what has happened to the experiencer. This
contract exists whether or not it is clearly or openly stated.
With this implied contract comes a responsibility on the part
of the investigator, a responsibility for whatever happens to
the experiencer as the direct or indirect result of what occurs
during this relationship. It is unclear how many investigators
understand this fact, appreciate the ramifications of it, or
have the background and training to meet that responsibility.
There is not much chance that this situation will change in
the near future. There is little incentive to adapt or change
techniques, to admit the possibility of error, or to expand the
conceptualization of the phenomenon. For the well-being of
the population that has these experiences, the present
situation is potentially dangerous. The abduction community
must immediately begin to begin to study scientifically the
safest and most effective ways to meet this responsibility.
Introduction
The study of UFO abductions differs markedly from the
study of CE-1, CE-2 and CE-3 cases in one important
respect. The abduction experience has acquired a sense of
urgency, on the basis of the psychological after-effects of
the experiencer -- the sense of victimization, helplessness,
isolation, disbelief and shattering of world-view. As a result
of this emphasis, the study of what some call "the abduction
experience," "experienced anomalous trauma," or
"anomalous experience," has evolved into a curious hybrid
of scientific research and psychotherapy.
The raison d'�tre of the investigator is the finding of proof,
whether by the documentation of cases (including hypnotic
regressions), the determining of correlations and patterns
across cases, the analyzing of implants or the tracking down
of medical records for missing pregnancies. Yet an
experiencer who seeks out an investigator interested in
abductions is not coming primarily out of a sense of public or
scientific duty. Rather, experiencers are seeking,
sometimes desperately, to settle the turmoil within; they are
seeking someone who will listen to them, will believe them,
and will help them make sense of it all.
The Contract
Since the primary motivation of the experiencer is to seek
help, by developing a relationship the investigator implicitly
enters into a contract with the experiencer. The terms of the
contract are as follows. The experiencer provides the data,
while the investigator undertakes to provide the expected
help.
Put another way, by working with experiencers, the
investigator implicitly accepts responsibility for assisting
them, not just with remembering the experiences, but with
explaining them, dealing with their emotional effects, and
integrating these experiences into their lives. To assume
otherwise -- that the investigator's role is limited to study and
documentation -- is naive. One experiencer compared such
an attitude on the part of the investigator to the behavior of a
medical doctor who, faced with a patient with a broken arm,
provides no treatment but simply asks the patient to
describe in detail how the arm was broken.
To be sure, many investigators do some kind of counselling,
individually and/or through operating support groups; some
investigators do refer experiencers to qualified therapists
when it is obvious they are in need of professional help.
Counselling and support groups are really therapeutic
interventions, and arguments have been made that this kind
of work is properly left to professional therapists. The
scarcity of mental-health professionals who are willing to
work in this field makes this a moot point at present, so
investigators have historically been forced to take on this
responsibility to fill the void.
One Problem in Fulfilling the Investigator's Side of the Contract
Providing support and guidance to experiencers is a task
that is neither simple nor easy. One important reason why
this is so is that we are not sure what we are dealing with in
the "abduction experience." Most of us at this conference
would likely be prepared to agree that the abduction
experience is a legitimate experience of some kind -- that is,
it is not a hallucination or delusion or other pathological
process.
What is not generally agreed on is the nature of the
experience. Each interpretation -- whether it is the
"Intruders" hypothesis favoured by Budd Hopkins and David
Jacobs; the "Magonia" idea of Jacques Vallee; the "Imaginal
realm" of Ken Ring; or others -- each one implies something
fundamentally different about the nature of the experience.
To illustrate the ethical dilemma in providing help to
experiencers, this paper will compare and contrast the
Intruders and Imaginal hypotheses.
Intruders vs. Imaginal as Models for Helping
The well-known Intruders premise casts experiencers in the
role of victims, helpless in the face of powerful entities
perpetrating indignities upon them and their families. The
Intruders come when they want and do what they want, and
there is nothing the victim can do about it.
By contrast, the Imaginal hypothesis suggests that
abductions comprise a combination of physical experiences
and symbolic communications between our reality and an
"imaginal realm." The term "imaginal" refers to something
quite different than the more common term "imaginary."
"Imaginary" refers to fictions that are made up through
creative invention and fantasy. By contrast, the imaginal
realm is "...ontologically real; it is also a world that has form,
dimensions, and, most important for us, persons." The
imaginal realm can be perceived only in altered states of
consciousness that destabilize ordinary perceptual
modalities. Ring suggests that "lacking the framework and
terminology of the third realm...[abductees] may easily and
naturally attempt to assimilate these encounters to physical
reality -- a process that is surely abetted by the publicity
given to UFO investigators." According to this premise,
abduction experiences share something fundamental in
common with near-death experiences, shamanic journeys,
and folkloric traditions of fairies, elves and demons.(1)
Both the Imaginal and the Intruders interpretations validate
the individual and his or her story; both assert that there is
an objective reality to the experience, that it is non-
pathological and not a sign of mental illness or imbalance;
and that it is not a rare, isolated event --- it occurs to many
people in all walks of life.
Yet the two interpretations differ radically in their
implications, and in their potential to help the experiencer.
In the Intruders scenario, the experiencer is a helpless
victim, vulnerable to be taken and used at any time, with
little defense or recourse. One's memories of the
experience cannot be trusted, because a good feeling or
positive experience is likely to be the result of manipulation
by the aliens. Body, mind, emotions -- of self and of loved
ones -- all are vulnerable to manipulation by the Intruders.
Counselling along the lines of this model provides some
explanation where before there was none, but what goes
with the explanation is a future fraught with helplessness
and fear.
The Imaginal approach suggests that the key to
understanding the meaning of the experience lies in
exploring the interaction between what is experienced
directly in the uncharted realm of the imaginal, and what
interpretations (drawn from culture, biography and
personality) are made of these experiences. Whereas the
Intruder scenario predetermines the meaning of the
experience (i.e., abductee as victim), the Imaginal model
provides considerable freedom for the interpretations of both
experiencer and investigator to develop.
Experiencers can and often do find themselves leaving
behind the role of victim and experiencing positive personal
transformations. Keith Thompson comments on the
significance of this opportunity in his book Angels and Aliens
(2):
..Over time, many [abductees] come to see that on the
other side of the frustrations of life in the margins lies a
perception available to those willing to enter it: that not
being able to classify oneself is also a freedom from
having to cling to a single identity. Willingly embrace
the marginal, liminal, twilight realms of being, the
domain of uncertainty and not-knowing, can make
possible new insights, new ways of "constructing
reality." In this sense, the UFO encounter experience
prods us to take apart easy ideas about the supposedly
interminable gulf between mind and matter, spirit and
body, masculine and feminine, nature and culture, and
other familiar dichotomies.
If we knew that one or the other (or neither) of these models
was correct, we would have a justification for counselling
people on that basis. But we have no conclusive scientific
proof for either of these hypotheses. There are intriguing
aspects to the arguments of both camps, but neither one
has produced the kind of compelling argument that has
persuaded the majority of people in Ufology, let alone the
scientific community or the general public. Nor does the
field have a body of scientifically collected, documented and
replicable evidence that a physician or licensed
psychotherapist could present to a group of peers as
justification for using one particular model over another for
counselling and therapy . Collections of case studies and
dramatic hypnotic regressions, while indispensable in the
early stages of any scientific endeavour, do not constitute
proof.
Testimonials from experiencers about how investigators
from one camp or another helped them are of limited value
in deciding on a model for counselling. It stands to reason
that an experiencer given a belief system and a community
that shared this belief -- i.e. given a new consensus reality --
will fare better than an experiencer who is still isolated and
confused. So the fact that some experiencers who have
been counselled through one or the other model feel better
than he or she did before meeting the investigator tells us
nothing about (a) whether this is the best method of helping,
let alone about (b) whether the model is an accurate
interpretation of the phenomenon.
In practice, an experiencer is often deeply committed to the
particular interpretation he or she developed during the
investigation. Experiencers sometimes see the presentation
of alternate interpretations of their experiences as
threatening. (For instance, at a networking conference in
Boston in 1991, a social anthropologist on the panel
mentioned that a form of abduction experience is studied in
the Catholic tradition under the name "demonology." An
experiencer in the audience took this statement literally, and
became angry at the implied assertion that abductees were
really being possessed by demons.)
There are few if any scientific studies assessing the benefit
and harm of any single approach. Even worse, there are no
comparative studies of different interventions -- for instance,
the therapeutic outcome of using an Imaginal model vs. an
Intruders model.
To review, I am suggesting the following:
1. The abduction investigator is implicitly responsible for the
effect of his investigation on the experiencer -- how the
experiencer comes to understand the experience, and the
nature of the psychological effects of this new
understanding. Herein lies a tremendous responsibility. It
involves reshaping the world-view of another person, and it
has the potential to affect all aspects of someone's life.
2. There is no consensus about the nature of the
experience. Proposed theories differ radically in nature, and
in their implications for the coping process.
3. There are no comparisons of interventions based on the
different theories to determine the one that will be most
beneficial for the experiencer. In fact, we have little
scientific evidence at all to indicate that what we are doing is
either safe or effective.
Standards and Practices
In time, study of the abduction experience will (it is hoped)
provide insight into the issues raised above. Ethical study of
the abduction experience will do so according to practices
that do not put the welfare of the experiencer at risk.
Standards and practices are desperately needed to protect
the welfare of experiencers and provide guidance for both
investigators and therapists. These standards and practices
should cover two areas. The first area, investigative
protocol and technique, was discussed earlier in this
conference (in my paper "Methodological Problems in
Abduction Work to Date"; I will not repeat those points here).
The second area, the focus of this paper, is "how one cares
for the experiencer."
Research to determine the kind of intervention that is most
safe and effective for experiencers is long overdue. This
can be done in parallel with scientific investigation of the
abduction experience, if appropriate techniques are
followed. Developing the necessary procedures will require
expertise not only from ufologists, but also from the following
interested parties:
* Experimental psychologists and medical ethicists, who are
familiar with the ethical problems and practical
complexities of research programs involving humans;
* Psychotherapists who are trained in counselling and
treatment in both one-to-one and group settings;
* Experiencers who can provide valuable insight and
guidance, and have the right to be active participants in
the development of caring models;
* A diverse group of experts to bring an eclectic
understanding to the phenomenon. For instance,
sociologists, folklorists, and anthropologists have all studied
the abduction experience and have important contributions
to make, not only to the understanding of ufologists, but also
to the understanding of each experiencer.
Some relatively simple changes in investigative procedure
should be made in the meantime.
1. The investigator should make his or her responsibilities
clear, including the nature of the services he can provide
(including such support services as psychotherapy and
counselling that may be part of the "team") and those he or
she cannot or will not provide. The qualifications of those
on the investigative team should be made known to the
experiencer. The experiencer must express clearly his or
her own needs and expectations, and the investigator should
facilitate this process. There should be a clear agreement
between experiencer and investigator before any work
begins. Confidentiality of data should be discussed and
agree upon during this stage.
2. A screening procedure to determine the most important
needs of the experiencer is next in importance. Specifically,
since the existence of a Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder-like
syndrome among abductees has already been documented,
it would be irresponsible if the investigator did not routinely
screen for this and other conditions whose presence might
dictate that therapeutic intervention should precede
investigation.
3. Providing support, guidance and counselling to
experiencers should be an integral part of the investigation
process. That is, the process should be made to serve
experiencers as well as investigators. What kind of support
is given, and what are the qualifications and training needed
for those who provide the support, continue to be open
questions, and the community should move quickly to
address them.
4. An important part of this responsibility is education. At
some point during the abductee's relationship with the
investigator, the former has the right to be informed fully on
all views of the abduction experience, whether or not the
investigator agrees with them.
Peer Review, and Why We Are Unlikely to See It
A body of standards and practices is of very limited value
without a system of self-regulation through peer review.
This peer review system must have the power to enforce
these standards, and this power must come from the
investigators themselves. Investigators must relinquish
some of their independence to this system.
It appears that there is little incentive for most people in this
field to submit to such quality control and constructive
criticism. Most investigators do their work voluntarily, on
their own time, without compensation. Some are attached
to particular points of view or investigative practices. An
individual investigator would have little to gain by having a
peer review panel tell him what he can and cannot do in his
work (for instance, that the result of hundreds of hours of
research is methodologically flawed and unsuitable for
publication).
Under the present conditions, it seems unlikely that
abduction investigators will accept common standards and
practices and submit to their enforcement. However,
circumstances might change to provide more incentive to do
so.
Motivation for Change: A Cautionary Tale
A physician is told to expect, at least once in his or her
career, to be the target of a malpractice suit. This is likely
to happen no matter how careful, how conscientious, how
well-informed, and how skillful the physician is. Some cases
go sour, and a small proportion of clients will complain.
When such a suit is brought, the physician's management of
the case is scrutinized by a panel of his peers. The decision
is based not on the outcome of the case, but on whether the
physician's management of the case was within the
accepted standards of practice of the community.
It is likely that an abduction investigator, sooner or later, will
face the following, worst-case scenario: During or after an
investigation, an abductee suffers an emotional breakdown,
perhaps even commits suicide. A member of the family,
who is not an experiencer and who is not sympathetic to the
idea of abductions as legitimate experiences, feels, rightly or
wrongly, that the intervention of the investigator is in some
way responsible for the breakdown.
Such an angry relative might then bring a civil suit against
the investigator and others involved in the study of the case,
claiming negligence. Negligence involves the violation of
what the court might find to be the duty of care owed by the
investigator to the experiencer. If the court did find that such
a duty of care exists, then the following question would be
asked: Did the person who owed that duty (the investigator)
conduct himself or herself to the standard of care as
required of him or her by professional colleagues? If there
are no professional colleagues and if no such professional
standards exist, then did the investigator show the standards
a reasonable person would expect? If the answer to this
question is "no," then the court could find the investigator
negligent, and thereby responsible for damages caused by
such negligence.
In this scenario, the specific charge would be that the
investigator ought to have known the abductee was subject
to great emotional strain because of the experience.
Through the investigation, he or she had opened a
"Pandora's box" without knowing how to close it or control it,
thus putting the experiencer at risk.
By creating (and adhering to) a set of standards, the
abduction community establishes a code of conduct, a code
that a court could consider because a large group of
professionals had been concerned enough to examine the
question. The court would, however, not be obliged to
accept these standards.
This scenario also highlights the potential importance of a
psychological screen to determine safety for investigation.
Since emotional trauma (including PTSD-like syndromes) as
a result of abduction experiences has been well-described in
the UFO literature, the failure to perform some sort of screen
would be difficult to justify, unless the Ufology community
takes the trouble beforehand to study the problem and
determine whether or not it is practically needed.
Such a lawsuit, with its novel and scandalous twist, would be
irresistible to the media. The issue of standards and
practices might move from the pages of Ufology journals
onto the columns of daily newspapers and tabloid TV.
The outcome of such a situation would be disastrous for all
concerned. Experiencers would find their isolation and
social stigmatization intensified. Investigators and therapists
would have to deal with a loss of credibility (at best) or
hostility and social censure (at worst). (Those who
subscribe to the idea that the Government is involved in a
"UFO cover-up" can appreciate the potential here for
discrediting Ufology).
In this worst-case scenario, the abduction investigation
community would find itself under very close scrutiny. The
community will fare poorly under such scrutiny unless it
faces the issues discussed above.
This scenario remains a possibility in any field that tries to
offer help to individuals. Health care professions attempt to
protect both practitioners and clients from this type of
tragedy by the adoption of a common set of standards and
practices and the creation of a system of self-policing and
enforcement. It is past due for abduction investigators to do
the same.
Conclusion
He who breaks a thing to see what it is has left the path of
wisdom.
J.R.R. Tolkien
The debate over whether abductions represent invasion by
Intruders or Imaginal images -- or guidance of humanity by
Space Brothers -- is not an academic one. Each time a new
abductee surfaces -- confused, isolated, the person's
consensus reality shattered -- he or she reaches out to be
helped and presents the investigator or therapist with the
dilemma of how best to help. How should the abductee
come to understand and deal with the experience? Which
model is most helpful? Which model is closest to the truth?
These are the immediate questions that face the Ufology
community. For better or worse, abduction investigators
have by default found themselves filling the roles of
counsellor and therapist on behalf of those whom they would
study. There is little hard data to guide the investigator,
though fortunately there is a growing community of
concerned mental health professionals willing to lend their
time and expertise to the task.
Curiosity, good intentions and compassion for experiencers
do not replace practices based on scientific knowledge,
ethical reasoning, and appropriate training and experience.
Those who choose to investigate abductions are also
accepting the responsibility of guiding the experiencers to a
new integration and understanding. It might be argued that
investigators who do not fulfill this responsibility are, in
effect, subjecting experiencers to a second round of
violation, with only the procedures being different.
References
1. Kenneth Ring. Toward an Imaginal Interpretation of "UFO
Abductions." ReVision, Vol. 11, No. 4, Spring 1989, p.17-
24.
2. Keith Thompson. Angels and Aliens: UFOs and the
Mythic Imagination. New York: Addison-Wesley, 1991,
p.189.
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