As the science historian Ian Hacking writes, these dice made of skeletons are so ubiquitous that “it is hard to find a place where people use no randomizers.” Because it has four sides, the bone can be used like dice: when thrown on a flat surface, it turns into a primitive randomizer, injecting a dose of uncertainty into the game. Why are these small animal bones such a universal relic? The answer returns us to the peculiar shape of the astragalus. "Pandemic practice: Horror fans and morbidly curious individuals are more psychologically resilient during the COVID-19 pandemic." Personality and Individual Differences (2020): 110397. Who knew that 2020 would be such a disaster show? While we typically treat stories as a pleasurable distraction-Netflix is a vacation from the universe-this research suggests that narratives actually prepare us for adversity, allowing us to simulate all sorts of calamities without ever leaving the comfort of the couch. We might need to feel the terror for ourselves, which is something horror movies are particularly good at. Here’s my question: does reading or watching terrifying non-fiction-say, stories about the Holocaust, Gulag and Black Plague-also confer resilience? Or is there something special about the artifice of art, the way it titillates our emotions with scary music, gory close-ups and buckets of red corn syrup? A terrifying subject might not be enough. Experiencing negative emotions in a safe setting, such as during a horror film, might help individuals hone strategies for dealing with fear and more calmly deal with fear-eliciting situations in real life.” Through fearing the murderer or monster on the screen, audiences have an opportunity to practice emotion regulation skills. “One reason that horror use may correlate with less psychological distress is that horror fiction allows its audience to practice grappling with negative emotions in a safe setting. The same logic seems to apply to horror movies. Fiction, in this sense, is an essential human technology, augmenting our natural mental abilities. The difference is that we grow up in environments rich with stories that take us inside the minds of imaginary people. As Hayes notes, human babies are no better at mentalizing than chimp babies. Mindreading almost certainly requires the same sort of training. Cecilia Hayes, an anthropologist at the University of Oxford, compares mindreading to print reading, noting that both are part of our cultural inheritance, and not hard-wired into the infant cortex. Print reading takes years of “scaffolding and explicit instruction”-we have to be taught the alphabet and phonics. In particular, scientists have repeatedly shown that stories with complicated characters can enhance our theory of mind skills, helping us get better at interpreting the thoughts and feelings of other people. It’s a nice correlational study, and builds on previous research showing the potential benefits of fictional narratives.
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Being interested in dark stories taught them how to deal with dark times. (Zombies taught them what supplies to buy at Costco.) More generally, people who exhibited high levels of “morbid curiosity” showed higher levels of positive resilience during the pandemic. (They made it through The Shining they can make it through Covid.) On the other hand, fans of so-called prepper movies-this includes zombie, apocalyptic and alien invasion narratives-felt more prepared for the pandemic, and reported fewer negative disruptions.
Fans of straight horror were less distressed by the pandemic. Sure enough, different kinds of scary movies came with different psychological benefits. They were also asked questions about their psychological resilience (“I believe in my ability to get through these difficult times”) and preparedness for the pandemic (“I was mentally prepared for a pandemic like the Covid-19 pandemic”). Subjects were asked to rate their interest in a long list of scary genres, from zombie flicks to post-apocalyptic thrillers, pandemic films to alien invasion movies. The study was conducted in April, during the uncertain early days of the pandemic. The pretend terrors help us cope with real ones. Horror movies, according to this theory, are a kind of emotional practice. Research by Coltan Scrivner, John Johnson, Jens Kjeldgaard-Christiansen and Mathias Clasen suggests that the best way to deal with our pandemic anxiety is to lean into it, seeking out bleak entertainments that match the headlines. The world is terrible enough - why pay money to endure more terror? These days, I’m all about counter-programming reality, soothing my amygdala with various forms of the marriage plot, preferably involving Emma Thompson.Īnd yet, there’s new evidence that my escapist strategy is the wrong approach. I’ve never understood the appeal of horror movies.