In the ’70s, scientists had a séance with a made-up ghost. They were shocked when it ‘talked’ back.

In the 1970s, the ghost of Philip Aylseford, Lord of Diddington Manor, made himself known. The heartbroken and grief-stricken spirit answered questions about his former life by knocking on a table—once for “yes” and twice for “no”—and even sliding it around the room. The only problem is: Philip was completely made up. In 1972, mathematician Dr. A.R.G. Owen teamed up with psychologist Dr. Joel Whitton to see if collective consciousness and human will could create paranormal phenomena. In particular, they wondered whether these elements could conjure an apparition (a ghost becoming visible). The two doctors recruited eight participants: a heating engineer, several engineering students, an accountant, and a bookkeeper. Once assembled, this technically minded cohort began carving out a backstory for Philip, which they would then memorize in every detail. The tragic, made-up tale of Philip Aylseford Depiction of Diddington Manor. Photo credit: Canva They decided he was an aristocrat, born in England in 1624, a Catholic, and a close friend of Charles II, for whom he became a spy. Philip was, sadly, in a loveless marriage with a woman named Dorothea, the eldest daughter of a wealthy land baron. They lived together at Philip’s family estate, Diddington Manor. Philip secretly carried out an affair with a Romani woman named Margo. When Dorethea found out, she accused Margo of witchcraft. To make matters worse, Philip did nothing to defend Margo to protect his own reputation. She went to trial, was found guilty, and burned at the stake. Upon hearing the news, Philip jumped from the top of Diddington Manor, ending his fictional life at 30 years old. The classically tragic backstory was done; now it was time to try to communicate with poor dear Philip. A séance. Photo credit: Canva In the first year, the group held weekly non-traditional séances in a well-lit room without a medium. During these informal “sittings,” the group would discuss Philip’s escapades while attempting to visualize their “collective hallucination” in more detail. While some occasionally felt a presence, Philip gave no real evidence of his existence. Then the group opted for a different strategy: recreating standard Victorian spiritualist fanfare. They dimmed the lights, sang songs from the 1600s that Philip might recognize, and surrounded themselves with period objects and sketches of what they imagined Philip’s home looked like. This time, it “worked.” Philip made a knocking sound on the table. Soon, the group used this knocking mechanism to get Philip to answer questions. Apparently, he quickly knocked once when asked if he liked alcohol. When asked if he loved Dorothea, he knocked twice. In subsequent sessions, the “spirit” of Philip even seemed to exhibit a personality, as shown by how enthusiastic or hesitant his knocking was. Eventually, he slid the table from side to side, made it vibrate, and made it “dance” on one leg. Not bad for the ghost of someone who never even existed. However, Philip did have his limitations—which, conveniently, seemed to match the limitations of those who communicated with him. He could only answer questions accurately about his own life and time period, which the group already knew (since…again, they’re the ones who made it up). This implied the group’s subconscious shaped the responses. Still, some participants noted hearing whispers. It’s worth noting that Owen and Whitton’s group never did manage to get Philip to apparate. What we really learned from the Philip Experiment In the following years, the experiment would expand to other fictional ghosts—Lilith, Sebastian, Skippy, Axel, and Humphrey—each of whom yielded similar results but were ultimately deemed inconclusive. And while the Philip experiment would become the subject of a 1974 documentary and influence horror films like The Apparition (2012) and The Quiet Ones (2014), the novelty did eventually wear off, and, much like a ghost, Philip faded into obscurity. Still, Owen seemed to believe the experiment proved his theory about the power of the human mind. In a 1977 publication of The Journal of Borderland Research, he wrote: “Although members of the group speak directly to Philip and more or less treat him as a real person, he’s actually just an imaginary device for focusing the group’s mental energy. This focused energy generates what we believe are legitimate and repeatable examples of psychokinesis – or moving matter with the mind.” Other skeptics have attributed Philip’s supernatural ability to the ideomotor effect. This is where the brain subconsciously triggers the muscles to move. It’s the same mechanism that could explain how an Ouija board seems to move on its own. Or…there’s the theory that those folks actually did contact the other side. And that entity may or may not have just been assuming the role of Philip. If nothing else, our dear, troubled Philip did indeed prove that the human mind has the power to create experiences that feel remarkably real, even when the story behind them is entirely imagined.