Ypsilanti is famous for a few things. It’s where Domino’s Pizza was born. It’s where Iggy Pop grew up. It’s where the “Paul is dead” rumor got started. And, it’s where, in the 1950’s a psychologist by the name of Milton Rokeach made history by forcing three mental patients at the Ypsilanti State Hospital, each living under the delusion that he was Jesus Christ, to live with each other, in hopes that one or more of them might be shocked back to sanity. It’s one of those things you learn about in psychology class, right along with the Milgram experiment, and other things you’re not supposed to do. The hospital is now, for the most part, gone, but the story lives on via the book, The Three Christs of Ypsilanti, which was written by Dr. Rokeach, and published in 1964… The book, which I haven’t read in years, is mentioned today on Slate. Here’s a clip:
…Frustrated by psychology’s focus on what he considered to be peripheral beliefs, like political opinions and social attitudes, Rokeach wanted to probe the limits of identity. He had been intrigued by stories of Secret Service agents who felt they had lost contact with their original identities, and wondered if a man’s sense of self might be challenged in a controlled setting. Unusually for a psychologist, he found his answer in the Bible. There is only one Son of God, says the good book, so anyone who believed himself to be Jesus would suffer a psychological affront by the very existence of another like him. This was the revelation that led Rokeach to orchestrate his meeting of the Messiahs and document their encounter in the extraordinary (and out-of-print) book from 1964, The Three Christs of Ypsilanti…
(T)he book makes for starkly uncomfortable reading as it recounts how the researchers blithely and unethically manipulated the lives of Leon, Joseph, and Clyde in the service of academic curiosity. In one of the most bizarre sections, the researchers begin colluding with the men’s delusions in a deceptive attempt to change their beliefs from within their own frame of reference. The youngest patient, Leon, starts receiving letters from the character he believes to be his wife, “Madame Yeti Woman,” in which she professes her love and suggests minor changes to his routine. Then Joseph, a French Canadian native, starts receiving faked letters from the hospital boss advising certain changes in routine that might benefit his recovery. Despite an initially engaging correspondence, both the delusional spouse and the illusory boss begin to challenge the Christs’ beliefs more than is comfortable, and contact is quickly broken off…
I know it’s probably a small point, but I’m curious as to how these letters were addressed, given that there were three men answering to the name of Jesus Christ. Maybe they didn’t pick up on it, but I think it would have crossed my mind, when the doctor handed me one letter addressed to Christ, and another to someone else, that there was some manipulation going on.
If I were an academic, I’d be staying up late tonight, writing about how Rokeach was essentially the first reality television producer – all-be-it for a very small audience – and how everything since MTV’s Real World owes him a debt of gratitude. As I’m not, though, I’m going to bed.
And, for what it’s worth, I call the band name Madame Yeti Woman.
[I’d like to thank a reader by the name of Marc Kawecki for the heads-up on the Slate article.]
