And once, only once, he had dreamed of being violently attacked.
In his early teens Philip began to work on a paper round. On his first day, he was shown a list of the houses and streets to which he had to deliver. Out of the blur of house names and streets jumped ‘Ellenthorpe’: it seemed very familiar to him.
‘Ellenthorpe’, he soon discovered, was the name of a large house. It had formerly had a long drive leading up to it; a drive which survived as a rather isolated cul-de-sac called Little Red Lane.
Philip’s first view of ‘Ellenthorpe’ confirmed immediately that it was a house he recalled from his vivid dreams. And something about the lane leading to it unnerved him; he always ran down it as quickly as possible.
He had mentioned this discovery of ‘Ellenthorpe’ to his parents but, wishing to prise him free of his attachment to the past, they urged him to ignore both the house and the rest of the dreams. They encouraged him to treat it as a fantasy of some kind. With their scepticism and with his growing older and becoming far more involved in his present life, Philip pushed the house and his dreams to the back of his mind. Eventually, in his late teens, the dreams faded.
But the memory did not. Some years later, with queries concerning that life again nagging at the edge of his mind, he took advantage of a period between jobs to make a concerted effort to search into the history of ‘Ellenthorpe’ and its immediate environs. He sought any historical evidence which might support the events of his dreams and began to speak to all long-term residents of the area in the hope that he might learn sufficient to draw up a picture of everyone who had formerly lived there.
It was during an interview with a local woman that the key to his search came. Her husband appeared and, without any preamble, abruptly said, ‘Lad, did you know there was a murder on the driveway to this house?’
Philip suddenly shivered.
‘Don’t tell me,’ he quickly replied. ‘It was a young woman, slim, with light brown hair up in a bun, in her twenties. And she wouldn’t have had two sisters younger than her, would she?’
The neighbour looked at him strangely.
‘How did you know all this?’ he demanded, suddenly curious about his young visitor.
Philip was circumspect but gained his confidence. He was told that the murdered girl’s name was Lilian Bland, from a local family. Philip. was also put in touch with the local historical group and through their contacts was introduced to a researcher who had made a study of the Bland family history.
Philip later recalled
I felt I could trust him, and so told him about my memories, and that I felt I could be Lilian Bland reincarnated. He didn’t laugh or dismiss me. He simply said, ‘It’s a possibility’. I said I always felt she was buried locally, but I didn’t know where. He smiled. ‘It’s 200 yards away. I know where she is, and I know where her boyfriend’s grave is too.’ Then he said, ‘If you come tomorrow to my house, I’ve got something for you.’
The next day he handed Philip an old newspaper cutting. It was dated 9 January 1914.
The headline was, ‘ECCLESHILL TRAGEDY. PRETTY GIRL MURDERED’. It added, ‘Her assailant commits suicide. Desperate shooting affray in Little Red Lane.’10
According to the report, on 2 January 1914 the owner of ‘Ellenthorpe’ stated that he was out walking his dog when he heard a woman screaming for help. Quickly afterwards he heard several revolver shots. Running towards the scene he saw a woman lying on the ground, apparently lifeless. A man was standing over her. Then, according to this same witness, the apparent assailant shot himself. The dead woman was Lilian Bland; the man was a former boyfriend, recently returned from America.
The circumstances of the case were suspicious and the subsequent investigation hinged upon the statements made by the only witness to the shooting, the owner of ‘Ellenthorpe’. The police naturally concluded that the former boyfriend was the murderer. But, even at the time, certain points of evidence seemed odd. While Lilian’s boyfriend had owned a gun, the murder weapon was not this. A half-opened and bloodied razor was found nearby. There was evidence that a struggle had occurred. Yet the two young former lovers seemed very close; witnesses reported that earlier the same evening they had been talking and laughing together. There seemed no apparent reason for the evening to end in murder.
Curious, Philip obtained reports of the case. These convinced him that another person was involved; perhaps he was a rival for Lilian’s affections. Perhaps too he had resided at ‘Ellenthorpe’. In any case, he had subsequently escaped justice. But, despite his research, Philip failed to discover the true events of that day, either from the reports or from his own residual memories of his life as the murdered Lilian.
I believe the murder had been blocked out of her mind to protect me in this existence, because if I could remember such horrific things, it would have affected me now. The pain of the murder was there, but the actual memories were blocked out.11
Is this story an example of some memory of a previous life, so strong that it forced its way out through dreams and half-conscious feelings despite the scepticism with which our society views such claims? Philip Corrigan, at least, had no such doubts as to its literal reality.
A Search for Scientific Proof
The Western tradition of science (often curiously distinct from the private beliefs of individuals, which might be anything but rational) always seeks proof of any assertion concerning reality: whether of the temperature at which water boils or whether humanity experiences a succession of lives. The scientific method passes no judgement on the importance of the assertion to be proven: all assertions are treated equally. This method requires that any evidence put forward in support of reincarnation must obey certain rules.
First and foremost, this evidence should be accurately recorded by witnesses themselves free from any bias or hidden motive. Second, this information should be verifiable. That is, it should contain facts which can be checked from independent sources.
Unfortunately, as the reader will now be aware, there is a third, unspoken but implicit rule: no new discovery should deviate from what is already ‘known’ to be true. Of course, this is not science, it is prejudice; but it means that those trying to investigate reincarnation are up against not only science but belief. It makes their task a difficult one.
Without falling into the trap of prejudice we must avoid falling into the morass of the gullible; we must use the principles of science to seek confirmation of the reality of reincarnation. If, for example, someone should claim a memory of a life spent in London 300 years ago, then we should want to be able to draw, from their statements, a list of facts which could then directly be checked in historical archives. We should want addresses, names of family and friends, events of the time with identified actions and principal figures. Importantly, we should want intimate details, some facts difficult to find in anything but the most highly specialized archives but which would be second nature to someone truly living at that time.
Furthermore we should want to be certain that any person claiming memories of a past life could not have chanced upon the information in any other way. We need to be certain that the information given is free from contamination, either deliberate or unconscious.
In the late 1950s a psychiatrist, Dr Ian Stevenson of the Medical School in Charlottesville, Virginia, sought some answers to the question of past-life recall. He began to study reports of reincarnation using a systematic scientific procedure. Even his critics were impressed by his carefully controlled methods and realized that any criticism of his controversial discoveries would have to follow an equally rigorous method.12
The results of Dr Stevenson’s initial investigations were published in the United States in 1960, in England a year later. He had looked closely at hundreds of cases where a memory of previous incarnations was claimed. By testing these examples against his scientific criteria, he reduced the number of acceptable cases to just twenty-eight. But these shared a number of strong features in co
mmon: all the subjects could remember being specific people living in specific places long before their own birth. Furthermore, the facts which they presented could be subjected to direct verification or rejection by independent research.
One case he reported concerned a young Japanese boy who, from a very early age, had consistently claimed that he had previously been a boy called Tozo, whose father, a farmer, had lived in a village called Hodokubo.
The young boy explained that in his previous life, when he – as Tozo – had still been young, his father had died; shortly thereafter his mother had remarried. But, only a year after this marriage, Tozo too died, of smallpox. He was aged only six. In addition to this information, the young boy gave detailed descriptions of the house Tozo lived in, the appearance of his parents and even the events of his funeral. On the face of it, it seemed as though a real memory of a past life was being recalled.
To test his statements, the young boy was taken to the village of Hodokubo. It was found that his former parents and other people he had identified had certainly lived there in the past. Furthermore he was clearly familiar with the village, which he had never before visited. Without any help, he took his companions to his former home. Once there he drew their attention to a shop which, he said, had not been in existence during his previous life. Similarly, he pointed out a tree unknown to him and which had evidently since grown. Investigation quickly proved that both these assertions were true. In all, his testimony prior to the visit to Hodokubo provided sixteen definite and specific statements which could be checked. When checked, they all proved correct.13
In his work Dr Stevenson stressed in particular his high regard for the testimony of young children. He considered that not only are they far less susceptible to conscious or unconscious deception but they are unlikely to have read about, or heard about, the events in the past which they describe.
Stevenson continued his research and in 1966 published the first edition of his influential book, Twenty Cases Suggestive of Reincarnation. By this time he had personally studied almost 600 cases which seemed best explained by reincarnation. Eight years later he published a second edition of this book; by that time the case studies had doubled to around 1,200. Among these he had found some which, as he explained, ‘do much more than suggest reincarnation; they seem to furnish considerable evidence for it’.14
The Case of Imad Elawar
Dr Stevenson heard of a case of past-life recall in a young man, Imad Elawar, living in a small village in the Druze area of Lebanon. The Druze, while considered to be within the Islamic orbit, in fact have a great number of very distinctive beliefs, one of which is reincarnation. There are, perhaps as a result of this acceptance, many cases of past-life recall amongst the Druze community.
Before Imad had reached two years old he had begun talking of a previous life which he had spent in another village, also Druze, called Khriby, where he claimed to have been a member of the Bouhamzy family. He had often pleaded with his parents to take him there. But his father refused and accused him of lying. The young boy soon learned to avoid the subject in his father’s presence.
Imad had made a number of statements about his previous life: he mentioned a beautiful woman called Jamileh, whom he was much in love with. He spoke of his life in Khriby, his enjoyment of hunting with his dog, his double-barrelled shotgun and his rifle which, being illegal, he had to hide. He described owning a small yellow car and sharing the use of other vehicles which belonged to his family. He also mentioned witnessing an accident where a lorry ran over a cousin causing such injuries that he soon died. When finally investigated, all these statements were to prove accurate.
In spring 1964 Dr Stevenson made the first of several trips to this mountainous region to interview the young Imad, who was aged five at the time.15
Prior to any visit to the village, Imad had made a total of forty-seven definite statements concerning his previous life.16 Dr Stevenson wished to check the accuracy of each himself and so was determined to take Imad to the village of Khriby as soon as he could. Within a few days it proved possible; together they set off on the twenty-five-mile journey along a rarely travelled road which twisted back and forth through the mountains. Like much of the interior of Lebanon, while both villages had good links with the capital, Beirut, on the coast, there was no regular traffic on the difficult cross-country route between them.
Once in the village Imad made sixteen further statements of recognition: he proved vague on one, wrong on another but correct on the remaining fourteen. And, of these correct statements, twelve concerned very personal incidents or comments on his previous life. It is highly unlikely that this information could have come from any other source than from within the family.
Although Imad had never given the Christian name he used in his previous life, the only figure in the Bouhamzy family who matched – and did so exactly – the information was one son, Ibraham, who had died of tuberculosis in September 1949. He had been a close friend of a cousin who died in a lorry accident in 1943. He also loved a beautiful woman called Jamileh who had moved away from the village after his death.17
While in the village Imad recalled further specific details of his previous life as a member of the Bouhamzy family, which were impressive in both their domestic nature and their accuracy. He correctly pointed out, for example, where ‘he’, as Ibraham Bouhamzy, had kept his dog and how it was tethered. Neither of these had been an obvious answer. He also correctly identified ‘his’ bed and described how it had been arranged differently in the past. He revealed too where Ibraham kept his gun. Crucially, he also independently recognized and correctly named Ibraham’s sister, Huda. Similarly he recognized and named a brother when shown a photographic portrait.
A convincing exchange occurred with ‘his’ sister Huda. She asked of Imad, ‘You said something just before you died. What was it?’ Imad replied, ‘Huda, call Fuad.’ This was correct because Fuad had left shortly before and Ibraham wanted to see him again, but died immediately.18
Without direct, secret, collusion between the young Imad and the elderly Huda Bouhamzy – which seems almost impossible given Dr Stevenson’s close attention to the case – there is no conceivable way that Imad could have known these final words of the dying man except for one: that Imad truly was the reincarnation of the dead Ibraham Bouhamzy.
In fact, the case is stronger: out of the forty-seven statements about his past life which Imad had made, only three were proved wrong. Evidence such as this is hard to dismiss.
It might be objected that this incident occurred in a society which believed in reincarnation and so might be expected to encourage any youthful fantasy in this direction. Realizing this, Dr Stevenson reports an intriguing point he has noted: memories of past lives occur not only in cultures in which reincarnation is accepted but also in those where it is not – or, at least, not officially. He has, for example, investigated some thirty-five cases in the United States; there are others in Canada and the United Kingdom. And, as he points out, cases also occur in India amongst Muslim families who have never accepted reincarnation.
It hardly seems necessary to emphasize that this research has rather important implications for the scientific and medical understanding of life. Yet, however obvious this statement is, it will be hotly denied in many quarters. Reincarnation poses a direct challenge to modern assumptions of what it means to be human; assumptions excluding anything which cannot be weighed, measured, dissected or isolated in a Petri dish or microscope slide. In common with many modern assumptions which we have already looked at, these too can be maintained only by ignoring, suppressing or marginalizing the contrary evidence, however sound its source. Dr Stevenson once said to the television producer Jeffrey Iverson that
Science should pay a lot more attention to the evidence we have pointing towards life after death. Looked at fairly, the evidence is impressive and from a variety of sources. The prevailing orthodoxy is when your brain dies your mind perishes also. That is so deeply
believed that scientists fail to understand it is an assumption only and there is no reason why aspects of the mind should not survive death of the brain.19
In the West reincarnation has not formed any part of our official cultural belief systems since the demise of the Druids perhaps 2,000 years ago. Any brief experience of this type is dismissed as one of déjà vu, fantasy or wish-fulfilment. But, as we have seen in the case of Philip Corrigan, experiences coming through dreams can be so real that the subject can have no doubt whatever that they derive from a previous life. Philip Corrigan’s parents dismissed them, yet this did nothing to alter his belief. And, as we have also seen, his subsequent investigation gave support to his position.
Given the basic Christian and scientific beliefs underpinning Western culture, it comes as something of a surprise to discover that belief in reincarnation is more widespread than one would imagine.
In February 1969 a poll carried out in twelve North American and European countries by the Gallup organization found that a surprisingly high percentage of the population declared a firm belief in the reality of reincarnation. In the United States 20 per cent admitted holding this belief; in Germany 25 per cent, in France 23 per cent, in the United Kingdom 18 per cent.
Ten years later, a further poll by the same organization in the United Kingdom showed an increase to 28 per cent in the number of people who accepted the truth of reincarnation. In 1981 a similar poll carried out in the United States disclosed an increase to 23 per cent in those adults professing such a belief. This suggests that a staggering 38 million Americans believe that they have lived before.20