I’ve been known to shriek when my dog barks. In my defense, he’s 14lbs and produces- only a slight exaggeration- the volume of a fighter jet fucking a t-rex.
Some people have a medical-grade startle. And by some people, I mean nineteenth century French Canadian lumberjacks.
Today’s Moment of Science… the Jumping Frenchmen of Maine.
The startle response is part of the nervous system’s way of rapidly handling potentially threatening stimuli with one goal: keeping your sluggish tuchus alive. On the ‘evolutionary advantage’ scale, the ability to experience a jumpscare rates a solid 17/10 because pretty much everything with a face can be startled. This reflex sometimes means dramatically throwing hot coffee on yourself because there was a noise in the kitchen and your brainstem took the wheel. But hey, at least your (so-called) lizard brain saved you from the whirring blender down the hall.
There’s a normal range of responses to being startled. Then there’s knife throwing on command.
George Miller Beard was born in Connecticut in 1839. He served as an assistant surgeon in the US Navy during the US Civil War before a colorful career in neurology. He was a dyed in the wool skeptic, rejecting religion and the antics of spirituality. He spent his free time debunking psychics and other supernatural charlatans, publishing analysis on the failure of spiritualism to prove itself scientifically.
In 1878, he heard about a bunch of lumberjacks in Maine exhibiting odd behaviors. Likely figuring it would either be a new disorder to document or the latest spiritual fraud to embarrass, he packed his bags and headed north. His observations included fifty cases in the Moosehead Lake area of Maine. Fourteen of the afflicted men were from members of four families. In one additional family, there were five cases through three generations.
With even a mild startle, this group of French Canadians experienced an “uncontrollable” jump, flailing, screaming, swearing, hitting, or throwing things.
Then the symptoms get downright fucking weird.
After being startled, the jumpers (as they came to be known) were highly prone to suggestions. Startle one of them with a sudden demand like, say, slapping a loved one? They’re on it, no questions asked. If they were shouted at to “throw it,” whether holding a ball, an axe, or a newborn baby, they were goddamn throwing it. They seemed to follow any command they were given immediately, reflexively. They would parrot what people said back to them, sometimes even in languages they didn’t speak. Jumpers also mimicked movements.
This reportedly led to cruel pranks on the afflicted. Because in the age before the potato cannon, yelling at a mentally ill person to jump into a river (or a fire, whatever) was what passed for entertainment in northern Maine.
So how did Dr. Beard sort the whole thing out? He didn’t. He recorded his observations, and concluded that the lumberjacks’ bizarre reactions seemed reflexive, like they weren’t being faked. The skeptic with a medical degree didn’t think they were fucking with him.
There are a few possible explanations that have been kicked around through the years. Given the small number of families involved, it’s possible that this had a genetic component. Dr. Gilles de la Tourette proposed that it was related to his namesake syndrome. Though there are similarities, this explanation is generally rejected. It has stronger similarities to other rare startle disorders, including latah and hyperekplexia.
According to research done in the late twentieth century on a small handful of people diagnosed with the disorder at the time, a mass psychogenic illness is a strong contender. Sometimes referred to as mass hysteria, this doesn’t mean the symptoms aren’t really being experienced, but it does mean there’s little or no underlying physical cause.
A few lumberjacks may have had jumpy reactions to start with. A bit of attention for their relatively normal startle reflex provoked bigger, more extreme responses without the men doing it consciously. Before you know it, a whole condition developed to help alleviate boredom of the repetitive and physically demanding daily life of a work camp.
This has been your Moment of Science, suggesting you mind your surroundings when you hear someone yell “throw it!”
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