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why are we more afraid in the dark?
6 minute read
humans are not designed to thrive in the dark, likely why anxiety can spike in poorly lit settings. getty
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ten adults stand on the staircase in the elgin theatre in toronto. polished brass railings line the stone staircases that lead to the many entrances and exits of the world’s last operating edwardian double-decker theatre. it’s tall ceilings are framed with gold moulding, illuminated by the warmly-lit sconces hung on the wall.
the group is clustered around a table on the second landing. there are no windows in this corridor, no chances for the last remaining dregs of light to slip into the room before the sun finally sets. to the left of the group, the door to a storage closet rattles softly. a few heads turn.
the alone in the dark experience at the elgin and winter garden theatre is unlike most haunted houses in that there are no paid actors (that the visitors can see, anyways), costumes or special effects. visitors are simply invited into a historical landmark entrenched in ghost stories, with the opportunity to experience the cavernous theatre in the pitch black — and anything else that decides to join.
“it is more interesting in the dark,” says margo macdonald, a paranormal investigator working with the haunted walk toronto, which also offers spooky ghost tours and “paranormal investigations” in kingston and ottawa. “a lot of the stories that we tell on our tours that we’ve got from people have happened during broad daylight. but there’s something about [being in the dark] that adds that additional thrill to the story.”
the idea that things are at least a little scarier in the dark does have some scientific merit. research conducted at yale university’s school of medicine has shown that people tend to have a greater startle reflex when sitting alone with the lights out. in this study, subjects sat alone in a room that was either brightly lit or in complete darkness. headphones worn by the participants played gentle white noise but would, at random intervals, play a loud burst of sound. researchers found participants had a greater startle response to the loud bursts of noise in the dark than in the light.
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alexander shackman, associate professor of neuroscience and cognitive science at the university of maryland, explains an increase in jumpiness can be taken as an indication of anxiety or apprehension.
“they’re not just non-specifically more aroused, or they’re thinking harder, or it’s more cognitively challenging but, rather, it’s more consistent with the idea that they really are in a negative mood state,” he says. “there’s a large evidence base in humans, in rodents, and even in monkeys, demonstrating that the strength of that [startle] reflex … is pretty sensitive to how much of a negative mood you’re feeling or how anxious or apprehensive you are.”
while anxiety or stress is not a fun experience, in moderate doses it can be quite useful, psychiatrists isaac m. marks and randolph m. nesse wrote in an evolutionary analysis of anxiety disorders. general anxiety, like that which many experience in the dark, occurs when there is a threat to resources that guarantee our reproductive success, for example, physical health, relationships, property, status, reputation or skill. this arousal boosts our vigilance and physical ability, which is useful if you need to protect your territory or make a break for the door in an allegedly haunted theatre.
interestingly, the intensity of the participant’s reaction in the yale study did not correlate with how much anxiety the participants reported experiencing during the dark phase of the experiment. it did, however, seem to increase in those participants who reported they had a fear of the dark as children. for some adults, at least, this anxiety runs deeper than just a general discomfort in an unfamiliar laboratory.
meanwhile, back in the theatre…
the group takes the ornate, antique elevators to the winter garden theatre. this second theatre, sitting seven stories above the better-known elgin, was designed as a première vaudeville venue. now rarely used for performances, in its heyday the winter garden catered to wealthy patrons who could reserve seats in a lushly decorated enchanted forest.
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the spectators file into the wooden seats, bathed in light from the colourful lanterns hanging from branches that cascade from the ceiling. pillars, disguised to look like tree trunks, complete the countryside motif, while murals on the ceiling depict a starry night sky. slowly the lights dim, and the colours fade to grey shapes; corners and seats disappearing in the dark. a few emergency exit lights cast shadows, made sinister by the red hue of the lights.
a woman with short, curly hair to the edge of one of the aisles shivers, and begins looking around the room, her head swivelling back and forth.
“do you feel something?” the guide asks, walking over to the row of seats.
“i did, and i don’t feel good,” the woman replied. she fell silent, declining to say anything more.
“i love that moment, especially because it’s such an unexpected space,” macdonald later says about the moment the lights go out. “the moment where we are able to turn this beautiful, sparkling fairy garden into this shadowy darkness full of small rustlings and unexpected sounds. you do feel it — you feel it instantly.”
humans are not designed to thrive in the dark, likely why anxiety can spike in poorly lit settings. our senses can adapt, but it takes time. eyesight can take up to 45 minutes to achieve 80 per cent of our night vision abilities, and several hours to completely adjust, according to cooper vision. while hearing may also improve in low light conditions, it takes even more time to adjust. (six to eight days, according to research from the university of maryland.)
and regardless of how we adapt, we are simply not as good as other predators that have evolved to hunt at night. humans are outmatched, a fact that could mean life or death to pre-modern man.
so while a fear of the dark often reserved for children, an appreciation for just how troublesome the dark can be is a trait hard-won over generations.
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“i would consider a fear of the dark to be an example of something that we call a prepared fear — a fear that we are predisposed to develop more easily than other fears,” says martin antony, chair of the department of psychology at toronto metropolitan university and author of the anti-anxiety program. “it’s probably through natural selection. situations that would have been dangerous to our prehistoric ancestors are situations that we develop [fears to].”
generations of learning the threats the dark can possess may predispose humanity to be more anxious when the lights go out, antony continues. electrical sockets are also potentially dangerous, but do not have the benefit of impacting human evolution for thousands of years. in modern times, a phobia of electrical sockets would be considered unusual, while fear of the dark is common — and an expected phase in child development.
even in the city, where non-human, nocturnal predators (animals or otherwise) can be considered an unusual sight, this understanding that we are inherently vulnerable at night stays with us. it is so well-ingrained, in fact, that one of the most beautiful theatres in the country takes on an eerie tone when the lights go out. shadows envelop the boxed seats, and the depth of the large rooms merge into ominous holes.
at various times throughout the evening, the visitors claim to see flashes of light or shadows that were not there before or hearing movement behind closed doors. but were they seeing something that existed outside of themselves, or were they just becoming easily startled, reacting to anything that could be perceived as a threat?
in the paranormal investigation community, there is an idea that when we are vulnerable, we are more likely to experience something paranormal, macdonald explains. opening yourself up to experiences outside of our comfort zones, it’s hypothesized, can in fact make it easier for the supernatural to make contact.
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“i do think there is something about making yourself more vulnerable that allows for better communication,” she says. “that’s true in your everyday real life — if you open yourself and allow your vulnerability to be front and centre, your communication and understanding of others gets better. i think it’s the same with whatever is trying to communicate with us through these ghostly or paranormal experiences.”
emma jones is a multimedia editor with healthing. you can reach her at emjones@postmedia.com or on instagram and twitter @jonesyjourn.
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