Friday, December 25, 2020

Suicidologists should stop studying non-lethal suicidal behavior

 

Suicidologists Should Stop Studying Non-Lethal Suicidal Behavior

 

David Lester

 

            An alternative title could be: The Method of Substitute Subjects Has No Value for Understanding Suicide. The method of substitute subjects as a term was coined for suicidologists by Neuringer (1962). Because suicides are deceased and, so cannot be given the standardized tests and interviews developed by psychologists, Neuringer suggested turning to the study of those who have suicidal ideation or who have attempted suicide – substitute subjects The majority of studies on suicide, therefore, use suicide ideators and attempters as the subjects for research.

 

            I would argue that this is great for getting publications, academic success and grants, but almost totally useless for understanding suicide.

 

            You might argue that we are interested in suicide ideators and attempters themselves, and this is, of course, true, but they are not as interesting as suicides and will not help us to understand suicides. Let me give an example.

 

            Joiner’s (2005) Interpersonal Theory of Suicide proposes that thwarted belongingness and perceived burdensomeness are behind every suicide. Almost all of the research of this theory uses living subjects and, indeed, often scores on scales to measure these two constructs are associated positively with a measure of suicidality. This has been found in samples of psychiatric patients (Teismann, et al., 2016) and undergraduate students (Lockman & Servaty-Seib, 2016).

 

            But studies of suicide notes and suicides find that there is little evidence that perceived burdensomeness plays a role in more than15% of the suicides (Gunn, et al., 2012; Lester & Gunn, 2021). How is this possible?

 

            Giving undergraduate students Joiner’s test of perceived burdensomeness (which provides scores in the range of x-x) does not mean that their scores will be high. Almost all of the students may obtain low scores. Thus, the researcher is basically comparing students with very low scores to students with somewhat low scores. If a Likert-type scale is used (with scores ranging from -3 to +3), nearly all the students might have negative scores. The correlation, therefore, between perceived burdensomeness and suicidal ideation is difficult to interpret. If you strongly disagree that you are a burden to others, you are less suicidal than if you somewhat disagree that you are a burden. This does not help us understand those who die by suicide.

 

            This is not relevant only to Joiner’s IPTS theory of suicide. It applies to the defeat-entrapment theory of suicide, the cognitive distortion theory, and all theories. I used Joiner’s theory only because myself and John Gunn have studied suicides from the point of view of Joiner’s theory and found that perceived burdensomeness is rare in suicides.

 

            These is perhaps a way out of this problem. In two paper (Lester, et al., 1975, 1979), I argued that researchers could use attempted suicides to learn about if suicide, if and only if they categorized the attempters into groups by their level of lethality or their level of suicide intent. They could then extrapolate to those who died by suicide, and I illustrated this technique with demographic variables (e.g., sex) and hopelessness scores. It is rare that this procedure is used.

 

            Grants are awarded and academics are tenured and promoted on the basis of their research on living suicidal and non-suicidal individuals, but suicide remains a puzzle, difficult to predict and difficult to understand.

 

References

 

Gunn, J. F., Lester, D., Haines, J., & Williams, C. L. (2012). Thwarted belongingness and perceived burdensomeness in suicide notes. Crisis, 33, 178-181.

Joiner, T. E. (2005). Why people die by suicide. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Lester, D., Beck, A. T. & Mitchell, B. (1979). Extrapolation from attempted suicides to completed suicides: a test. Journal of Abnormal Psychology, 88, 78-80

Lester, D., Beck, A. T. & Trexler, L. (1975). Extrapolation from attempted suicides to completed suicides. Journal of Abnormal Psychology, 84, 563-566.

Lester, D., & Gunn, J. F. (2021). Is perceived burdensomeness present in the lives of famous suicides? Death Studies, in press.

Lockman, J. D., & Servaty-Seib, H. (2016). College student suicidal ideation. Death Studies, 40, 154-164.

Neuringer, C. (1962). Methodological problems in suicide research. Journal of Consulting Psychology, 26, 273-278

Teismann, T., Forkmann, T., Rath, D., Glaesmer, H., & Margraf, J. (2016). Perceived burdensomeness and suicide ideation in adult outpatients receiving exposure therapy for anxiety disorders. Behaviour Research & Therapy, 85, 1-5.

 

Saturday, November 07, 2020

David's rat research

 

David’s Rat Research

 David Lester

          When I refer to my graduate student days, I usually mention that I ran rats as a hobby. (My dissertation research was on suicidal behavior.) The psychology department bought me my first few batches of rats and paid for the shavings and food. Thereafter, I bred them myself. One year, we lived in an apartment with no one else in the building, and so I brought the rats home and kept them in a spare bedroom.

          My major interest was their exploratory behavior, and I tested a theory that mild levels of anxiety increased their exploratory behavior, while stronger levels of anxiety inhibited their exploratory behavior. Indeed, I got a small NIMH grant for young researchers to pursue the research, and I published some two dozen papers on the topic.

Lester, D. (1967). Exploratory behavior of dominant and submissive rats. Psychonomic Science, 9, 285-286.

Lester, D. (1968). Effects of habituation to fear on the exploratory behavior of rats. Nature, 220, 932.

          I never really liked Skinner’s theory of learning. Of course, the theory explains simple behaviors but, as I used to tell my students, it didn’t even fully explain the interesting behavior in rats! In fact, talking with Abraham Maslow (I was his teaching assistant) led me to my research on whether there were self-actualized rats, that is, rats who were good at everything – better explorers, better learners, etc.

          I remember in particular two of my rats. I was teaching them to turn left in a T-shaped maze for a food reward with four trials each day. They all learned this task. But one rat, on the first trial each day, would turn right but keep his back paws outside of the turn (so that I could not drop a guillotine door behind him because he did not meet my criterion of all four paws in the corridor). He would sniff the air, decide that there was no food there, back up carefully and then enter the left corridor. On the next three trials that day, he turned left, left and left. He did that every day. He was checking whether that I had switched the food on him.

          The other rat used speed. On the first trial of the day, he would zip into the right corridor and zip out, evading the descending door. Then he would go left for the rest of the day. I never was quick enough to catch him in the right-hand corridor.

          They never were rewarded for this behavior, but they persisted in checking on me. In later research, I found and reported in a published article that the quickest learners were also the best explorers. I meant to go on and see if they excelled at other tasks, but a job offer from Gene Brockopp to work at the suicide prevention center in Buffalo ended my rat research.

          There are other interesting aspects to the research. The maze I used was about three feet up from the floor and, occasionally, rats would back up in fear and fall off the equipment. I discarded their data because this might have changed their anxiety level which I was manipulating. I always reported in my published reports that x rats fell off the equipment, and their data were discarded. I never found any other researcher on exploratory behavior in rats reporting that their rats fell of the equipment. I’m sure that their rats fell too, but the researchers never bothered to report this.

          I also replicated a study by another research on exploratory behavior in blinded rats. (They were white rats.) Blinding my rats was so traumatic for me that I decided to never do any physiological research on rats again. None of my fellow graduate students went to see my blinded rats, and I concluded that, rather than enucleation being symbolic of castration (a Freudian hypothesis), castration was symbolic of enucleation and, therefore, more anxiety arousing! By the way, the research showed that blinding had no impact on the rats’ exploratory behavior – because they do not use vision but rather their whiskers and sense of smell.

Lester, D. (1967). Exploratory behavior in peripherally blinded rats. Psychonomic Science, 8, 7-8.

 

Thursday, October 29, 2020

David as a Survivor

 

David as a Survivor

David Lester

          I have worked with two survivors for scholarly papers, Donna Barnes and Denise Pazur, and I should like to thank them sincerely for working with me.

          I have had a colleague at the university died by suicide, but he and I were not close. Then, one day, out of the blue, an e-mail arrived from a woman who had read my book Fixin’ to Die. She was a chronic suicide attempter and was planning to die by suicide. She thought I’d understand. I e-mailed back, but I was cautious. Perhaps this was a prank, and the writer was not whom she seemed to be. Eventually, however, I knew that she was authentic. She lived near Canterbury, England, and was a 22-year-old woman.

          I decided that I would try to “save her.” I purchased Tom Ellis’s book Choosing to Live and sent it to her. (That is how I learned her address.) I also sent her articles on irrational thinking, and she responded that she did not think irrationally! One day, after a few months, her e-mails stopped. Two weeks later, I received an e-mail asking whether I was angry. She had attempted suicide again. (Of course, I was not angry, I assured her.) We exchanged many more e-mails, some humorous. And then they stopped for good.

          I was visiting England a few months later, and I stopped by the town where she lived. I had trouble finding her address initially, went to the local police station, and asked if they knew of her suicide. They had not. When I finally located her apartment, I write a note and dropped it through the mail slot.

          A few weeks later, I got an e-mail from her sister who asked who I was. I explained, and I gave her enough details about her sister to convince her that we had e-mailed a great deal and grown close. Her sister then told me that she had attempted suicide again. The local health agency was checking on her every day, and so they saved her and placed her in a psychiatric hospital. The hospital took her off suicide watch after a week, whereupon she hung herself in the ward. That hurt. She was afraid of hanging herself, but she knew that she would have to, she told me, because they kept saving her after overdoses.

          I wrote to Tom feeling incompetent, and he replied with reassurance. My trying to save her was like trying to save an alcoholic with a birthday card, he said.

          Why am I writing this? Because I have never analyzed her or written a scholarly article about her. I had kept all of the e-mails and information I had about her, and I destroyed them. It was too personal for me to be analytical about her.

          I’m old now. I had forgotten her name. I found three photographs that she had sent me and that I had kept, and they had her name: Vicki.

          This is why I am immensely grateful to Denise and Donna for letting me work with them. I know how hard that must have been.

References

Barnes, D. H., Lawal-Solarin, F. W., & Lester, D. Letters from a suicide. Death Studies, 2007, 31, 671-678.

Barnes, D. H., Pazur, D., & Lester, D. Parents’ views of their child’s death by suicide. Illness, Crisis & Loss, 2014, 22, 181-193.

Ellis, T. E., & Newman, C. Choosing to live. Oakland, CA: New Harbinger Publications, 1996.

Lester, D. Fixin’ to die: a compassionate guide ot committing suicide or staying alive. Amityville, NY: Baywood, 2003.

Lester, D., & Barnes, D. H. Survivors and researchers collaborate. Surviving Suicide, 2007, 19(2), 10-11.

 

Friday, October 23, 2020

Serendipity

 

SERENDIPITY

 

David Lester

 

          How did we get where we are? There is nature (our genes) and nurture (our experiences), of course. But there is also serendipity, completely unpredictable events that have a major impact on one’s life. What serendipitous events helped me to be where I am?

 

          Romance, for one. Meeting a 17-year-old girl at summer school in France in 1963 and falling in love with her was a huge event by itself, but also a serendipitous event. We never married, but her parents sponsored me as an immigrant to the USA so that I came on a green card. I would have remained in England had it not been for meeting Mary.

 

          And Bijou, of course. I never went to division meetings at the college, but I was bored in September 1985, and so I went. I needed an economist to write a chapter in a book on the death penalty, and there she was, an econometrician from the University of Pennsylvania. Bijou changed my life personally and professionally. I had almost given up suicide research, and I never went to professional meetings. All that changed drastically. For example, I published 31 articles in 1985 before I met Bijou, 71 in 1987 and 97 in 1988. I went to my first annual meeting of the American Association of Suicidology in 1987 wearing my newly purchased suit, and I was President of the International Association for Suicide from 1991 to 1995.

 

          The psychology department at Cambridge University focused on experimental psychology. One day, sitting in the department library I saw a book Clues to Suicide by Ed Sheidman and Norm Farberow. It shouldn’t have been there. The department was not interested in those kinds of topics. I took it and looked at the 33 pairs of suicide notes at the back, each consisting of one genuine note and one simulated note. It seemed to me that I could correctly choose the genuine one easily, although I never formally checked that. Years later, when I was asked to choose a topic for my dissertation, I said SUICIDE because of that book. (Sidebar: Ed and I never got along!)

 

          In England, one applies to one university and only one. I choose Cambridge University. (That gave me the choice of five colleges there to rank order in preference, and I made St. John’s College my first choice of the five.) When I emigrated to the USA, I applied to one university – the University of California at Berkeley. That was it. One day, the bulletin board in the psychology department had an advertisement from Brandeis University offering scholarships for foreign students. Why not apply there too? I did. My supervisor of studies (Alan Welford) and I had never heard of Brandeis University. I didn’t know it was primarily a Jewish university. I looked up the faculty. We had never heard of Abraham Maslow or the other professors there. Brandeis offered me a generous fellowship (a Charles Revson Fellowship – of Revlon cosmetics fame), and Berkeley said that, maybe, there would be financial support. I chose to go to Brandeis. The psychology department at Brandeis let me choose my dissertation topic (suicide) and, in addition, allowed me to run rat research for fun (and paid for the rats and supplies) and to publish scholarly works as a graduate student. I met Maslow, became his TA, and had him on my dissertation committee. Hence my only NIMH grant (for rat research) and my multiple self theory of personality (a theory of the mind).

 

          There are other events about which I’ve questioned their serendipity, but one expects to catch the flu occasionally. One expects to run into interesting researchers at conferences and later collaborate with them. One doesn’t expect to go to summer school in France and end up in the USA. That is serendipity!

Tuesday, September 29, 2020

My Debt to Hans Eysenck

 

My Debt to Hans Eysenck 

David Lester

          It used to be, and probably still is, that a mention of Hans Eysenck, at least in the United States, would cause other psychologists to roll their eyes. He wasn’t liked, and often not respected as a psychologist. Yes, he was testy and always replied to articles that were critical of his research. He took unpopular positions, such as the genetic basis for personality traits, including intelligence. (My senior thesis advisor, Alice Heim, used to argue that intelligence is best viewed as a personality trait, not as some indispensable ability that enables one to survive in this world.) And, of course people like to gloat over cases where his collaborators might have invented their data (Pelosi, 2019). But I owe Hand Eysenck a debt, maybe two debts.

          It is unusual to change majors in England. We specialize at the age of 16, and I chose physics, chemistry and mathematics. That is all one studies for the next two or three years. (It’s three years if you want to go to Oxbridge.) Part 1 of my BA degree is in physics and mathematics for I had dropped chemistry at university. After a year and a half, I had a crisis. Was I good enough to be a physicist? One cannot change majors to anything that is taught in high school, for one would be 4½ years behind. That left the social sciences. I choose psychology.

          I went to the library and got a book on psychology, about which I knew nothing. It sounded interesting. The book was dated about 1920. My Director of Studies (Alan Welford) wrote back immediately telling me not to read it! He suggested books by Eysenck. Uses and Abuses of Psychology, Sense and Nonsense in Psychology, and Fact and Fiction in Psychology. Eventually I read them all, and they convinced me that I had not made a drastic mistake in changing majors, and they helped me withstand the first few lectures on physiological psychology (by Lawrence Weiskrantz). I didn’t learn how to spell emigdala (amygdala) for another year.

          Eysenck’s books are interesting, scientific, and relevant. He hated psychoanalysis, which I have come to appreciate (and believe in), and I do use some of his examples to ridicule psychoanalysis in my lectures when I am covering other perspectives. In my research and theorizing, I have used Eysenck’s theories and his personality inventory. They have great value. My advice to those who roll their eyes when Eysenck’s name in mentioned, is make more of an effort to be as successful and important a psychologist as he was.

          My second debt was to Eysenck is in his role as editor of Personality & Individual Differences, his journal. Over the years, he accepted many of my papers and encouraged my research. Yes, of course, he was eager for citations, and it was important to cite his papers in one’s articles. In this, however, he was way ahead of his time, for now citations are critical for academic success in the better universities. Recently, it has been suggested that Google Scholar citations, one’s h-index and one’s i10-index should be part of any application for an academic position, tenure or promotion.

          I intended to visit him in London and make his personal acquaintance, but he died (in 1997) before I made good on my intention. I always showed an interview with him in my course on theories of personality, and that is as close as I got to Hans Eysenck. But I remain in his debt.

Reference

Pelosi, A. J. (2019). Personality and fatal diseases. Journal of Health Psychology, 24, 421-439.

Saturday, September 26, 2020

Suicides at Guantanamo Bay

 

Suicides at Guantanamo Bay[1]

 David Lester

          The detention center for suspected terrorists at Guantanamo Bay has handled 771 individuals for varying amount of time, of whom 629 arrived in 2002 and 40 remain as of September 2020. There have been 9 deaths of prisoners recorded at the detention center, of which 7 have been labelled as suicides. There have however, been questions raised as to whether these deaths were really suicides rather than homicides or deaths resulting from torture at the hands of the staff (Horton, 2010). Some military officials labelled these suicides as acts of war by jihadists seeking martyrdom (Savage, 2011).

          Three of these suicides occurred in 2006 (apparently in a suicide pact using hanging), one in 2007, one in 2009, one in 2011, and one in 2012. To calculate a suicide rate, the years 2002 to 2019 were included, and the average population in June and July used. The average population per year for the 18-year period was 266.8, with an average of 0.39 suicides per year, giving a suicide rate of 8.10 per 100,000 per year.

          There were many attempted suicides at the prison, mostly by overdosing on medication, but also by hanging and cutting, with more than 120 reported by the end of 2004, as well as many more acts of self-harm.[2] One prisoner was reported as having made 12 serious suicide attempts. There were also hunger strikes by prisoners to protest their treatment (Savage, 2011).

References

Horton, S. (2010). "The Guantánamo "Suicides": A Camp Delta sergeant blows the whistle". Harper's Magazine. Archived from the original on January 18, 2010.

Savage, C. (2011). As acts of war or despair, suicides rattle a prison. New York Times, April 24, online.



[1] These data come from https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/projects/guantanamo

[2] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Guantanamo_Bay_detention_camp_suicide_attempts

Tuesday, August 18, 2020

Suicide by pilots of commercial aircraft: The missing Malaysian Airlines flight MH370

 

SUICIDE BY PILOTS OF COMMERCIAL AIRCRAFT: THE MISSING MALAYSIAN AIRLINES FLIGHT MH370

 

David Lester

 

            I noted in 2002 (Lester, 2002) that occasionally pilots of commercial aircraft die by suicide while piloting their plane full of passengers.[1] The example I gave was of Gameel-al-Batouti, the co-pilot of EgyptAir flight 900 which crashed into the Atlantic Ocean on October 31, 1999, an act which seemed to be suicidal Langewiesche (2001).

 

            More recently, Langewiesche (2019) has given more examples of possible suicides by pilots: (1) in 1997, the pilot of a SilkAir plane (an Indonesian airline) is believed to have disabled the black boxes of his Boeing 737 and crashed the plane into a river, (2) the pilot of a LAM Mozambique Airlines flight 470 flew his Embraer E190 into the ground killing all 27 passengers, and (3) Andreas Lubitz, the co-pilot, crashed his Germanwings Airbus into the French Alps, having locked the pilot out of the cockpit when the pilot went to the bathroom.

 

            In his new article, Langewiesche argues that the most likely scenario for the missing Malaysian Airlines flight 370, which disappeared over the Indian Ocean March 8, 2014, was that the pilot deliberately choose to die by suicide, taking all the passengers and crew (who were most likely already dead inside the plane) with him.

 

            Langewiesche saw the co-pilot as an unlikely instigator or collaborator. He was young, an optimist and planning to get married. He had no history which would suggest suicidal inclinations. In contrast, the co-pilot of the Germanwings plane that crashed flew for budget airlines with low pay and showed signs in the past of psychological problems.

 

            In contrast, the pilot of MH370, Amad Shah Zaharie, although described by his family and the authorities as a happy family man and excellent pilot, was described by friends as often sad and lonely. His wife had moved out to their second home, and Zaharie spent the time between flights pacing empty rooms. He had a wistful relationship with a married woman who had three children, he was interested in two Internet models whom he met on social media, and he had a history of liaisons with the flight attendants. Some who knew him thought he was clinically depressed. Prior to the disappearance of MH370, Zaharie had experimented in a simulator with the flight path that MH370 most likely followed.

 

            In none of these cases was a reputable and thorough psychological autopsy carried by a qualified suicidologist, and so the conclusion that these pilots and co-pilots chose to die by suicide, killing their passengers as collateral damage, must remain a hypothesis. However, suicide remains the most likely cause of the crashes given current information.

 

References

 

Langewiesche, W. (2001). The crash of EgyptAir 900. Atlantic Monthly, 288(4), 68-92.

Langewiesche, W. (2019). “Goodnight Malaysian three-seven-zero.” Atlantic Monthly, 324(1), 78-94.

Lester, D. (2002). Suicide and aircraft. Crisis, 23, 2.



[1] I also noted cases of passengers dying by suicide by causing the plane to crash and a pilot who died by suicide after he had crashed his plane.

Wednesday, August 12, 2020

The suicide of a gypsy

 

The suicide of a gypsy

 

          I have always been interested in suicidal behavior in the oppressed. I have written about suicide in the German concentration camps of World War Two, suicide in prisoners, and other oppressed groups. I was also fortunate to be asked to contribute a chapter on suicide in the Roma people and Irish Travellers:

 

Lester, D. Suicide among the Roma people and Irish Travelers. In D. van Bergen, A. H. Montesinos & M. Schouler-Ocak (Eds.) Suicidal behavior of immigrants and ethnic minorities in Europe. Boston, MA: Hogrefe, 2015, pp. 101-111.

 

At the IASP conference in Brussels in 1989, I saw a poster on suicide in Hungarian gypsies by Tamas Zonda, and I persuaded Tamas to let me help him publish his study.

 

Zonda, T., & Lester, D. Suicide among Hungarian gypsies. Acta Psychiatrica Scandinavica, 1990, 82, 381-382.

 

          This week, The Economist reported that a successful member of the Roma people had died by suicide at the age of 46. László Bogdán (he preferred the label Cigány rather than Roma) was the mayor of Cserdi, a town of 350 in southern Hungary. He was elected mayor in 2006 and had transformed the village. The town had dilapidated houses, joblessness, rubble strewn everywhere, and 300 cases of petty crime each year. Under László, the houses became restored and neat, with bathrooms added, and people worked in the fields and in plastic greenhouses producing quality vegetables. Officials from other towns came to learn from the Roma people working in the Cserdi miracle. László (Laci) ran the town like a father, watching over everyone and trying to motivate the young people to go to university. Roma from outside the village sometimes criticized him, for some preferred to remain victims.

 

          According to The Economist, there were no clues that he might die by suicide but, then, the villagers and The Economist’s reporter are not trained to notice the clues which I’m sure were there. It is hard for a Roma to move into the mainstream where he or she might have influence on, or even in, the government. It is a tragedy to lose László.

 

Tuesday, August 11, 2020

A day at the office (before I retired in 2015)

 

A DAY AT THE OFFICE

 

            Although I was awake at 5 a.m., I fell asleep again and was woken by the alarm clock at 5.45 a.m., but I usually wake up before it rings, and turn it off. As is common, I woke up with a headache. I took my shower, dressed, and left the house at 6 a.m.

 

            The drive to the college is 40 miles and takes about an hour in the morning when there’s no traffic, a straight road most of the way down Route 30 (which goes from Astoria, Oregon, to Atlantic City, via Philadelphia). Almost all my life in New Jersey (since 1975) has been spent driving up and down Route 30. One day, I must drive it all the way to Oregon.

 

            There are four McDonalds on the way to the college, but I like the one nearest the college in Egg Harbor. I arrived thereat 6.50 a.m. This morning I had a two-for-one coupon (My Dean keeps me fed with McDonalds’ coupons), and I had the bacon, egg and cheese bagel, with a senior coffee for $3.68. I like to read there, and I read a cute story about a high school female athlete in Texas, staying there longer than usual. I got my free refill of coffee and arrived at the college at 7.30 a.m.

 

            The one-mile drive into the college is through pine woods. Usually I see deer there, but there were none today. The sun was a pale silver disc hidden behind low clouds racing by. That last mile is a pleasure each time I come to the college.

 

            After getting to my office, I opened the SOBL (Social & Behavioral Sciences) office and had the place to myself. Except, catastrophe, the Xerox machine was broken and unfixable. I did my printing (a revision of an article on the Suicide Opinion Questionnaire which has been accepted by Omega and the cover letter, a chapter for a festschrift for Ronald Clarke, a former colleague, a draft of a chapter on workplace violence, the first of a series of letters written by a suicide, and a handout for my statistics class).

 

            At 8, I panicked because I seemed to have lost a copyright form. (I eventually found it in the envelope for Omega, where it was supposed to be.) And then one of my advisees stopped by to check whether she had registered for the correct courses. I teased her that I am not supposed to be disturbed before class, but I sat with and checked her courses. I checked my e-mails and printed the important ones (so much for the paperless office) and went off to my 8.30 am class on Statistical Methods.

 

At the end of the class, I gave them a quiz on permutations and combinations and, while they did it, I typed in scores from a questionnaire on religiosity that my students had filled out earlier in the semester. (They are using the data for their SPSS projects.)

 

            I was back in my office at 10.15 a.m. I typed in some data for a study on state measures of irrationality for a study I’m doing with Bijou, printed some journal articles from online (including a psychological autopsy study of suicides in Bali). Then I went to the library to get an interlibrary loan book (for a study one of my students is planning on Internet addiction) and a book in our library someone had recommended as relevant to my multiple-self theory of personality.

 

            At 10.45, I wrote an e-mail to Tamas Zonda in Hungary about a study he wants me to help write up and publish on panic disorder and suicide, downloaded some data from Ben Park (at Penn State University) on “reasons for living” that he had collected in South Korea, and at 11 a.m. broke for lunch (my second bacon, egg and cheese bagel).

 

            At 11.20, I ran some analyses on incidents of mass murder that I need for my chapter on workplace violence (do the murderers who commit suicide kill more victims than those who are arrested?), got my “in press” files to take home to organize, and then collapsed. I have an old leather chair in my office that a colleague threw out, and I rested there for half an hour. (I used to have a bed in my office but, foolishly, I threw it out a few years ago so that I could have more filing cabinets!)

 

            The Xerox machine was still not fixed (it was “down” for the rest of the day), and so I did not have much to do. I attended to e-mails and sneaked some important Xeroxing on other machines. At 12.25, I went off to my 12.30 class on Abnormal Psychology. I was showing a video on manic-depression and I scored helplessness/hopelessness questionnaires from students while the video played. Two students would not stop talking. I hushed them and then threw a blackboard eraser in their general direction – about three feet from them. The other students laughed, but one of the talkers claimed to be upset by this! My next class is at 2.30 p.m. (the classes are each 1 hour and 50 minutes long) on Personality and, as soon as that class ended, I felt exhausted again and left for home (at 4.15).

 

            It takes longer to get home (with the traffic), and I arrived at 5.45, fixed myself a margarita and, because Bijou teaches on Thursday nights, heated a Lean Cuisine frozen dinner. I called my son (who had called Bijou earlier in the day) and called Alan to tell him that the movie (Amelia) we want to see has not opened yet.

 

Most evenings I work a little, but tonight I was tired. I had the Ole Miss-South Carolina college football game on the television, I checked and wrote e-mails, I played card games on the PC, and I worked a little – organized the “in press” files and typed up a handout for my statistics class, all at the same time – nothing intense.

 

Bijou arrived home at 10 p.m.

 

            This semester, I teach only two days (Tuesdays and Thursdays) and, as I get older, I find it tiring to teach three 2-hour classes each day as well as getting my printing, xeroxing and data analyses done. But I do like the four-day weekend. On alternate semesters, I teach Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, with shorter classes and longer breaks between classes, but those days are longer. On Mondays and Wednesdays, I start teaching at 8.30 a.m. and finish at 5.20 p.m., although on Fridays, I am finished teaching at 11.10 a.m. And I have a “normal” weekend. It’s a toss up which schedule I prefer, so alternating semesters is probably the best choice.

Interview with David as a thanatologist

 

INTERVIEW WITH DAVID AS A THANATOLOGIST[1]

Why did you develop a death anxiety scale?

As psychologists, we spend much of our time looking for predispositions and long-term indications of why people become who they are and why they behave as they do. We neglect the role of serendipity.

 

I went to Cambridge University to read physics and switched to psychology because I was depressed during a bout of influenza one Christmas. The Department of Psychology at Cambridge University was heavily experimental. Their library, however, had, perhaps by mistake, purchased Clues to Suicide by Shneidman and Farberow (1957), which I discovered and read and which moved me greatly.

 

I ended up at Brandeis University because I fell in love with and American college student whom I met in France, and because Brandeis University sent a flyer to Cambridge University advertising generous fellowships for foreign students. (More serendipity.) As it turned out, my graduate work was paid for by Revlon Cosmetics or, more precisely, the Revson Foundation. I had the opportunity to work with Abraham Maslow who let us choose our own topics for dissertations, and so permitted me to study death and suicide.

 

Finally, I had to take a graduate course with a new assistant professor who had us read Edwards’s (1957) book on scale construction and assigned us the task of constructing a scale. I chose to measure the fear of death.

 

As I reviewed the literature on the fear of death, I was struck by the absence of well-designed scales for this trait (Lester, 1967). Although I am fascinated most by theory, I have been struck by how research to a large extent neglects theory and is stimulated by the availability of a good psychological test. For example, Rotter’s (1966) notion of an internal versus an external locus of control can be related back to psychological theory, but the tremendous research activity on this topic was stimulated in part by the availability of his scale (and later those of others) to measure the trait.

 

I did not publish the so-called Lester Attitude Toward Death Scale until recently, although I used it in research and made it available to anyone who wrote for a copy (Lester, 1991a). It was really a graduate student exercise determined by the content of the course I was taking. But this exercise got me interested in test construction and suggested the possibility of measuring several components of a trait with one scale. My first scale measured two traits: the general attitude toward death, and inconsistency in death attitudes.

 

Serendipity again intruded when I took up my first teaching position at Wellesley College. Lora Jean Collett was working with Eugene McCarthy on his bid for the presidency. Had McCarthy won, there might have been no Collett-Lester Fear of Death Scale (Lester, 1990). But he lost, and Lora Jean asked how she was going to pass her course with me. We decided on the fear of death scale project.

 

I had been disturbed by the complexity of the content of the fear of death scales then available. It seemed to me that they were mixing several dimensions, in particular, death versus dying and whether consideration was being given to oneself or to another person. Additionally, there were also items on funerals, cemeteries and pessimism. These various aspects might be highly related but, if so, this relatedness was something that needed to be explored empirically.

 

Furthermore, I had never liked item-analyses (and factor-analyses in particular) to determine subscales. I have always preferred to use the manifest content of the items to choose my subscales. (Of course, I do carry out item-analyses and sometimes publish them, but I do not give them greater weight than content). So we wrote four subscales: fear of death of self, fear of death of other, fear of dying of self, and fear of dying of others. (I left the funeral scale until later [Lester & Blustein, 1980]).

 

It perhaps noticeable to others that, although I teach about the reliability and validity of psychological test, I was not overly interested in exploring the reliability and validity of my own scales. Luckily, by the time I formally published both scales, others had conducted a great deal of research with them, so that I could present a fairly good manual for each scale (Lester, 1990, 1991a).

 

Has being a research on death affected your professional life?

I am primarily known as a “suicide scholar,” though I also conduct research into the fear of death and into murder. But I think that being a death scholar does have professional implications. Death is not a respectable topic for psychologists. A perusal of the textbooks for the core curriculum of psychology quickly reveals that death and suicide are almost never mentioned (save that abnormal psychology texts have a brief section on suicide in the chapter on affective disorders.) Death is not a topic amenable to laboratory research, and psychology has been addicted to laboratory research.

 

Of course, psychologists do occasionally move out of the laboratory to conduct research. But academic psychology focuses on experimental control and laboratory analogs for human behavior. To me, that kind of research is no different from crossword puzzles or chess problems. What has interested me is human behavior in its natural setting. Hence I focus, for example, on murder, rather than some pale laboratory analog of aggression such as shocking a stooge in a learning task for making errors.

 

Psychiatrists can study death because fears of death, suicide, and murder are in important problems for them. For sociologists, suicide, received a certain measure of respectability by Durkheim’s (1897) work on the topic. But no famous theoretical psychologist has ever focused on death (except, of course, for the existentialists who remain on the fringe of the field).

 

To remedy this situation, I recently wrote a book in which I took the major theories of personality and saw to what extent they might enlighten us about suicide (Lester, 1988). I have also explored the major systems of psychotherapy for counseling the suicidal client (Lester, 1991b). Through these books, I hope to influence textbook writers that it is permissible and even useful to discuss suicide.

 

I believe that those whose scholarly focus is death will be less likely to be offered positions in the psychology departments at major universities.

 

What are the conclusive and significant findings about death anxiety?

Are there any conclusive findings which have great interest? Perhaps one such finding is that, however measured, death anxiety is associated with psychopathology. Perhaps another is that the concept of death (and, therefore, death anxiety) develops with age. It seems to me that not all adults will share the same concept of death, though, and their concepts of death might affect their death anxiety.

 What are the most significant omissions in the death anxiety scale literature?

There is one major problem in the death anxiety scale literature, and that is the reliance on the self-report of conscious death anxiety. To be sure, it is sometimes foolish for psychologists to go to great lengths to measure psychological traits in people without their conscious awareness. Sometimes it is simply easier and just s valid to ask people directly about the focus of concern.

 

However, I believe that death anxiety is quite different at the conscious level (e.g., sitting at a desk and answering a questionnaire) from what it might be in other situations. In the 1960s and 1970s there were a few studies of subliminally-measured death anxiety, but general interest in this approach was never truly aroused.

 

Secondly, death anxiety under particular stressors may differ considerably from that experienced when taking a self-report test. For example, I always obtain minimal scores on death anxiety scales when I complete them myself. However, I have had occasional anxiety attacks about death and dying (especially at night and when traveling abroad). On occasions when the airplane in which I was flying seemed likely to crash, my death anxiety became quite high!

 

We need to find out what factors lead to the generation of our death anxiety. What childhood experiences, family patterns, and parental behaviors lead to the development of high versus low death anxiety? Donald Templer and I collaborated many years ago on a study of the association between the death anxiety of students and their parents; this was a first step, but much more needs to be done in exploring the genesis of death anxiety (Lester & Templer, 1972).

 

Another problem with death anxiety research is its lack of a theoretical basis. The only psychologists who place any importance on death anxiety are the existentialists who see death anxiety as one of the four major existential problems that we must deal with (along with isolation, freedom, and will). I think research on death anxiety must draw from theoretical positions so that the research will seem to have greater implications for clinical psychology.

Have death anxiety scales lent themselves to a self-insulating, glass wall type of research? 

Psychological research is stimulated much more by the development of particular scales than by theory. Of course, the scale itself may have a theoretical basis or influence, but, once the scale appears, it generates hundreds of studies if the concept measured appeals to people. This later research is often atheoretical. It is easy to criticize research which is scale-based rather than theory-based (or based on introspection of the objective phenomenon). However, the research findings so generated do form a body of knowledge which, appropriately reviewed, can lead to interesting insights. And there are, of course some researchers who do think a little beyond the constraints imposed by an existing scale.

 

What factors should a researcher consider before deciding to use a death anxiety scale?

 

I have a bias here, not surprisingly. I feel that a multi-component death anxiety scale is crucial. It is unlikely that a particular life experience would affect all aspects of death anxiety. It may affect attitudes toward death or toward the process of dying, for example, or attitudes toward one’s own death or that of others. If a personality trait or experience is strongly related to all types of death anxiety, then it may well be related to all forms of anxiety, and have no special relevance to death anxiety.

 

On the other hand, to use a multi-component scale complicates one’s results. What if only one of the component scales gives you the results you hypothesized? Does this make the article weaker and less acceptable to a good scholarly journal? Might it be better to use a one-measure scale and gamble on getting one strong association?

 

However, it might be better if investigators did think through their hypotheses more carefully and ask whether they expect a change in or association with all fears of death or merely attitudes toward funerals, death, or dying.

 

I think also that investigators should strive for greater creativity. For example, there are other components besides simple death anxiety. In recent years, I have devised a simple measure of Laingian ontological insecurity, including doubts that one really exists (Lester & Thinschmidt, 1988). What about the existence of reunion fantasies and beliefs in the existence of life after death? I was intrigued by the old research on metaphors of death, but here has been very little follow-up on that (especially in identifying the core metaphors) (McClelland, 1963).

 What is your concept of death anxiety?

In my early work, my concept of death anxiety was determined by the technique of measurement. Could I devise an equal-interval scale to measure death attitudes? In thinking about the concept more, I decided that the items in the scales were rather heterogeneous, and so scales measuring different aspects of death and dying could be measured. However, in recent years, I have come to feel that the death attitude scale could (and perhaps should) be based more on theory. For example, Laing’s (1969) concept of ontological insecurity includes the feeling that one does not really exist. To develop a scale to measure death attitudes based on Laing’s ideas not only might provide an interesting research instrument, but would also tie the research directly to theory. In fact, I have published a brief scale to do this, as noted above.

 

Because of the dependence of so much research, including my own, on scale-generated studies, I have not thought much at all about my own concept of death anxiety and which theories I might base it on. Being forced now to reflect on this, I would opt for a multiplicity of concepts. Teaching as I do a course on theories of personality, I would prefer to develop concepts of death anxiety from each of the theories. For example, from George Kelly’s theory of personal constructs, we could focus on the difficulties in construing death. From Abraham Maslow, we could focus on both safety and security needs as generating a lower level (deficiency-motivated) death attitude. And from Freud we could search for infant fears (such as of destruction and mutilation) which could provide the basis for later fears of death.

 

As perhaps is evident from my research over the years, although I have my preferred theories, I like to be eclectic and use different theories to generate research hypotheses. And with regard to my own personal concept of death anxiety, surely all of this research on death has served to intellectualize my reactions to death and avoid reflection on my own personal death?

 

References

 

Durkheim, E. (1897). Le suicide. Paris: Felix Alcan

Edwards, A. L. (1957). Techniques of attitude scale construction. New York: Appleton-Century.

Laing, R. D. (1969). The divided self. New York: Pantheon.

Lester, D. (1967). Experimental and correlational studies of the fear of death. Psychological Bulletin, 67, 27-36.

Lester, D. (1988). Suicide from a psychological perspective. Springfield, IL: Charles C. Thomas.

Lester, D. (1990). The Collett-Lester Fear of Death Scale. Death Studies, 14, 451-468.

Lester, D. (1991a). The Lester Attitude Toward Death Scale. Omega, 23, 67-75.

Lester, D. (1991b). Psychotherapy for suicidal clients. Springfield, IL: Charles C. Thomas.

Lester, D., & Blustein, J. (1980). Attitudes toward funerals. Psychological Reports, 46, 1074.

Lester, D., & Templer, D. I. (1972). Resemblance of parent-child death-anxiety asa a function of age and sex of the child. Psychological Reports, 21, 750.

Lester, D., & Thinschmidt, J. (1988). The relationship of Laing’s concept of ontological insecurity to extraversion and neuroticism. Personality & Individual Differences, 9. 687-688.

McClelland, D. (1963). The Harlequin complex. In R. W. White (Ed.) The study of lives, pp. 91-119. New York: Atherton.

Rotter, J. B. (1966). Generalized expectancies for internal versus external control of reinforcement. Psychological Monographs, 80, Number 1.

Shneidman, E. S., & Farberow, N. L. (1957). Clues to suicide. New York: McGraw-Hill.



[1] From Lester, D., & Templer, D. I. (1992-1993). Death anxiety scales. Omega, 26, 239-253.

 

Reflections on a Scholarly Career

 

Reflections on a Scholarly Career

 

            The only career I remember planning as a child was farming. My aunt had a small farm with one cow, half a dozen breeding sows and 300 or so chickens. I loved visiting the farm in Norfolk and helping out with the chores – collecting eggs, putting the broody hens in a pen, mucking out he piglets, etc. I subscribed to Pig Farmer, and I bought a book on how to turn 500 acres of scrub land into a farm. I still remember that the Landrace pig (a Danish pig) has an extra rib, and so you get more meat.

 

            I was never very good at physics and chemistry at the age of 15, but then the two old codgers who taught those classes retired, and two younger teachers took over. I excelled. At the age of 16, in England, you specialize. All my classes thereafter were in physics, chemistry and mathematics. King’s College was interested only in sending the students to Oxbridge, and I got a major scholarship to St. John’s College at Cambridge University. Rather than idling for six months waiting to go, I persuaded my peers to study more mathematics before we arrived at Cambridge University. At Cambridge, I dropped chemistry and studied physics and mathematics – nothing else. Part 1 of my BA was in physics and mathematics, the equivalent of a BA here in the USA.

 

            I wanted to be the next Albert Einstein.

 

            I’ve described above why I switched to psychology. The result has always been a disappointment. The social sciences are not the natural sciences, and psychology is not physics. I’ve never taken psychology seriously. I think, if I had remained in physics and obtained my PhD and become a researcher, I would have published perhaps 30 or 40 papers, as my college roommate, Leslie, did. (He was an astrophysicist.) Instead, I have over 2,600 scholar articles, note, chapters and books in the social sciences. It’s not really enough to match 30 good physics papers.

 

            Serendipitously, I become interested in suicide, and I was allowed to choose that for my PhD thesis. I have become one of the world’s most foremost suicidologists. But, even that is not my main interest. I like theories of the mind (called Theories of Personality in psychology curricula). After teaching that course for many years, I went back and re-read the major theorists in the field and devised my own textbook and course. Later, I developed my own theory of the mind, published in two books and several articles. I think I am most pleased with that work even though it will never become a “major” theory of personality. It is odd to note that that topic was not taught by the psychology program at Cambridge (which focused on experimental psychology – learning, physiological psychology, and perception).

 

            I wanted to be the next Sigmund Freud. No chance!

 

            Because I could never take psychology seriously, and because I was tenured and a full professor at Richard Stockton State College at the age of 33, I could have fun as a scholar. I could write a note or a paper on whatever topic I liked, publish in any journal I liked, and say whatever I like. I’ve written on preventing suicide and assisting suicide. I used one case (by Ludwig Binswanger, an existential psychiatrist) to argue for suicide as a good death in one article and to accuse Binswanger of psychic murder (getting rid of a difficult patient by letting her die by suicide) in another article.

 

            I’ve written some good papers and books, cited by hundreds (and in one case thousands). Since I read everything on suicide from 1897 on, I have published on suicide from an anthropological, psychological, sociological, psychiatric, criminal justice, feminist, religion, etc perspective. I see myself in some ways as a creative, scholarly opportunist.

 

            But, I wonder. What if I had applied those same scholarly and creative skills to theoretical physics? What could I have achieved in that field? I’ll never know. My psychotherapist back in 1985 said that I would have benefited by counseling back in 1962., counseling to stay in physics.

 

            Of course, if I had, then perhaps I would not have emigrated to the United States, met Bijou, and ended up cruising the world in comfort.