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 Paranormal Tourism in Edinburgh
Storytelling, Appropriating Ghost Culture and Presenting an Uncanny
Heritage

Elizabeth Holzhauser

This thesis is submitted in partial fulfilment for the degree of PhD at the University of St
Andrews

Date of Submission

3 February 2015
 DECLARATIONS

1. Candidate’s declarations:

I, Elizabeth Holzhauser, hereby certify that this thesis, which is approximately 78,000
words in length, has been written by me, and that it is the record of work carried out by me, or
principally by myself in collaboration with others as acknowledged, and that it has not been
submitted in any previous application for a higher degree.

I was admitted as a research student in September 2009 and as a candidate for the degree
of PhD in September 2009; the higher study for which this is a record was carried out in the
University of St Andrews between 2009 and 2014.

Date ___________

Signature of Candidate ______________________________________

2. Supervisor’s declaration:

I hereby certify that the candidate has fulfilled the conditions of the Resolution and
Regulations appropriate for the degree of PhD in the University of St Andrews and that the
candidate is qualified to submit this thesis in application for that degree.

Date ___________

Signature of Supervisor _______________________________________

3. Permission for publication: (to be signed by both candidate and supervisor)

In submitting this thesis to the University of St Andrews I understand that I am giving

permission for it to be made available for use in accordance with the regulations of the
University Library for the time being in force, subject to any copyright vested in the work not
1
being affected thereby. I also understand that the title and the abstract will be published, and that
a copy of the work may be made and supplied to any bona fide library or research worker, that
my thesis will be electronically accessible for personal or research use unless exempt by award
of an embargo as requested below, and that the library has the right to migrate my thesis into new
electronic forms as required to ensure continued access to the thesis. I have obtained any third-
party copyright permissions that may be required in order to allow such access and migration, or
have requested the appropriate embargo below.

The following is an agreed request by candidate and supervisor regarding the publication
of this thesis:

Access to printed copy and electronic publication of thesis through the University of St
Andrews.

Date ___________

Signature of Candidate ____________________________

Date ____________

Signature of Supervisor ____________________________

2
 ABSTRACT

The paranormal industry in Edinburgh has become a thriving niche within the country’s

tourist market. While ghost walks have been explored in anthropology from the perspective of

spectacle, this thesis investigates and analyses the cultural framework which has furthered the

success of the industry. Namely, the ways in which the paranormal industry have appropriated

the beliefs and practices of an overarching ghost culture: a community of believers, investigators,

mediums, and all those who actively attempt to engage with the paranormal.

The increased visibility of the paranormal within popular culture has spurred a wide

interest in the unknown and unexplained. Ghost hunting television shows and the prevalence of

ghost stories has inspired the desire for unique experiences, and for audiences to contextualise

the supernatural within their own lives. The paranormal industry has grown to accommodate this

intense, active enthusiasm for all things spectral, and belief has become a commodity.

This burgeoning fascination in ghosts has become an important aspect of how Scotland is

sold as a destination. While commercial paranormal industries exist in other cities around the

world, the historical perception of Scotland as other has created a precedence for the connection

between Scottish national identity and the spectral. This thesis further investigates the ways in

which the tourist industry continues to solidify the connection between Scottish heritage and the

paranormal.

3
 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I have so many people to thank for making this dissertation possible. First and foremost, I

wanted to thank the very kind and lovely people in the University of St Andrews Social

Anthropology department for their encouragement. What an amazing experience it was to have

so much support from students and staff, who challenged me to think through my thesis

questions and objectives, and who recommended readings to inspire me. I would especially like

to thank my supervisor, Stan Frankland, who has infinite patience. He has been invaluable during

this process, with an insight into tourism and anthropology that is absolutely unparalleled. I

could not be more grateful for his understanding and kindness over the years, during some of the

most joyful and incredibly difficult times in my life. Thank you, thank you so much, for

everything.

I am indebted to the Scotland Saltire Scholarship programme for taking a chance on this

research and helping me fund its initial months. It was difficult to move from the United States to

Scotland to attend university, and the award I received inspired me and made me realise that this

project was worth pursuing and taking the time to write about.

To everyone who contributed to this research, namely the kind people at Mercat Tours,

City of the Dead Tours, Auld Reekie Tours, Mary King’s Close as well as Chris, Douglas, Mary,

Lenore, Danny, Ben, the patient folks I messaged at r/Paranormal, the Urbex forums, the

Spiritualist church, and everyone else within the paranormal community who spoke with me to

inspire this thesis: this work is for you. I hope I got everything right.

4
 In my personal life, I would like to thank my mother, who helped me through the final

stages of this thesis with her wisdom, support, and guidance. And my husband, for hugging me

when I accomplished each chapter, and for hugging me again when things got difficult. I love

you.

5
CONTENTS

LIST OF FIGURES 10

INTRODUCTION 11
A On Scottish Tourism and the Growth of Ghost Culture
B Spiritualism, the Uncanny, and Ghost Belief in Edinburgh’s 14
Tourism Industry
C Research Objective 17
D Thesis Inspiration Through Literature and Popular Culture 20
E About the Edinburgh Vaults: A Representative Microcosm of the 23
Commercial Paranormal Industry
F Fieldwork: Ghost Hunting, Walks, and Medium Readings 25
G Fieldwork Complications 27
H Chapter Outlines 29

CHAPTER 1: 34
Ghosts in Scotland: Tourism History, the Scottish Brand, Victorian
Spiritualism, and the Commercialisation of the Supernatural
1.1 The Start of Tourism and the Scottish Brand 38
1.2 The Historical Representation of Ghosts Through Literature and Media 43
1.3 The Start of the Ghost Hunt and the Commercial Exploitation 49
Of the Supernatural
1.4 The Rise of Victorian Spiritualism and Ghosts in Mainstream Culture 52
1.5 The Clash Between Spiritualist and Scientific Communities 54
1.6 The Phonograph: Recording Spirit Voices on the Other Side 59

6
1.7 Spirit Photography: The Photograph as Evidence of Spirits 62
1.8 Conclusion 66

CHAPTER 2: 68
Walking Tours: The Ghost Space, Tour Structure and Storytelling,
Themes and Symbols
2.1 Assembling the Ghostly Landscape: The Nature of the “Ghost Space” 70
2.2 Tour Structure, Isolation, and the Benefit of Darkness 76
2.3 Ghost Tour Terminology, Ghost Types, and the Incorporation of the 85
Ghost Hunt for the Tourist Experience
2.4 The Ghosts on Edinburgh Tours: Similarities, Themes and Symbols 92
2.4.2 The Story of the Malevolent Spirit: Violence and Danger
In the Safe Tourist Space, the Gendered Nature of Hauntings
2.4.2 The Story of the Mass Death: Suffering, Torture, and Murder 100
2.5 Conclusion 108

CHAPTER 3: 109
The Ghost Tour as Theatre: Setting the Stage, Death as a Spectacle, and Constructing
Authenticity
3.1 Recreating Historical Edinburgh Through Macabre Scenes 112
3.2 The Edinburgh Mob: The Role of the Tourist and the Public 119
Spectacle of Torture Scenes
3.3 The Tourist Experience as a Rite of Passage 122
3.4 Perspectives on Authenticity 126
3.4.1 Discussions of Authenticity and How Paranormal Events
Emphasise Authenticity of Emotion
3.4.2 Subverting Authenticity 131
7
 3.4.3 Hauntings as a Form of Authenticity 133
3.5 The Desequestering of Death 135
3.6 Conclusion 139

CHAPTER 4: 140
The Mediumship: Spirit Communication and Creating a Ghostly Landscape
4.1 Spirit Communication with Lenore: Creating the Emotional Link Between 144
the Living and the Dead
4.2 On Vigils: Their Connection to Ancient Traditions and Sacred Time, 152
Liminal and Liminoid Experiences
4.3 A Vigil with Danny: Creating a Sensory Ghost Space 156
4.4 A Vigil with Mary: Sensory Landscapes, Shamanism, and Spirit Vessels 165
4.5 Conclusion 172

CHAPTER 5: 173
The Commercialisation of Ghost Hunting, and How Tourism Has
Affected Scotland’s Ghost Culture
5.1 Sharing a Space with Tourists: How the Tourist Industry Has Impacted 175
Paranormal Investigation
5.2 Tourism in the Investigatory Space: Ghost Investigations and Ghost Hunting, 182
Comparisons and Methods, Beliefs and Intent
5.3 Similarities in Beliefs and Methods Between Ghost Hunters 184
and Ghost Investigators
5.3.1 The Idea of the “Pure” Space
5.3.2 Ghost Investigation Gear and Perceiving the Ghost Space 186
With the Aid of Technology

8
 5.3.3 The Combination of Science and Myth, Reinterpreting Ghost Stories 191
5.6 A Commercial Investigation with John: Spending a Night in the 194
South Bridge Vaults
5.7 Independent Investigation with Douglas: The Roles of the Team, 202
Sensitives, and Spending a Night in an Abandoned Hospital
5.8 Conclusion 210

CHAPTER 6: 211
Ghosts in Popular Culture: Online Paranormal Communities, and the
Rise of the Televised Ghost Hunt
6.1 My Ghost Story: A Personal Narrative of the Supernatural 214
6.2 Ghost Hunting: The Televised Ghost Hunt and the Changing 226
Role of the Armchair Ghost Hunter
6.3 Conclusion 239

DISCUSSION 240

CONCLUSION 247

APPENDIX A 252

APPENDIX B 253

BIBLIOGRAPHY 255

9
 LIST OF FIGURES

Figure 1: A Photograph of table-tipping. Taken 1898 with medium Eusapia Palladino.

Figure 2: Davenport Bros and Fay: Prof. W.M. Fay’s Dark Séance Advert from the 1850s.

Figure 3: The Medium Eva C. with a Materialisation on Her Head and a Luminous
Apparition Between Her Hands, 1912

Figure 4: Photograph by Sybell Corbet, 1891, believed to have captured the spirit of Lord
Combermere.

Figure 5: Photograph by Frederick Hudson c. 1874, featuring medium Florence Cook in a

trance.

Figure 6: One of the hallways within the vaults capturing an orb.

Figure 7: Another view of the vaults.

10
 INTRODUCTION

On Scottish Tourism and the Growth of Ghost Culture

Tourism is one of Scotland’s biggest industries, with each year seeing a growth in both

domestic and overseas visitors. A report conducted by Deloitte and commissioned by VisitBritain

found that Scottish tourism was worth about £11.6 billion in 2013. Statistics show that most

tourists in Scotland are UK citizens (73%; with 23% being Scottish, and 50% from the rest of the

UK). There are over 292,000 jobs within the industry, equating to 10.9% of all jobs in Scotland.

Deloitte is predicting that tourism could be worth up to £23.1 billion in the next 10 years

(“Tourism Jobs and Growth”, 2013).

Edinburgh’s ghost tours have become a lucrative niche market within Scotland’s travel

industry. While there are no public statistical figures on these tours specifically, their popularity

signifies an important aspect of how Scotland is sold as a destination. The connection between

Scotland and the paranormal has been noted as a trend in VisitScotland’s annual tourism survey;

according to the Paranormal Witness Report, which has recorded over 700 paranormal sightings

over the last 25 years, Edinburgh and Glasgow have been named as the UK’s spookiest cities

(“Trends and Statistics”, 2013). The incorporation of ghosts as a critical aspect of Scottish

heritage has become a key feature of the country’s brand and how it is packaged for the tourist

experience. As Inglis and Homes (2003) state, “Scotland’s heritage is often presented to tourists

today as involving paranormal and ghostly matters, with the presence of spectres from the past

being represented as continuing to haunt its contemporary landscape” (51). The

11
commercialisation of the supernatural has become a burgeoning industry, with a wide range of

events catering to those seeking unique experiences: from tours to ghost hunts to nights with

mediums.

The paranormal industry has only become more successful and varied since the

commencement of my research, with new events and tours emerging on a regular basis. Indeed,

after the submission of this thesis, Scotland will be set to host its first paranormal festival.

Scottish film producer Peter Broughan, the festival’s founder and host, has stated that his goal is

to make Halloween in Scotland as big as Hogmanay. He notes that growing interest in a

supernatural Scotland has created the perfect conditions for such a festival to attract tourists from

around the world:

Scotland has a great history of paranormal culture and mythology, and is associated in the
international public mind with ghosts and myths and legends and all the rest of it, and I
think a lot of people come to Scotland because they are fascinated by the history, and the
castles, but also the supernatural strain that goes right through the centre of Scottish
culture (McIver, 2013).
Broughan’s statement summarises a fundamental argument of this thesis: Scottish culture and its

history have become presented through the lens of the spectral, and the success of its commercial

ghost industry is reflective of an increasing cultural interest in the paranormal.

Growing visibility of the supernatural in mainstream media – which includes books,

television, and websites – mirrors this thriving fascination in the unknown. A recent survey

conducted by OnePoll in 2014 that was commissioned by UKTV’s Watch Channel questioned

2,000 British adults on supernatural phenomena. The results show that people are now more

likely to believe in the paranormal than in a God (55% over 49%). Of the different unexplained

phenomena included in the poll, belief in ghosts was the most widespread and accepted (33%). A

12
quarter (25%) of those claimed they had witnessed something they could not explain, and 16%

were influenced by popular culture, including TV or film (OnePoll, 2014).

These figures point to a consistent, measured increase in paranormal belief for the last six

decades. In the 1950s, only 10% of the British population believed in ghosts. By 1995, that

number had risen to 31% (Gill, Hadaway, and Marler 1998), and by 2008, the number had

reached 40% (ComRes, 2008). One could interpret the statistical results to a rise in religious

belief, but that simply is not the case. Indeed, the British Social Attitudes Survey conducted in

2011 shows that religion is declining within the United Kingdom. The number of those who

describe themselves as non-religious has increased from 31% to 50% in the last 30 years.

Amongst young people between the ages of 18-24, those who identify as religious is just 36%

(British Social Attitudes Survey, 2010). The figures in Scotland are even more drastic. In a 2001

census conducted by the Scottish Household Survey, 65% of Scots considered themselves to be

Christian. By 2008, that that figure had fallen to 57%. In 2009, the proportion of those who

identify as non-religious passed half for the first time (“Declining Faith in Scotland?”, 2011).

While the connection between a decrease in religion in the United Kingdom and an

increase in ghost belief is arguable, these statistics point to a single, vital inference: paranormal

belief transcends religion. The paranormal has an appeal that is all-encompassing; its popularity

on a widespread, international level points to an interest in unexplained phenomena. Fascination

with the paranormal and the growing popularity of ghosts in popular culture has created a

thriving commercial industry in Edinburgh that presents history and ghosts as inextricably

entwined.

13
 While tourists themselves may range between sceptic and believer, the success of

Edinburgh’s commercial paranormal industry is significant. Indeed, there are a number of events

I discuss in this thesis which are specifically tailored for believers – including ones which

encourage tourists to investigate the supernatural using ghost hunting tools to collect evidence of

spectral phenomena. Within this thesis, I will be approaching tourism in Edinburgh (specifically

in the South Bridge Vaults) as a microcosm of a wider, overarching ghost culture. I use the

phrase ghost culture throughout this thesis to refer to a community at large that consists of:

believers; ghost investigators and hunters; Spiritualist mediums and non-Spiritualist mediums.

Their beliefs, scientific tools, and practices have been appropriated by tourism and popular

culture, and have become the various amalgamated aspects of Edinburgh’s commercial industry.1

Spiritualism, the Uncanny, and Ghost Belief in Edinburgh’s Tourism Industry

A primary contextual point in this thesis is a cultural notion of the Scottish uncanny and

otherness, which I discuss from an historical, folkloric and contemporary point throughout. The

notion of Scotland as a country of mystical Celts and spectral landscapes influenced my decision

to specifically conduct my field research here. While ghost tours have become a prominent

tourist draw in cities across the world, Scotland is an exceptional instance in which the

1
At this point, I would like to clarify that while many individuals within ghost culture share similar beliefs, they are
not always in agreement. Spiritualists, for example, have certain different beliefs from non-Spiritualist mediums,
which are also different from ghost investigators. For the sake of brevity, clarity and ease, I have decided to utilize
this term. However, within this thesis, I will use specific terms to address and account for differences in paranormal
philosophies.

14
supernatural has become historically linked with its national identity. The view of Scotland as a

place connected to the uncanny spread outside the country (particularly to England, historically

Scotland’s primary tourist demographic) through fiction that emerged during late 18th and 19th

centuries, which combined Scottish folklore with the Gothic and Romantic aesthetic. Ian Duncan

(2007) notes that the difference between Scottish and English Gothics is particularly apparent in

the way they present otherness; English works concentrated on their ideas of the foreign or

aristocratic other, either from a religious or socio-economic standpoint, while Scottish Gothics

tackled nationality. He further argues that the Scottish Gothic consisted of “an association

between the national and the uncanny or supernatural. . .[it] represents (with greater historical

and anthropological specificity than England) the uncanny recursion of an ancestral identity

alienated from modern life” (188). G. Gregory Smith famously referred to this “combination of

opposites” as the “Caledonian anti-syzygy”, where reality and the uncanny went hand in hand in

a “jostling of contraries” (1919: 4). While I discuss this subject more in depth from an historical

framework in the first chapter of this thesis, I feel it is important to note that the long, firmly

rooted past of the Scottish uncanny is why I chose Scotland – its tourist industry, its ghost

culture, and its folklore – as the focal point of this thesis. This connection between the

supernatural and Scotland as a nation is the basis for its tourist industry and is what separates its

industry from paranormal tours elsewhere in the world.

David Pecard and Michael DiGiovine (2014) note that this sense of nation-identifying

otherness is purposeful from a commercial context. The “touristic Self” is explored through

heritage sites that evoke cultural pasts and the discovery of hidden Selves in a social setting (4).

By using spectres and the supernatural as a tourist draw, companies tap into the human desire for

exploration and for the unknown, as well as further constructing a form of autoethnographic
15
expression, where they represent a site’s history by engaging with the tourist’s preconceived

notions about a place (Pratt, 1992, 2008: 9). This process involves both collaborating with and

appropriating “symbols” of national Scottish identity — in this case, its historic uncanny. The

tour guide plays a part in entwining history with the spectral as tourists move through the

physical space, forming what David Hesse refers to as a sensuous history (2013: 172). The

stories are meant to evoke feelings within one’s body, sensations of fear or adrenaline that may

produce responses associated with ghostly presences, such as hair standing on end, or an

awareness of noises in the dark setting. The tour becomes a journey that encourages a mind/body

connection: the senses with contexts of experience (notions of ghostliness). Both play into a form

of otherness — a Self-Other, in this instance — in which the tourist engages with their own

beliefs surrounding the spiritual realm, either as believer or sceptic (Picard and Di Giovine,

2014: 4). However, I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge the difficulty in exploring what

is, in part, a “feeling-based” subject such as ghost belief, what Diana Espirito Santo and Ruy

Blanes call an “anthropology of intangibles”. Their approach is to discuss these intangibles in

tandem with broader debates on the interrelatedness between the Self and context, the

environment and conceptual experience (2014: 4). This is an approach I have adopted within my

work, as the subject of ghost belief ties into several overarching discussions in this thesis,

particularly with regards to otherness and ideas of authenticity.

In the case of ghost tourism, otherness and notions of authenticity are further constructed

by tourist companies through an ever-changing series of juxtapositions which deliberately evoke

the Caledonian anti-syzygy: the historical site with the present site; life and afterlife; folklore

stories with examples of tourist encounters with spirits. The historic site is firmly linked to the

unknown, unfamiliar or uncanny. Blanes and Espirito Santo note how invisibilities and absences
16
play into the effect of ghost stories by “evoking anxieties, nostalgia and curiosity” and that

“markers of absence paradoxically serve to draw and direct attention to presence, or a longing for

it” (2014: 11). These images draw not only from Scottish folk belief and Gothic fiction2 but from

wider cultural ideas of mysticism, spiritism, and mediumship. Indeed, tour companies

occasionally use mediums in their events to communicate with spirits on behalf of the living. In

doing so, the tour allows for an immediate, personal interaction with the spirit world3, a

connection to the other that is at least partially framed by the Self. Picard and Di Giovine note

that this “Self-Other” relationship involves the articulation between personal experience and

what visitors consume in tourism (2014: 6). Spiritualism and mediumship become a method

through which tours balance commercialism with authenticity. The spirit world becomes

accessible, “real”, and even measurable4 — for a fee.

Research Objective

The original objective of this research was to investigate the structure and storytelling on

Edinburgh’s ghost tours. I sought to explore modern conceptualisations of the supernatural and

how these ideas continue to play a role in the ghost tour industry. Within that focus was a look at

notions of death and spectacle and how both emerged within tour structure, organisation, and

storytelling. To clarify how I came to my original aim: much of the literature I had encountered

on ghost tourism approached the content from a similarly limited viewpoint. Analyses presented

2
notably Sir Walter Scott’s work, which I discuss in chapter 1.
3
Especially in the instance of the first vignette I detail in Chapter 4.
4
Through the use of ghost investigation tools on tours; See: Chapter 5.

17
tour structure as something largely self-contained, which portrayed history and Scottish culture

from a paranormal perspective. In researching tourism during my early fieldwork, I came to

adopt this narrowed outlook. Thus, I initially sought to focus this thesis on the themes presented

within the context of walking tours. Though I continued to explore these topics within my

research, I realised that approaching Edinburgh’s paranormal industry from solely these

objectives would have presented a limited and, frankly, superficial viewpoint of such a vibrant,

expanding industry.

The more time I spent in the field, I came to understand that Edinburgh’s paranormal

tours mirror a larger ghost culture. Exclusively researching walking tours would have ignored the

vital historical connection between Scotland and the supernatural that is the basis for its modern

commercial industry. I also would have neglected the aspects of ghost culture that have made its

industry such a success: the mediumship, ghost hunting, and the prevalence of the paranormal

within popular culture. The latter, especially, has had a tremendous effect on both on Edinburgh’s

ghost culture and its growing tourism numbers. Key haunted locations within the city have been

featured on television shows such as Most Haunted and Ghost Adventures, attracting a number of

visitors seeking the paranormal for themselves.

The paranormal industry presents itself, in part, as an opportunity for tourists to act as

participants rather than spectators. Burgeoning numbers of amateur ghost hunters have sparked

new events in Edinburgh’s tourist industry, including paid-for ghost hunts that are advertised as

an experience “as seen on TV”, séances, and nights spent in famously haunted locales. The

different elements of wider ghost culture that I observed in tours include: the Scottish brand (an

historical entwining of Scottish identity and locations with the paranormal); ghost hunting, which

18
includes both the terminology and tools used on investigations; Spiritualism, by incorporating

mediums and other Spiritualist elements in commercial events; folklore and ritualistic ideas

about spectres, which appear in the structure of events.

Thus, the objective of this research shifted to accommodate my new collected data,

interviews, and observations. To juxtapose my research on walking tours, I sought to explore the

aspects of ghost culture that have become appropriated by the commercial paranormal industry

and packaged for visitor experience. This homogenising of ghost culture elements has had the

dual effect of attracting visitors who are seeking unique experiences, as well as affecting the

ghost culture in such a way that it is becoming increasingly tied with the commercial industry.

While these observations could potentially be made in reference to existing paranormal

industries elsewhere (cities within the United States, especially), Scotland is a special case. The

perception of Scotland as other and the historical projection of the Scottish landscape as being

tied with the mystical Celt have created a precedence for the link between Scottish national

identity, its history and ghosts in contemporary commercial industries. This thesis will also

investigate the ways in which Scottish otherness is further solidified in tours, as well as exploring

the cultural framework for how the paranormal community and industry continues to grow and

attract both curious visitors and believers alike.

19
 Thesis Inspiration Through Literature and Popular Culture

The prominent representation of the paranormal on television captured my attention long

before I began my research. A cursory glance at different networks revealed dozens of shows

created around supernatural themes, from My Ghost Story on the Biography Channel to Ghost

Adventures on the Travel Channel. Each station had their own spin on the genre, portraying ghost

hunts with hand-held cameras, hauntings re-enacted in dramatic fashion, and some that attempt

to prove the existence of spectres using fringe-science. With keen interest, I watched as

participants on these shows detailed their own hauntings, investigated spirit presence, and

conveyed their experiences and theories to the audience. As I commenced preliminary research

on paranormal belief and televised narratives, I noted the distinct lack of anthropological

research on the subject. While the subject of ghosts have been approached from folkloric and

religious perspectives5 (Davies 2007; Blum 2007; Warner 2006; Melechi 2008); from an

historical perspective (Inglis and Holmes 2003; Clarke 2012; Lecouteux 2007); and explored in

storytelling (Smith 2010; Lynch 2004) little research has been done on the contemporary view of

the paranormal as increasingly secular. Now, belief in the paranormal coincides with a cultural

desire for exceptional and unique experiences.

In her book Paranormal Media (2011), Annette Hill argues that people’s beliefs “are a

basis from which market arises in popular culture” (16). Her short work on ghost tourism was the

inspiration for my decision to broaden my research into other areas of the commercial

paranormal industry. Existing literature on the subject of ghost tourism concentrates on the

spectacle involved in walks (Stone 2006; McEvoy 2014; White 2013), which is essential to any

5
By religious, I’m referring to Spiritualism, which continues to have a role in contemporary ghost culture.

20
discussion on tourism and is certainly examined within this thesis. However, exclusively

investigating this viewpoint overlooks the rising trend of commercial events tailored primarily

for believers, such as ghost hunts and medium readings.6 Hill’s research makes the connection

between paranormal tourism and belief in the unexplained: “Extrasensory experiences are

extremely rare, and yet people on a ghost hunting event invest a lot of emotional and

psychological energy in looking for such an experiences” (ibid: 89).

While reading Hill’s work, I recalled a ghost tour I had attended in Philadelphia long

before I commenced this research. Nestled within the city’s tour packages were advertisements

for ghost walks of the old town. Like plenty of Edinburgh’s tourists (and despite being a sceptic,

myself), I thought it would be fun to attend as an hour of entertainment before dinner. The guide

led us by candlelight past Independence Hall, the aged buildings of old town and through

graveyards as she told us stories of spirit sightings within the city. The tour was part

performance, mixed with aspects of folklore and history. As much as I expected entertainment, I

also recognised that what Hill refers to as a disquieting experience – which she defines as an

“emotional geography to an allegedly haunted location” (ibid) – had come over some of the other

tourists. The effect was a combination of certain individuals becoming both increasing silent, as

well as agitated and jumpy at different unidentifiable noises in the dark. Despite the initial

conceit of these tours as fun, the combined effect of storytelling with eerie, dark locations elicits

emotional responses. Such an analysis ought to be included in any discussion of paranormal

tourism because the structure of walks prompts tourists to experience the event through the

context of their own beliefs and experiences.

6
I detail these events in Chapters 4 and 5, respectively.

21
 Hill’s analysis of ghost walks coincides with Avery Gordon’s (1997) argument that

hauntings are, fundamentally, social experiences (201). The relationship between sociality,

tourism, and the emotional effect that arises while visiting certain locations are studied under the

umbrella of dark tourism.7 Sharpley and Stone (2009) note that “dark tourism experiences may

be consumed in order to give some phenomenological meaning to tourists’ own social existence”

(17). However, they place ghost tourism under the label of a paler experience, which they define

as a tour that focuses on communal consumption as play.

While I address the spectacle present in ghost walks within this thesis, I would argue it is

equally important to discuss the cultural frame of reference for why commercial events extend

beyond ghost walks into believer events. Ghost hunts have become increasingly prominent

within the commercial landscape, which are events hosted by professional ghost hunters that

allow tourists to participate in investigations designed after those on prominent television shows.

Any research performed on ghost hunts has approached them largely from the perspective of

investigative techniques (Sabol, 2009; Ruickbie 2013; Fielding and O’Keeffe 2008). This thesis

seeks to fill in these research gaps with fieldwork, as well as discuss the commercial paranormal

industry from a wider cultural perspective.

7
Dark tourism involves visiting sites that are associated with death and tragic events. These locations become
commercialized based on their dark histories. Examples include sites like Chernobyl, Jack the Ripper Tours in
London, Auschwitz concentration camp, etcetera. Some sources (White and Frew, 2013; Sharpley and Stone, 2009)
place ghost walks under the umbrella of dark tourism.

22
 About the Edinburgh Vaults: A Representative Microcosm of the Commercial Paranormal

Industry

The Edinburgh vaults 8 are situated beneath the South Bridge, a structure which links the

high street of Old Town with the Princes Street of New Town. The bridge is over 300 metres

long; it is supported by 22 arches that dig as far down as 6 metres into the bed rock, but only one

of the arches remains visible from the street. Legitimate businesses were once plentiful beneath

the South Bridge, from merchants to cobblers. These businesses used certain vaults for storage

purposes, primarily as a depository for wine and whisky. As the population of Edinburgh grew in

the 17th and 18th centuries, the more impoverished areas of the city expanded past what

tenements could comfortably accommodate. The homeless sought refuge beneath the South

Bridge to escape the rainy, wet conditions on the streets outside. Soon the influx of people into

the vaults pushed out the legitimate businesses, and the location became known as a type of red

light district. Eventually the chambers fell into disrepair and were covered over in rubble,

entirely forgotten until they were re-discovered in the 1980s.

Certain vaults under the South Bridge were later leased to various tour businesses.

Mercat, the first company to operate out of the vaults, claims their intent was to use the location

as an atmospheric place to tell ghost stories and historical anecdotes from the city above.

However, as tourists began to both see and experience ghosts there, the focus of Mercat’s tours

shifted; now they regale visitors with tales of spirits spotted in the vaults. In recent years, Mercat

8
Collectively known as the South Bridge Vaults and split between the Blair Street Vaults and the Niddry Street
Vaults, for their placements under the bridge and the street respectively.

23
has been joined by two other tour companies – City of the Dead Tours, and Auld Reekie Tours –

who conduct their walks through different sets of vaults within the underground.

Today, the vaults are considered to be one of the most haunted places in the UK.

Numerous ghost hunting teams and mediums have been brought in to investigate the abundant

claims of paranormal experiences and sightings there. In the Mercat Tours information booklet

Descend and Discover: The Story of the Blair Street Underground Vaults (n.d.) author Faith

Geddes notes that the vaults became the focal point for a scientific study from the Edinburgh

Ghost Project, conducted in 2001. The research was lead by Professor Richard Wiseman to

investigate sightings in the vaults and see if the circumstances could be replicated or disproven

within a group of volunteers. Geddes reports that 44% of volunteers reported that they had

perceived paranormal activity, ranging from smells and touch to auditory phenomena (40). The

Edinburgh vaults have also been featured in a number of different ghost hunting television

shows, including Most Haunted and Ghost Adventures, as well as the BBC programme Joe

Swash Believes in Ghosts. Tour companies have continued to report sightings and experiences

from their walks, as well as photographs that are believed to lend credence to stories of

hauntings.

Aside from the walking tours that take place within the vaults, tour companies run their

own sanctioned ghost hunts several times per year, and investigators can host their own private

events for a fee. Ghost hunts are advertised months in advance and tickets can be priced upwards

of £50, selling out very quickly. The South Bridge vaults are reflective of the larger paranormal

industry in Scotland, where ghost walks have become just one facet of a growing number of

events.

24
 The amount of different activities and tours conducted within the vaults, as well as its

well-known reputation as a haunted location, made it an ideal location to conduct fieldwork. It

exemplifies how the wider commercial industry has begun to expand its repertoire of events to

cater to believers and hobbyists within the paranormal community. The different activities

conducted in the vaults represent an ideal microcosm of an industry-wide incorporation of ghost

culture beliefs and practices into commercial tourism, which have become packaged for the

tourist experience.

Fieldwork: Ghost Hunting, Walks, and Medium Readings

While residing in Edinburgh, I carried out my exploration of the commercial paranormal

industry by personally attending dozens of ghost walks9 and events.10 My intent was to

familiarise myself with the structure and content of different walks, compare and contrast

content, as well as note recurring themes within stories. This initial fieldwork was meant to

gather the information for my original research objective. In order to become deeply familiar

with the content and stories, I recorded each different walk multiple times to habituate myself

with the tour’s language and reappearing story types, as well as the layout of the vaults. I also

9
While there are a great number of tour companies in Edinburgh, I primarily focused on the tour companies that
operated within the South Bridge Vaults: Mercat Tours, City of the Dead Tours, and Auld Reekie Tours. However,
certain storytelling analysis also prompted the inclusion of Mary King’s Close, which is a close under the buildings
in Old Town that is also reputed to be haunted. In Chapter 2 I explore the ways in which all four tour companies
have come to adopt similar stories and themes.
10
Including commercial ghost hunts, medium readings, and investigations.

25
interviewed official guides about tour content, the history of the vaults, and the script they use

for storytelling.

Later, the information that I had gathered during my first year of fieldwork would be used

to analyse the way companies incorporated the terminology, tools, and beliefs of a larger ghost

culture within their events. My initial fieldwork on walking tours was supplemented by

participating both in commercial events (ghost hunts) and investigations organised by

independent groups. I became well acquainted with those in the independent investigation

community, and well as with mediums who offered their expertise on commercial ghost hunts.

I spent the next year of my fieldwork becoming accustomed to the structure of

commercial believer events to contrast with independent investigations. I also recorded

interviews with investigators, mediums, and commercial ghost hunters to analyse the effect that

tourism has had within ghost culture. My conversations with both mediums and non-commercial

investigators allowed me to become better informed on the beliefs held by Spiritualists and those

in ghost culture, respectively. While both sets of ideals have had elements incorporated into

tourism, they have some fundamental differences in beliefs despite a close overlap. Thus, my

overall goal with my later fieldwork was to understand the wider beliefs within ghost culture,

being as well-rounded as possible to account for differing ideals and methodologies of those

within the paranormal community.

26
 Fieldwork Complications

In any anthropological work on the subject of tourism, the inclusion of the tourist voice

creates an ongoing issue. Tourism is, by its nature, a transient experience for sightseers.

Individuals only stay in locations for a short while, and their days are often already organised

around other events or explorations of the area. The limited time allotted for speaking with

tourists is largely restricted to tours. However, Anthropologist Edward Bruner noted the

difficulty in interacting with tourists on walks as an ethnographer:

Tourists move so fast through the sights that it is hard to keep up with them . . . It is
relatively easy to begin a discussion but in the middle of a sentence the tour leader
announces that the group is moving on to the next site, and your information has
disappeared . . . (1995: 225).
My own fieldwork was no exception to this continuing problem for tourism research. Indeed, the

issues raised by Bruner are only exacerbated in the context of paranormal events. Beginning a

discussion during walks or ghost hunts is challenging due to the way they are organised, where

silence is considered a vital component in sensing the presence of spirits. While I was able to

engage in a few discussions with tourists on ghost hunts, many were interrupted as we moved

into the next chamber. Before and after events leaves little time for interviews; attendees are

expected to gather mere minutes before the event starts, and tourists disperse far too quickly

afterward.

However, the availability of the Internet offers opportunities for the inclusion of tourist

voices. The increasing number of online review sites, as well as tourist participation in social

media, is a new facet of travelling that presents tourist voices specifically posted for public

27
consumption. While including online posts may present its own problems,11 it is one of the few

presented opportunities to include the perspective of the traveller in tourism research. Internet

posts are becoming increasingly vital to this area of study for multiple reasons: 1) Reviews and

online posts are encouraged by tour companies. For commercial events, they are a means of

authenticating a site as haunted, and certain stories and online images later become used on

tours; 2) Online posts are becoming vital for word-of-mouth (WOM), which has been shown to

impact the decisions of other tourists on whether to visit a site; 3) Reviews and social media

posts make it possible for tourists to interact with one another about their experiences, which

may or may not be possible within the limited structure of a tour. For this thesis, I sought out

online posts from well-known review sites and social media sites to include within my research

and added any on-site tourist discussions where I was able. These posts have been incorporated

to both lend support to analyses, as well as discuss the various ways in which tourists experience

sites – which now continues beyond the tour itself.

11
The most common criticism toward the inclusion of online posts pertains to doubts about the truthfulness of
internet posts. However, I would argue that there is little evidence that the honesty of internet posts is any less than
in face to face interactions.

28
 Chapter Outlines

This thesis is divided into six chapters, each of which discusses an aspect of commercial

paranormal events, contrasted with beliefs, ideas, and practices within ghost culture. In Chapter

One, “Ghosts in Scotland: Tourism History, The Scottish Brand, Victorian Spiritualism, and the

Commercialisation of the Supernatural”, I explore the historical context for how the paranormal

became an aspect of the Scottish brand. Since the 18th century, the marketing of Scottish national

identity to tourists has involved elements of mysticism. This othering of Scotland is mirrored in

literature during the 18th and 19th centuries, from Samuel Johnson’s inquiries into the Second

Sight, to Sir Walter Scott’s use of spectres in his stories. This chapter explores how the

romanticised “mystical Celt” and Highland aesthetic later solidified the paranormal as associated

with the Scottish landscape.

This chapter further highlights the ways in the scientifically-minded post-Enlightenment

culture and Victorian era Spiritualism created the framework for the contemporary views of

spirits as being non-secular entities. The Victorian age emphasised a new way of attempting to

interact with spectres through emerging technologies, which were some of the first efforts at

scientifically investigating the paranormal. Soon the popularity of spirits and the use of scientific

applications to investigate the unknown were increasingly commercialised to a public that had

become spirit obsessed. I discuss how ghost belief became linked with the desire to scientifically

prove the existence of ghosts, as well as how the rise of Spiritualism connected ghost belief with

spectacle and performance.

29
 Chapters Two and Three are dedicated strictly to examining ghost walks, primarily

focusing on the structure, larger cultural concepts, and storytelling. In Chapter Two, “Walking

Tours: The Ghost Space, Tour Structure and Storytelling, Themes and Symbols”, I critically

analyse the structure, tales, and content within ghost walks. My discussion concentrates on the

recurring themes and ghost types which are presented within stories. The storytelling on ghost

walks present aspects of ghost culture belief which are critical for framing the spectral world to

tourists. Walking tours create atmosphere by their deliberate use of darkness, and candlelight that

resembles certain ritualistic elements surrounding spirit folklore and spectral manifestations.

Amongst this is an examination of what I call the ghost space, the metaphysical landscape where

ghosts reside, and how it is presented to tourists through language, terminology, and adoption of

specific ghost culture spirit types.

Chapter Three, “The Ghost Tour as Theatre: Setting the Stage, Death as a Spectacle, and

Constructing Authenticity”, offers a look at the spectacle-driven aspect of tours. Certain tours

present torture, tragedy and death as part of the entertainment, offering tourists the unique

experience of participating in a performance as a form of street theatre. The use of spectacle

raises discussions about ideas of authenticity, and how paranormal events both construct and

subvert authenticity within tour storytelling (the former through detailed accounts of hauntings

that occurred on former tours, and the latter through the use of theatre and play). I also examine

the ways in which guides reconstruct an historical Edinburgh that encourages both imagination

and a “mental tour” within the physical space. The imagined space encouraged on tours involves

the vital association of historical Edinburgh and its contemporary cityscape as being entwined

with hauntings. Therefore, the past identity of the city is framed within the context of the

paranormal.
30
 Chapters Four and Five are devoted to the broader research I performed during fieldwork,

specifically on other paranormal events which are tailored for believers. These events have

become a growing, vital part of the tourist landscape. Chapter Four, “The Mediumship: Spirit

Communication and Creating a Ghostly Landscape”, discusses the mediumship and the role

mediums hold within the paranormal community. I compare two different types of medium

events: one involving a medium from the Spiritualist church, and the other two highlight medium

participation on ghost hunts. The two types of events present contrasting mediumship practices,

as well as vital distinctions in how they interpret the spirit world and convey it for tourists.

Mediums conduct their readings in a way that resembles certain ritualistic and folkloric

elements pertaining to spirit summoning. The first vignette offers an account of how a

Spiritualist medium conveys messages from spirits for certain members in the audience. Her

performance reflects beliefs within Spiritualism about the idea of spirit families as well as

addressing key ideas about death and dying to frame the experience for the audience. The second

two vignettes explore how mediums on ghost hunts recreate a mental picture of the spirit

landscape and the ghosts within it for the tourist.

Chapter Five, “The Commercialisation of Ghost Hunting, and How Tourism Has Affected

Scotland’s Ghost Culture”, compares the conflicting ideologies between ghost hunters (those

who make money hosting events for tourists; the term is also used for those employed by

television networks) and ghost investigators. In presenting ghost hunts to paying customers, the

structure of a traditional investigation changes to accommodate the tourist experience. This

includes underplaying the importance of the scientific method (which is considered vital in ghost

31
culture) in order to enhance the emotional geography of the space. In doing so, tourists become

more open to the suggestion that certain occurrences have spectral origins.

This chapter also explores how the increase in paranormal tourists has created an influx

of ghost hunting events set up for the express purpose of capitalising on the popularity of ghosts

in the media. Certain locations become popular places to host events, making it expensive and

increasingly difficult for investigators within ghost culture to conduct their own legitimate

scientific studies. The affect is a ghost culture that is becoming increasingly commercialised for

the benefit of tourists.

Chapter Six, “Ghosts in Popular Culture: Online Paranormal Communities, And the Rise

of the Televised Ghost Hunt”, continues the discussion of the ways in which commercialism and

the media has affected the ghost culture at large. The paranormal is becoming increasingly

visible on television, with new ghost hunting and storytelling shows emerging regularly.

Companies within Edinburgh are taking advantage of this rising interest in the supernatural by

tailoring their events to recreate the feel of televised ghost hunts. This has had the incredible

effect of spurring new businesses that appeal to amateur ghost hunters.

I also discuss the role that the internet plays in creating an ongoing paranormal discourse.

Internet communities have become vital places to discuss paranormal belief, the legitimacy of

ghost hunting shows, and new ways of interacting with spirits. Online discussion is encouraged

by tour companies, who prompt visitors to discuss their experiences and share pictures via social

media. This chapter highlights the ways in which personal ghost stories have become

increasingly shared through the internet and on television. In response, people seek out

32
commercial paranormal events in order to emulate the extraordinary experiences they see in

media.

33
 CHAPTER 1:

Ghosts in Scotland: Tourism History, the Scottish Brand, Victorian Spiritualism,

and the Commercialisation of the Supernatural

By discussing the history, branding, and commercialisation of the supernatural in Scottish

tourism, I realise I am undertaking to write about a considerably substantial and significant

aspect of the country’s history. Unavoidably – and regrettably – this requires a great deal of

condensing on my part to fit such a consequential topic into a single chapter for this research;

truthfully, an entire thesis could be written on the subjects I write here alone. While this chapter

may not be satisfying in terms of overall in-depth analysis of these subjects, it would be an

incredible oversight on my part if I avoided the history of Scottish tourism, its branding, and its

connection to the supernatural. All three lead to the eventual incorporation of Spiritualism and

ghost hunting as a basis for contemporary ghost walks. While ghost tourism is not limited solely

to Scotland, the spectre has become a common figure within the Scottish tourist landscape. In

any tourist destination, heritage is vital to how the place is commoditised for the tourist

experience – but in Scotland, heritage is presented to tourists through the lens of the paranormal

(Inglis and Holmes, 2003: 51). This chapter presents and analyses the growth of Scottish

tourism, and how the paranormal, magical, and mystical has become entwined with the country’s

heritage and commercial branding — to the point where tourists are encouraged to come to

34
Scotland to experience the paranormal for themselves.12 Historical context is also an important

aspect of how tours within Scotland are framed; guides build on a perspective through the focal

points of history, storytelling, Spiritualism13, science14, and popular culture, which I intend to

recreate through this dissertation. There is a past/present dynamic to the way ghost tourism and

the Scottish brand have been presented commercially, and how these aspects are merged together

within the ghost culture in Edinburgh are important to the core of this thesis. The topics I will

discuss in this chapter – from the formation of Scotland’s national identity as being paired with

the supernatural to the emergence of Spiritualism during the Victorian era – are the various

amalgamated parts of what has become the country’s paranormal tourist industry. These aspects

continue to play a part in how the paranormal is packaged for the visitor experience.

Indeed, hauntings have become inextricably linked to Scottish identity. As Mary Inglis

and David Holmes state, “A ghostly guise assists the industry through mysticising Scottish

heritage as more glorious than the mundane every dayness of the present in which the tourist

normally lives” (2003: 56). The branding of Scotland as entwined with the paranormal has been

ongoing for centuries, creating a national identity that has become defined by its exotic, magical

and aesthetically romanticised otherness. The commercial view of Scotland creates a connection

between its landscape, urban locales and geographic features with the strange and paranormal.

From tales of fairies to the Loch Ness monster to spectres, the Scottish rural and urban scenery

has become metaphysically associated with mythological creatures, which propagate a

12
This theme of the “paranormal tourist” is recurring throughout this thesis, most especially in regards to those
seeking ghost hunting experiences.
13
Through the use of mediums.
14
Via ghost hunting experts and their terminology.

35
perception of the country as exotic. Literature and writings from significant historic figures

created a precedence for the othering of Scotland. As far back as Shakespeare and Macbeth,

Scotland’s witches, ghosts, and paranormal creatures have been presented to an English

audience. Scottish otherness was reaffirmed in the early 18th century when Martin Martin wrote

about the habits and superstitions of the rural Scottish. Later, Samuel Johnson’s enquiries into the

Second Sight, which were influenced by Martin’s work, further entwined the paranormal with

Scotland’s culture. Johnson’s travels revealed graphic testimonials from seers residing in the

Scottish isles. The experience left Johnson, a noted sceptic, willing to believe in their claims.

Johnson’s influence – as well as tales and novels singling out Scotland as firmly other –

have drawn tourists to the country for generations, either with the goal of seeking an experience

for their own or to see the places named in famous works. Commercial tourism in Scotland

began to connect various locations with the paranormal, creating sensationalised historical

frameworks to draw visitors. Sir Walter Scott’s popular writings on Scottish history is credited

with these trends; David McCrone, Angela Morris, and Richard Kiely (1995) argue that Scott

“gave birth to a new way of thinking about the past”, which “introduced the idea of past and

present as two very different entities” (4). This dynamic is incorporated into tourism through the

past being characterised by its interaction with the present through hauntings (Inglis and Holmes,

2003: 51). Scott’s influence happened to coincide with an era interested in all things Celtic, and

his stories of spectres and ghosts amid the romanticised views of Scotland only further reinforced

Scotland’s otherness and paranormal branding.

36
 However, Scott’s influence also came during a post-Enlightenment age15 that emphasised

scepticism toward beliefs which were considered superstitious. While there was a fascination

with ghosts and spectres – reflected in much of the Gothic-revival literature produced at the end

of Scott’s life and afterward – the topic was approached with both doubt and, in some cases,

derision, from authors of the day. It was not until Victorian era Spiritualism16 had grown to

become such an influential aspect of British (and American) society that the paranormal became

approached through the scientific perspective. The Victorian era Spiritualism obsession ignited

an intellectual dispute between scientific and paranormal communities, where the use of

revolutionary instruments and inventions became appropriated by spiritualists to prove the

existence of ghosts. The adoption of scientific devices to support paranormal theory angered

scientists and philosophers, sparking intense debate across written media. This conflict between

scientific and spiritualist communities, as well as the use of devices to support the presence of

paranormal entities, is a debate that continues to be a critical aspect of contemporary ghost

culture. By approaching this subject from a historical perspective, I intend to offer a foundation

for the topics I discuss throughout this thesis, and how aspects of Spiritualism and the tourist

industry emerged and created the unique, vibrant ghost culture I examined during my fieldwork

in Edinburgh.

15
The Scottish Enlightenment was considered to have ended in the late 18th century, so this post-Enlightenment
would have encompassed the years immediately following, through to the mid-19th century.
16
From the mid-19th century onwards.

37
 The Start of Tourism and the Scottish Brand

The contemporary Scottish brand has merged together elements of the romantic

aesthetic17, the supernatural, and Spiritualism in its marketing to tourists. The Scottish brand is

an important aspect to its tourist industry, and exploring the historical circumstances in which it

was created is absolutely necessary for understanding how the paranormal became such an

influential aspect of the country’s commercial identity.

While Scotland became of Britain with the Act of the Union of 1707, tensions between

Scotland and England – which would later become, and remain, its main tourist market – did not

subside in the years after negotiations. Scottish historian Peter Hume Brown noted in his work

Early Travellers in Scotland (1891) how few visitors came to the country before the latter half of

the 17th century. Although Hume Brown may have exaggerated the lack of travel between

England and Scotland, the ever-present hostility between the two countries may have negatively

affected any movement between them (Seaton 1998: 8). The true start of Scotland’s tourist

industry began during the latter half of the 18th century (after the last Jacobite uprising), which

later flourished due to several key influences which I will discuss within this chapter.

The first waves of visitors to Scotland were those who took advantage of its proximity.

Scotland was newly part of the United Kingdom, yet it was entirely separate and considered

“exotic” due to the limited travel between the two countries in the years prior. To English

travellers, eager for a taste of something different and yet in closer than the Continent, Scotland

17
Notably, Celtic and Highland symbolism.

38
was ideal due to its cultural differences and a geography yet largely unexplored by English

travellers (Inglis and Holmes, 2003: 52). The exploration of Scotland was significant in that it

began out of a demand for strange and unfamiliar experiences that contrasted with the

homogeneity and mundane nature of English life – specifically of those living in London who

could afford to travel.

One such individual was English author Samuel Johnson, who famously explored the

Highlands and islands of Scotland with his friend James Boswell in an attempt to seek his ideal

concept of the “noble savage”. His views of the wild Highlander came from works like Martin

Martin’s A Description of the Western Islands of Scotland (1719), which detailed the everyday

lives of those residing in more rural Scottish areas. Boswell kept a record of his and Johnson’s

trip to the Scottish Isles in his work A Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland (1775), which

culminated in an inquiry into the Second Sight.

In Scottish folklore and history, the Second Sight was a paranormal gift possessed by

seers. These certain persons have “the faculty of seeing otherwise invisible objects” (Rev.

MacGregor, 1922: 33). The Second Sight also included the ability to see the past and the future,

as well as being able to witness spectres, which were locally referred to as taisch. Johnson noted

that the Sight was considered an “involuntary affection” that only a rare number of individuals

possessed. Residents of the local islands were known to strongly believe in the accuracy of the

seers’ visions, despite the practice being at odds with local Presbyterian faith (Johnson,

1775/1820: 342). Johnson was a profound sceptic, being a product of 18th century Enlightenment

ideals which dominated English and urban Scottish thinking at the time. During this particular

period one critically questioned customs, and morals, with strong belief in rationality and

39
irrefutable scientific proof. Despite Johnson’s belief that the Second Sight was “ascribed only to

a people very little enlightened” (ibid: 341), he admitted, “I never could advance my curiosity to

conviction; but came away at last only willing to believe” (ibid: 343). Travellers like Johnson18

who wrote about their profound experiences in Scotland served to intensify and propagate

Scotland’s status as other. More than that, they formulated the precedent for Scotland as being a

country that is ostensibly linked to the supernatural, a connection which has endured in modern

tourism promotion.

The tourist view of Scottish otherness became even more pronounced during the late 18th

and early 19th centuries, kindled by a significant interest in all things Celtic and Celtic-inspired.

Rising interest in Celtic mysticism clashed with the scientific ideals of the Enlightenment,

sparking an intellectual debate which would continue throughout the nineteenth century.19 Inglis

and Holmes contend that the popularity and success of Celtic-inspired stories throughout

England was the product of a “Romantic reaction against the rationalist modes of thought

associated with the intellectual project of the Enlightenment” (2003: 53). Moreover Scottish

culture was quickly appropriated by tourists due to an increase in the number of travellers during

the rise of Romanticism and the popularity of Gothic literature.20 Gerard Carruthers and Alan

Rawes argue that Celticism was used as “a tool in the construction and expansion of the post-

1745 British state” (2003: I), through which Scotland, its rich history, and its distinctive culture

18
Other influential English travelers to Scotland included John Lightfoot and Thomas Pennant, who were both
themselves influenced by Johnson’s travels.
19
This will be further elaborated upon in the next section of this chapter.
20
Romanticism is roughly considered to have lasted between 1800-1850. It has some overlap with rise of Victorian
Gothic literature during the Gothic revival, which began in the mid 19th century and continued into the early 20th
century.

40
were commercialised for English visitors. Literature and storytelling also played a critical role in

constructing a Scottish brand which continues into our own contemporary age: one where Celtic

culture was firmly linked to mysticism. The national identity of Scotland became synonymous

with the iconography of the Highlands – from the misty mountains and glens, clansmen in kilts,

bagpipes, and claymores (Womack, 1989: 1). During the Romantic era, these visual Highland

representations were also adopted by lowland Scots residing within urban and industrial settings

to distinguish themselves as equally exotic (McCrone et al., 1995: 57).

The association between Scotland and mysticism became more firmly connected with the

popularity of the Ossian poems (1761). During the course of his travels in the Scottish

Highlands, poet James Macpherson claimed to have discovered fragments of an ancient epic

poem, written in Gaelic, by Ossian, the Son of Fingal. The poems depicted epic battles set

against majestic landscapes, with great Scottish heroes. Despite doubts surrounding the

authenticity of Macpherson’s claims concerning the discovery of the ancient documents; notable

figures of the day vigorously promoted the poems, including literary authors David Hume, Adam

Ferguson, and Hugh Blair. Kenneth McNeil attributes the strong support as validating the need

for Scottish identity to remain conspicuously separate and distinct from the rest of Britain: “. . .

when Scots took up the cause of Ossian, they did so within the context of a strident patriotism

that was nevertheless pro-union. Ossian therefore played a key role in establishing a Scottish

model of British ‘identity-in-difference’” (McNeil, 2007: 26). The Ossian poems presented

Scotland as a culturally disparate nation, which neatly fit with the English view of Scotland as

already separate and different. Despite the Ossian poems being an inauthentic representation of

Scottish history, the poems succeeded in disseminating the view of the “mystical”, Celtic

Scotland. Malcolm Chapman describes the romantic view of the Celt as “a magical figure, bard,
41
warrior and enchanter, beyond the reach of this world, and an object of love and yearning for

those doomed to wander among material things in the cold light of reason” (1992: 253). The Celt

as presented in the Ossian poems became yet another illustration of Scottish culture being

presented as magical, despite it being an inauthentic account of Scottish history.

This was further propagated through the aesthetic appeal of Scotland’s geographical

features, ancient castles and abbeys – another popular attraction during the Romantic era. The

Scottish landscape was described as rugged and picturesque, with guidebooks focusing on “the

wild grandeur of the landscape, remoteness and peace, coupled with a dash of romantic history”

(McCrone, et al., 1995: 59). The picturesque aesthetic made the Scottish landscape integral to its

literary narrative, contrasting the story against the topography of the Scottish Highlands

(Withers, 2006: 15). Fraser MacDonald argues that “these visual ideologies are. . .an important

vehicle of capital accumulation, the images being bought and sold all over the world and part of

a global imagining of Scotland as a commodity” (54: 2002). The development of the Scottish

brand, from the view of its landscape, culture, and heritage was created largely by, and

specifically for, the English and European audience. That commercial view of Scotland did not

exist solely outside of the country, but within it, as well. McNeil notes that MacPherson, the true

author of the Ossian poems, “became the agent by which the indigenous culture of the Highlands

was ‘opened up’ to imperial expansion” (2007: 27). The Highland identity, glorified within the

Ossian poems, became accepted as a form of national Scottish identity. English tourists from

primarily urban landscapes held Romantic notions about Scotland as both wild and magical.

More than that, Scotland and the paranormal and magical became even more firmly entwined.

The English views of Highland culture became absorbed into what was widely considered

authentically Scottish, and it became the signature by which Scottish literature thrived.
42
 The Historical Representation of Ghosts Through Literature and Media

The literary works of Sir Walter Scott benefitted greatly from the romanticised view of

the Scottish aesthetic. Alastair Durie argues it was during this era that “Scotland passed from

being the preserve of a few moneyed and culturally motivated tourists . . . to becoming a mass

destination for all levels of society” (2003: 44). Scotland became a prime tourist destination

when Scott published his seminal work Lady of the Lake in 1810. Its influence was striking at the

time, with 20,000 copies sold to a public eager to consume Scottish literature. Lady of the Lake is

credited with inspiring the initial rush of visitors to the Trossachs. Perhaps more significantly, it

reignited the literary tourism which was originally sparked by the Ossian poems, where visitors

came from as far as the United States to see the places eloquently described within Scott’s works.

Scott’s stories represented a romantic, picturesque view of Scotland, a countryside dotted

with spectres, as well as the supernatural. Contrary to some claims, Scott did not start tourism in

Scotland, but he contributed a great deal to expanding it and making the country a popular

destination for visitors (Durie, 2003: 48). McCrone, Kiely, and Morris note that he is responsible

for the “deformation” of Scottish culture by creating a “Caledonian Anti-syzygy”, a term coined

by G. Gregory Smith to describe a national identity of Scotland torn between “unrestrained

fantasy and dour realism” (1995: 61). The Romantic era of Scotland had framed a Scottish

identity that was a product of a mystical “Highlander” past which even now remains a vital part

of its national identity. Scott’s stories of spectres and hauntings interspersed through the Scottish

countryside were a marked contrast to the widespread rational-minded principles that were a

product of the Enlightenment. Inglis and Holmes argue that during Scott’s time there was a

“desire to resurrect the past against the dullness and spiritual vacuity of the present,” a sentiment

43
that still holds true in the way Scotland is projected to tourists (2003: 54). Scott’s literature is of

particular importance to the historical framework of this thesis due to its instrumental influence

on the mainstream link between Scotland and the paranormal that would later become vital to its

tourist industry. Almost every book Scott wrote contains some references to paranormal aspects

of Scottish folklore, from ghosts to spectres, fairies and even the Second Sight. Notorious horror

author H.P. Lovecraft once wrote that Scott “frequently concerned himself with the weird,

weaving it into many of his novels and poems,” and that in Scott’s work Wandering Willie’s Tale

in Redgauntlet (1824), in particular, “the force of the spectral and the diabolic is enhanced by a

grotesque homeliness of speech and atmosphere” (Lovecraft, 1973: 40).

Sir Walter Scott’s accomplished literary work was significant in Scottish literature

because he drew on existing Highland folklore and language for his stories. He encouraged the

historians of his era to study records and recreate accounts of antiquity, giving credence to a new

way of thinking about the past that eventually became cherished as heritage (McCrone et al.

1995: 4). However, to that end, Scott is also blamed with creating the Scottish romantic aesthetic

and further othering its culture and history (ibid, 61). This past/present interaction between

Scottish history and a Scottish present played out in Scott’s stories through spectres and the

paranormal, a dynamic that has been incorporated into modern tourism. Through the spectre, the

history of a location – and its peoples – becomes interactive with the physical present. Scott’s

focus on the supernatural in particular was influential to its inclusion in tourism. Despite Scott’s

surface scepticism of the supernatural (a product of his Enlightenment upbringing), he wrote the

contents for his book Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft (which he began in 1829) that “the

abstract possibility of apparitions must be admitted by everyone who believes in a Deity, and his

44
superintending omnipotence”, and he later adds that “supernatural communication cannot be

denied in theory” (1830/1831: 51).

Scott’s work cherished Scotland’s folkloric roots, including rural superstitions. He wrote

in particular about the concepts of Highland spirits. In the Highlands, ghosts were seen as either

manifestations of spirits of the dead, or spirits of the living – who were soon to die. In Scott’s

time, spirits of the dead not only sought revenge on the spirits of the living, but they also warned

of impending disaster (Thompson, 1976/2013: 69). Spirits of the Highlands differed from other

types of folkloric spirits because they represented the past and the future, as well as warnings

that were significant in a present context. Thompson argues that the Highland ghost “is a

complex being, reflecting history, ethnic origin, the character of the region and personal

experience” (ibid: 70).

Scott drew on a number of these Highland ghost beliefs in his work, notably in The

Highland Widow, when the witch-like aunt acts as the warning spectre. In The Two Drovers,

Scott uses the figure of the aunt with the Second Sight to be the voice of Highland tradition and

honour. Despite Scott’s claims that “a supernatural tale is, in most cases, received as an agreeable

mode of amusing society” (Scott, 1830/1831: 300), Scott showed serious interest in the

supernatural in his lifetime. His stories also reflected the conflict between folk belief and

Enlightenment belief that he was torn between during his life. Old Mortality, in particular, is

reflective of folkloric belief that those who died violently were more prone to haunting the place

in which they were killed. This idea is perpetuated in contemporary ghost tours, that places of

violent or mass deaths affect the metaphysical space and create a draw for lingering spirits. As

Mercat Tours states in their advertisements, “You'll hear of bloody plots that led to treason and

45
torture; secret lives that lead to horrific deaths and tormented souls.” (“Hidden and Haunted”,

n.d., para. 3). These both reflect significant beliefs about Highland spirits and how they come to

haunt locations.

Scott’s interest in the paranormal would eventually culminate in his work Letters on

Demonology and Witchcraft, which was only released towards the end of Scott’s life. Letters

evidenced his keen interest in Scottish legends and supernatural belief. Importantly, it created a

visibility for the supernatural from the perspective of folklore and thoughtful analysis rather than

sensationalised storytelling. Through Scott’s work, Scottish myths and legends were made

available for widespread consumption during the post-Enlightenment age that had taken hold of

the British public (including urban areas in Scotland) that emphasised science and scepticism.

When Scott wrote Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft, he thought the public belief in the

supernatural had long since dwindled:

“Tales of ghosts and demonology are out of date at forty years and upwards . . . it is only
in the morning of life that this feeling of superstition ‘comes o’er us like a summer cloud,’
affecting us with fear, which is solemn and awful rather than painful; and I am tempted to
think, that if I were to write on the subject at all, it should have been during a period of
life when I could have treated it with more interesting vivacity, and might have been at
least amusing, if I could not be instructive” (Scott, 1830/1831: 337).
Despite Scott’s outlook on ghosts being out of date, Andrew Smith argues that “. . . ghost

beliefs were not eradicated during the Enlightenment as ghostly manifestations were tested with

some empirical rigor in an attempt to account for spirit activity as an occulted aspect of the

natural world” (2010: 2). Scott’s work had created a dialogue about the supernatural during the

post-Enlightenment, when the scientifically minded public were keen on investigating the subject

through scientific methods. While Scott’s Letters had been written under the long shadow of

Enlightenment ideals, there was a resurgence of paranormal interest by the time his research was
46
finally printed. The mid-19th century Gothic-revival incorporated the aesthetic of Romanticism,

combined with horror and melodrama in literature. Victorian-Gothic literature made the

paranormal, ghostly, and the strange commonplace, and it became vastly popular throughout

Britain. The literature of the era, much like the media now, created a visibility for ghosts and the

paranormal. Suddenly, the topic was present in a wide range of popular literature enthusiastically

consumed by an eager public.

Perhaps most notable was the discussion that emerged over Scottish author Catherine

Crowe’s The Night-Side of Nature; or Ghosts and Ghost-Seers (1848), which was an attempt to

persuade readers to look into ghost stories and contextualise them for answers to life after death.

Crowe’s accounts of ghosts were taken from many sources, including folklore and retellings

from friends who had personally experienced paranormal activity. Crowe is credited with

introducing the word poltergeist – a type of spirit that would later become a popular draw for

tourists onto ghost tours and hunts21 – into the English language. However, her book was met

with the customary scepticism of a post-Enlightenment age, notably from Charles Dickens.

While Dickens’s literature also included ghosts, he criticised the paranormal aspects of Crowe’s

work, claiming that the existence of ghosts relied upon:

“. . . imperfect grounds of proof [and] in a vast number of cases [ghosts] are known to be
delusions superinduced by a well-understood, and by no means uncommon disease . . .
they are often asserted to be seen . . . in that imperfect state of perception, between
sleeping and waking, than which there is hardly any less reliable incidental to our
nature” (Dickens as cited in Collins, 1963: 8-9).
Dickens’s comments were published in the Examiner, creating the context for a critical

discussion of ghosts within popular media. It was a reflection of the conflict between paranormal

21
Which will also be discussed later and in more detail in Chapter 2.

47
belief and scientific thought that emerged during the mid 19th century. Through science, there

were those who sought to prove or disprove the existence of spirits, a parallel to contemporary

ghost hunters who use the scientific method to document spirit activity.22 Even Dickens himself,

like Scott, was well read in ghost folklore and collected it throughout his lifetime. Like other

literature during the Gothic era, Dickens’s ghosts were set against the backdrop of people’s

everyday lives, and the spectre’s role shifted from being harmful creatures to be feared to entities

seeking to communicate with, and in some cases help, the living.

The mid-19th century marked a de-sequestering of folkloric spectres and the Second Sight

through Gothic literature, where spirits’ existence in death were entwined with the living literary

protagonists. Spectres represented “principles of social justice”, as they were typically linked

with guilt and lapses in morality (Smith, 2010: 3). In that regard, the literature of the time

showed a significant shift in how ghosts were regarded by the British public: ghosts became

known as secular entities (Hill, 2011: 22). Before that, ghosts were considered to be lingering

remnants of a superstitious, uneducated population who believed them to be dangerous entities

who were tactile and wrought havoc on the living, and were also quite capable of immense harm

(Davies: 2007: 18). Moreover Gothic ghost stories “became narratives of personal, social and

religious significance” (Hill, 2011: 23), and represented shift in how ghost stories were not only

consumed by British culture at large, but had sparked a resurgence of interest in the paranormal.

22
See: Chapter 5.

48
 The Start of the Ghost Hunt and the Commercial Exploitation of the Supernatural

Through Gothic literature, ghosts became associated with urban geographies, changing

the way ghosts were presented to the public that has endured into our modern era. Prior to the

mid-19th century, ghosts were viewed as spectres that haunted long ago battlefields, farmlands

and small rural villages. In Scotland, this was an aspect of the Romanticised notion of ghosts;

they were an aspect of the paranormal other set against the misty, rugged backdrop of the

Scottish Highlands, or haunted those they once knew in life. Owen Davies chronicled ghost

belief and hauntings going back 500 years for his book The Haunted: A Social History of Ghosts

(2007), and discussed the phenomenon of people gathering to hunt ghosts in urban spaces for

spectacle and entertainment. Those in cities who had heard rumours of “ghostly rappings”

gathered at locations to witness the sensation (90).

In one particular instance at a churchyard of Christ Church in Westminster, the effigy of a

ghost constructed from white paper drew an estimated crowd of 5,000-6,000 people. The mid

19th century media, which had once played a large role in debunking and criticising claims of

hauntings, suddenly began to generate word of mouth for these early ghost hunts in order to sell

their newspapers. The publicised locales became sensations, drawing people in droves who were

eager to experience the paranormal for themselves. In some cases, these became organised ghost

hunts that consisted of hundreds, or even thousands, of people seeking the truth behind rumours

of hauntings. These hunts were not without some criticism from post-Enlightenment thinkers,

who described the events as “uncouth and vulgar, a disgraceful mix of ‘superstition and a lack of

civility’” (ibid: 92). Davies argues that the “rapid spread of dailies in other big towns from the

1850s onwards, meant that a swift momentum of interest could build up regarding the

49
appearance of a ghost, thereby helping shape public perception and involvement in hauntings”

(ibid: 91). Through public media consumption, ghosts became entities to be investigated and

sought out, with hunts regarded as social activities within communities. Widespread interest in

ghosts created commercial viability for locations; they sold papers and attracted crowds of

curious onlookers who sought to investigate ghosts, much like the role television plays in

sparking interest in contemporary ghost hunts. This was startlingly different from previous

generations, where ghosts were entities to be feared and avoided.

The flagging Scottish tourist industry exploited this new paranormal obsession to attract

crowds to supposedly haunted locations. During the mid-19th century, British tourism had

become highly competitive, and Scotland, once considered exotic and fascinating, saw less

tourist interest than before (Durie, 2003: 129). Scotland was forced to reshape its tourist industry

to reignite demand from their primary market: English tourists. Alastair Durie (2003) noted the

fierce competitiveness between Scotland and England, who both sought to attract tourists who

could not afford holiday travel to the Continent. He stated that it was, “resort against resort,

region against region, country against country, and unlike nowadays there was no government-

sponsored strategy” (129). Private parties and individuals who benefitted from tourism widely

promoted Scotland’s brand, playing up the aspects that had made Sir Walter Scott’s work so

famous in the first place: the romantic aesthetic. Destinations emphasised their otherness by

connecting locations to ghosts, packaging the paranormal for the tourist experience.23 Roger

Clarke (2012) wrote about the intense rivalry between sites claiming to be the “most haunted”,

23
Incidentally, ghosts also became another competitive point between Scottish and English destinations, a
competition that endures within today’s tourist industry. The most notable being the rivalry between York and
Edinburgh for being considered “most haunted city in the UK.”.

50
an advertisement pubs and inns employed to attract tourists seeking a likelihood of personal

paranormal experiences. The phrase has become commonly used in contemporary tourism24, and

would become the title for a current popular British television show Most Haunted, which sought

to explore and hunt for ghosts in locations for the benefit of viewers.25

The same advertising that brings crowds of people to haunted locations in our

contemporary society was introduced during the Victorian era. Crowds of ghost hunters gathered

at locations purported to be haunted sparked a trend of commercialised ghost experiences.

Among this was leisure ghost hunting, as exemplified in Harriet Martineau’s The English Lakes

(1855), in which she eloquently describes haunted locations that might be of interest to her

readers. In one instance, she details a hill path near Scales in the Lake District, stating, “This part

is the very home of superstition and romance” (96). In her guide, Martineau combines

romanticism and hauntings, both with the geography of the countryside that connects to the

paranormal – ideas reflected in Gothic literature. Clarke (2012) attributes Victorian era interest in

ghosts to urban spread: “The rapid industrialisation of Britain and the gulf between country folk

beliefs and city materialism acted as [a] powerful modifier” (297). Entwined with increasing

industrialisation were the ease of travel and the spread of popular media, creating increased

visibility and advertisements for haunted locations. Through literature, popular media, and

tourism, the paranormal had become a mainstream subject, and the question of life after death

only became further popularised with the influence of Spiritualism.

24
Including the Edinburgh vaults, the location that frames this thesis.
25
See: Chapter 6.

51
 The Rise of Victorian Spiritualism and Ghosts in Mainstream Culture

The Victorian age saw a newfound interest in spirits which had never before been

matched on such a widespread basis. Owen Davies (2007) argues that “Mesmerism and

Methodism may have created a sympathetic atmosphere for spiritual inquiry but it was

Spiritualism that made ghost investigation a mainstream intellectual pursuit again” (89).

Spiritualism entailed a deliberate attempt to communicate with spirits, brought on by the belief

that good spirits enabled people to see into God’s realms and would offer guidance to the living.

Davies notes that before Spiritualism had taken hold in Britain, the “main reason for wishing to

encounter the dead was in order to banish them rather than seek their spiritual guidance” (ibid:

71). The Victorian era marked a time in which people not only sought out paranormal

experiences, but utilised new scientific inventions in an attempt to explain – and prove – spectral

phenomenon. Both Victorian era Spiritualism and the science versus paranormal debate are

themes that will continue to be expounded upon within the other chapters of this thesis. Like

ghost hunting and the Romantic aesthetic, Spiritualism has been incorporated into contemporary

tourism in Scotland. Spiritualist mediums and scientific inventions have become influential to

Edinburgh’s ghost culture, and both are now used for commercial ghost hunts and walks. The

mediumship and the appropriation of the scientific method to confirm paranormal activity both

rose out of the combined influence of Victorian Spiritualism and the post-Enlightenment ideals.

The mentality toward spirits during this era changed the way people not only regarded

ghosts, but attempted to interact with them through various methods of communication. Before

the popularity of Spiritualism, ghosts had been considered extremely dangerous entities capable
52
of seeking vengeance and even intentionally harming the living. Previously individuals had

sought only to appease or avoid them, but certainly never deliberately communicate with them.

The historical fear associated with spectral entities and the later Enlightenment-era ambivalence

of all things supernatural had receded in the wake of curiosity and the desire to make connections

with the spirit realm. As Annette Hill (2011) argues, “Spiritualism sought guidance from the dead

on how to live a better life” (25). Ghosts were no longer feared, but instead sought out for

answers and proof of life after death. Spiritualism’s core beliefs were originally based on the

theories of Swedish scientist Emanuel Swedenborg. Swedenborg’s theories involved the creation

of a relevant and powerful link between the world of the dead and the world of the living. He

referred this association as the “theory of correspondence”, which included a bevy of unseen

forces that bound both worlds together (Blum 2007: 12). The subject of Victorian-era

Spiritualism covers a vast wealth of topics26 – however, for the sake of brevity the focus will be

on the aspects that first began with the rise in Spiritualism which subsequently became an

integral part of the ghost culture and tourism. In Edinburgh there were early attempts to make

sense of the mediumship, spirit communication, and ghosts by utilising scientific means and

technology. These are topics that will be discussed in a contemporary context in later chapters

that are important not just within Edinburgh’s ghost culture, but within the context of tourism.

Spiritualism first rose to prominence in the United States before spreading to Britain. The

belief system introduced two new terms into the common language: a medium, which described

an individual whose body was the tool for communication, either through speech, interpretation,

or possession; and a sensitive, someone sensitive to spirit presence. In the mid-19th century, there

26
Including politics, gender, as well as attempts to defy gender norms of the era.

53
were reportedly some 30,000 mediums working in the United States. The medium would have

been similar to what Johnson observed in those with the Second Sight: the ability to see both past

and future events as communicated by spirits on the other side. These terms were used by the

new spiritualist movement intending to shed the baggage of superstition associated with the

Second Sight. In truth, they were simply rebranding already existing folk ideas to appeal to the

more scientifically minded populace of the Victorian age. In doing so, mediums and sensitives

were able to generate wider interest in the paranormal by commercialising the spirit world, and

encouraging an already eager public to join in making their own personal connections with

ghosts.

The Clash Between Spiritualist and Scientific Communities

The Fox sisters, two young farm girls from upstate New York, are credited with sparking

intense curiosity which spread Spiritualism throughout the United States in the late 1840s. They

received both local and national attention for their ability to contact a spirit visitor they called

Mr. Split-foot, who communicated with them via a series of raps. The Fox sisters became a

national sensation, performing private séances and appearing in P.T. Barnum’s American

Museum where he charged admission for those seeking to communicate with Mr. Split-foot

through the sisters. Victorian-era spirit communication was significant in that it was

fundamentally linked to the technology of the era. Even Mr. Split-foot’s rappings emulated a

54
ciphered code very similar to what Morse used for his magnetic telegraph. Marina Warner (2006)

notes that tensions between science and religion during the Victorian age had a heavy impact on

the collective social consciousness of the era. New technologies and scientific discoveries

offered a new perspective on life, and created “new extended mysteries beyond the reach of

scientific empiricism” (221). The first dot-dashed message (called Morse Code) Samuel Morse

sent between Baltimore and Washington, DC (1846) highlighted the prevalent outlook: “What

hath god wrought?” After Morse’s first long distance communication, “rappings, and séances and

psychic research spread in step with the new uses of electricity and communication

technologies” (ibid: 222).

Author Deborah Blum (2007) claims that the in the mid-1800s, the United States

“seemed possessed” by Spiritualism. At least two million American citizens were said to be

ardent believers of spirit communication, and numerous individuals believed they had

communicated directly to the dead (20). Blum argues that the “era was one of intense moral

imbalance – religion apparently under siege from science, technology seemingly rewriting the

laws of reality” (ibid: 8). The influence of the Enlightenment had cast a long shadow in terms of

its emphasis on scientific thought. Belief in spirits and the paranormal were still considered to be

superstitious and uneducated, despite Spiritualism’s attempts to link science with the existence of

spirits. The clash of Spiritualism against a scientifically minded society is something that

resonates into our contemporary age, but initially found its roots in the Victorian era when

rudimentary technology and invention blossomed with industry.

Victorian era spirit belief and post-Enlightenment ideals conflicted, at first, when

scientists sought to disprove the methods mediums used to communicate with spirits. Blum

55
(2007) cites the example of scientist Michael Faraday, who invented an early prototype of an

electric motor. Faraday also conducted several laboratory experiments involving a piece of

equipment called the talking table. The talking table was used by mediums to prove the presence

of a spirit, who communicated with the living by moving or rotation the table thus answering

simple yes or no questions.

Figure 1: A photograph of table-tipping. Taken 1898 with medium Eusapia Palladino.

56
 Faraday described his experiment to the Times in a letter detailing his methods: he placed

glass rollers between two pieces of wood and fastened them together. If anyone sitting at the

table pushed the upper board, it slid over the lower board. He attached an instrument to the upper

board to record any minute movements. When those participating in Faraday’s experiment sat at

the table, it moved despite their claims that they had been sitting still. Faraday concluded that the

movements were unconscious and inadvertent muscle twitches made by the participants

themselves and not by spirits. Despite arguments from those in the spiritualist movement,

Faraday dismissed them: “If spirit communications, not utterly worthless, should happen to start

into activity, I will trust the spirits to find out for themselves how they can move my attention”

(Faraday as cited in Blum, 2007: 21).

However, Faraday’s anxious calls for scientifically minded scepticism were completely

ignored by the torrent of people seeking to communicate with spirits. Spiritualism spread from

the United States across the sea to Britain, and mediums became international celebrities, visited

by thousands. The commercialisation of spirit communication presented itself in the form of

séances, private parties, and publicly driven spectacles, some that have become emulated in

Edinburgh’s current tourist industry. Initial commercially driven ghost events included everyday

objects set up for the express purpose of spirit communication. Séances were performed for large

audiences, where spirits communicated via levitating objects, table tilting, prototypical Ouija

boards and other forms of talking boards.

57
 Figure 2: The Davenport Brothers were American illusionists who rose to popularity in the 1850s. After touring the
United States, they performed their shows throughout England, helping to spread the fascination with Spiritualism to the
United Kingdom.

Despite the success and widespread draw of the paranormal spectacle, these everyday

objects were simply not enough to substantiate spiritual presence to sceptical communities.

Spiritualists began looking for new ways of both evidencing the paranormal and improving spirit

communication through new, emerging technologies. Communication and recording instruments,

in particular, became utilised as more and more people became eager to experience spirits

directly and personally rather than through mediums. Through the use of new technologies, some

individuals claimed the mediumship was no longer necessary. In making the spiritual realm more

accessible to those without the gift of mediumship, the roles of mediums became limited.

Technology created a more personal link to the spiritual realm, by which people could form their

own individual connections without the service of mediums and sensitives. Steven Connor
58
argues that spirit belief and scientific thought became even more connected as those within the

spiritualist movement participated in a twinning or ghosting of the development of new

technologies, especially those used for communication (2000: 363). This created a period of

“extraordinary science”, through which people experimented with new technological methods to

prove the existence of spirits (Abbott, 2007: 32). The public became enthralled with new

technology which they believed offered proof that spirits were constantly on the other side

waiting, and willing, to communicate with the living – and that this realm was accessible to

everyone through the use of novel inventions.

The Phonograph: Recording Spirit Voices on the Other Side

Certain inventions used for spirit communication were well ahead of their time, and

therefore took on a magical status. Communication technologies, in particular, were thought to

be otherworldly because since they were capable of transmitting information and existed as

capsules of time (Hill, 2011: 33). The focus for these next two sections will be on the

phonograph and the camera. These instruments became influential not only to spiritualists of the

Victorian era, but maintain particular importance to ghost hunters in our modern age. The

phonograph, which recorded and played back sound, was the prototype for what would become

digital voice recorders.27 Abbott notes that the phonograph was “credited with a redefinition of

27
In Chapter 5 I discuss how ghost hunters use digital recorders in locations to capture the voices of the dead.

59
time and space,” and that its voice recordings could be shipped even overseas for people to hear

the voices of family members or colleagues (2007: 31).

Figure 3: The Medium Eva C. with a Materialisation on Her Head and a Luminous Apparition Between Her Hands

60
 Through its ability to record sounds, the phonograph preserved the voices of people

before their deaths, capturing pieces of them that could carry on in the lives of the living. It was a

voice without shape or body that lived on through technology. Jacque Perriault referred to the

phonograph as “the first technology which actively attempts to conjure up death” (Perriault as

quoted in Durham Peters, 1999: 161). Journalist W.T. Stead praised the telephone and the

phonograph, stating:

Countless generations mourning the dead have cried with vain longings to hear the sound
of the voice that is still . . . Now the very sound and accent of the living words of the dead
whose bodies are dust have become the inheritance of mankind (Stead as quoted in
Douglas-Fairhurst, 2002: 1).
The phonograph’s significant contribution to the era was in its ability to immortalise the voices

of the living, so a part of them would live on after death through technology. However, for the

Victorian spiritualist, the phonograph was also considered a way to capture the voices of spirits

on the other side who wished to communicate with their living loved ones. Through these two

roles the phonograph played during the Victorian era, “the human became just another haunted

machine” (Warwick, 2014: 374). Within that human/machine dichotomy, spiritualists believed

the phonograph captured pieces of the soul that could be played back to the living, the same use

the digital recorder plays in the modern ghost hunt. Once associated with immortalising dead

loved ones through the recordings left before they passed, the phonograph took on a mystical

quality: it became connected with auditory spectral phenomena.

61
 Spirit Photography: The Photograph as Evidence of Spirits

Another invention which became more developed for capturing the paranormal was

photography. While the camera had been invented prior to the phonograph, it was not until long

after its invention that it became utilised for the purpose of capturing spirits on film. For

spiritualists seeking to make connections to the spirit realm, the camera became a replacement

for those in the mediumship. Before photography, the medium’s abilities were considered by

believers to be supported by science: the living, conscious body has an electromagnetic field that

changes at the moment of death; spirits are those who are capable of staying in communication

with the living and mediums are more in tune with their frequency (Gutierrez, 2009: 65).

However, as scientists and sceptics became increasingly critical of the spiritualist movement,

they called for more evidence. The spiritualist movement changed under the scientific gaze and

the need to prove the existence of the supernatural became a new objective. These new

technologies were a method through which spiritualists could both prove and develop links with

the spirit world (Warner, 2006: 225). The medium – the human element of spirit communication

– was the primary culprit for the sceptic’s critique due to their potential for dishonesty.

The camera eliminated the need for a medium, and therefore the potential for both human

error and deception. Cameras produced images which were considered more objective than what

might be received through a medium; and the ghost could be witnessed by those without the

ability to communicate with spirits. Elizabeth Edwards notes the significance of the camera’s

role in presenting reality, that photographs became used as empirical facts and evidence. She

62
referred to this as a reality effect, in which photographs were used to present an unbiased,

ultimate truth (2012: 16).

Figure 4: This photograph was taken by Sybell Corbet in 1891. She believed the photograph captured the spirit of Lord
Combermere. The photograph would have taken up to an hour to expose.

Annette Hill notes that the photograph, in particular, is an example of what Roger

Silverstone (1994) referred to as double articulation, where the material object is associated with

psychological and social matters (Hill, 2011: 33). While the objective and practical use of the

photograph could be explained by the amount of light the shutter lets into the box, early

photographs were nonetheless associated with the supernatural (the light allowed into the box

was believed to “steal” or “capture” the light of the soul – the source of the belief that the camera

steals the soul). Spiritualists believed that the dead were beyond the abilities of human sight, but
63
within a range that could be picked up by the camera, a notion that endures in modern ghost

hunting and spiritualist communities. Despite these ideas surrounding the camera, the existence

of photographic evidence was crucial to proving the existence of spirits (Warner, 2006: 222).

Davies notes the irony in the fact that Spiritualism “soon came to rely on materialism for proof

of its anti-materialist premise” (2007: 130).

In an effort to adapt to this new age of spirit photography, the role of the medium was

altered. Stacey Abbott notes that “these developments demonstrated an increasing separation

between the medium and the spirit world as the medium gradually shifted from acting as an

interpreter of messages to an operator facilitating communication” (Abbot, 2009: 31). Mediums,

eager to maintain relevance in a technologically shifting world, went from being the body

through which spirits communicated with the living to being the source of what attracted ghosts

to certain instruments. A notable technique used by mediums was the psychic photograph, noted

by Warner (2006) as a combination of psychic science (as practiced by mediums) and

photography, which was becoming more available as a household appliance. The psychic

photograph allowed mediums, acting as the body for spirits, to project images onto the

photographs.

64
Figure 5: This photograph by Frederick Hudson (c. 1874) features medium Florence Cook in a trance. In the photo, Cook
is being looked over by a spirit she called “Katie King”.

Trance mediums presented themselves as being able to summon spirits in photographs at

will. Warner notes this as a “translation of thoughts into images”, which “shaped the trust which

Victorians placed in spirit photographs.” (ibid: 229). Warner likens mediums in this sense as

“human Victrolas”28, “an instrument that is both receiving and transmitting” (230). Photography

28
“Victrola” being another word for the phonograph. In this sense, the concept of the phonograph and the role of the
camera became combined; the medium participated as a living phonograph who conjures spirits to be captured on
film.
65
changed the way Victorians thought about the ghost, from immaterial entities to entities

consisting of some form of light and substances which could be imprinted within the body of the

camera onto film. Photography also created a method through which the general public could

visually experience spirits for themselves, in a way that was both personal and significant.

Suddenly, spirits had become even more accessible, with those interested in investigating spirits

continuing to use emerging technologies to investigate and connect with the paranormal.

Conclusion

The contemporary Scottish brand is one in which the past and present have become

connected and interactive, and the paranormal is the bridge through which they intersect.

Through the romantic aesthetic and literature of the Enlightenment and post-Enlightenment age,

Scottish identity has become defined by its connection to the supernatural. As Rev. Charles

Rogers once wrote, “. . .the spectres of murdered persons, or of their murdered hovered, it was

believed, about old ruins and sequestered dells. They followed those who had deprived them of

their mortal tenements.” (Rogers, 1869: 255). The spectre continues to be an intrinsic part of

Scotland’s urban and rural geography that is marketed to tourists. The ghost is what marks the

Scottish countryside as other and as a compelling tourist destination in that “. . . the phantom

transmogrifies the mundane landscapes of present-day Scotland. It drapes over these terrains a

shroud through which the tourist can gaze out of the present and into a mist-covered past, the

66
representatives of which are phantoms and ghouls” (Inglis and Holmes, 2003: 61). The tourist

landscape of Scotland is marked by the spectre, and ghost stories have become another aspect of

the country’s history. This chapter has shown how the Scottish brand came to include the

paranormal, and the eventual aspects of the commercial ghost industry that is reflected in

Edinburgh. The desire to prove the existence of spirits through technology remains an important

aspect of ghost hunting in contemporary ghost investigations. The influence of photography and

digital voice recordings, especially, remain the most important methods through which ghost

investigators provide proof of hauntings in a location. The spiritualist ideals that became present

in the Victorian era, the conflict between science and belief, and the paranormal brand that

established Scotland as other, remain vital components of ghost culture. These topics continue to

play out within both the commercial and investigatory paranormal spheres in Edinburgh and are

addressed within the contemporary setting for the rest of this thesis.

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 CHAPTER 2:

Walking Tours: The Ghost Space, Tour Structure and Storytelling, Themes and

Symbols

My field research for this thesis included personally attending dozens of organised ghost

tours and events within the city of Edinburgh. The overarching goal was to get a sense of the tour

atmosphere, as well as the different categories of tours each individual company presented. My

fieldwork first commenced as an interest in ghost stories, both in cataloguing and exploring the

different styles of each tale. As my research progressed and I recorded additional stories on ghost

walks, I began to notice similarities in the tales, as well as the format of tours for each individual

company and even across several companies. Through both written and recorded data, I became

familiar enough with stories to spot contrasting aspects and resemblances. Next, I analysed the

structure of tours, as well as how the stories reflected wider cultural ideas within ghost culture,

Spiritualism, ritual, and folklore.

The Edinburgh ghost tour industry is a vivid combination of performance, ghost hunting,

and storytelling. Each tour caters to a different kind of audience; some are structured largely for

entertainment purposes, to tell stories in a theatrical manner about ghosts set against the

backdrop of a gory and violent historical Edinburgh. Others include a sombre approach to

exploring the different types of spirits that haunt various places in Old Town, incorporating

aspects of a ghost investigating Edinburgh sub-culture that is active in trying to scientifically

verify the existence of spirits. Despite the tonal, presentational, and subject differences between
68
tours, they share many of the same types of stories. Michele M. Hanks posits that the ghost

stories relayed on tours represent a form of mythico-history, a term coined by Lisa Malkki (1995)

to describe a set of stories that confront both the past and structure of everyday life, which

converge in order to make (or remake) a world (2011: 134). In the case of tours, the mythico-

history is the construction of an environment where the realm of the dead and the realm of the

living remain entwined through ghost lore. More than that, the stories told on tours show clear

parallels to prominent beliefs, ideas and themes of Edinburgh’s ghost culture.

This chapter seeks to explore the similarities in structure, motifs, and content of the

stories told on the ghost walks. Qualitative data (recordings, pictures, handwritten notations)

were collected from four principal tour companies within Edinburgh: Mary King’s Close, Auld

Reekie Tours, Mercat Tours, and City of the Dead. Additionally specific attention was paid to the

construction of what I call the ghost space, the spiritual landscape created on the ghost tours, the

place where spirits reside, and how that information is communicated to tourists. Within the

ghost space are particular types of spirits whose stories have narrative commonalities across

different walks with competing Edinburgh tour companies. I will analyse these resemblances, as

well as explore the ways in which stories appropriate existing beliefs within ghost culture, their

folkloric basis, and how tours create and build an historical framework for their tales.

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 Assembling the Ghostly Landscape: The Nature of the “Ghost Space”

Throughout this thesis, certain sections within tour chapters will be devoted to larger

cultural ghost beliefs within Edinburgh’s ghost community. These ideas formulate the basis,

structure, and framework for ghost walks in Edinburgh. A particularly important aspect is the

ghost space, a phrase I coined while participating in walking tours. The term reflects the manner

in which tour guides verbally relay stories about the secondary spiritual landscape that resides

alongside our living world. John Sabol (2007: 23) describes what I call the ghost space as being

composed of haunt stratigraphy, an anthropological space in which the past (where the spirits

inhabit) and the present (where the living inhabit) intersect and interact with one another. He

further details this to be a place of, “symmetrical interlacing of memories, actions, thoughts, and

performances, from disparate sources.” Each story told on the tour represents a facet of this ghost

space, a single pocket in time for each specific ghost. The spiritual landscape itself becomes

reflective of that spectre’s own time, former life, as well as their experiences and memories.

In Edinburgh’s Spiritualist community, there are certain parts of the ghost space used as a

single dimensional reality or second life. The entities inhabiting this reality are entirely separate

from the other spirits in the same ghost space. In this place they are able to live out their own

afterlife in complete ignorance of the other spirits who may haunt the same location. Not only

that, but the sequestered nature of the ghost space allows them remain unaware of the living as

they move through the physical present. The location itself is a place spirits are attached to and

unable to leave; their ghost space becomes a combination of how the space appeared in the

spirit’s past and the endless repetition of the once habitual behaviour in their former lives. The
70
place is considered significant to the spirit either because of the manner in which they died or

because they are so attached to their former lives – and their old routines – that they return to

continue them in the ghost space (Davies, 2007: 4). On the tour, the creation of this other

dimension becomes a mode of creating a framework around stories of hauntings. As Avery

Gordon (1997) explains, “A ghost . . . [is] that special instance of the merging of the visible and

the invisible, the dead and the living, the past and the present . . . the making of worldly relations

and into the making of our accounts of the world” (24). The Edinburgh vaults are reflective of

this between-ness, a psychically charged location that connects history and the present, and

where the invisible spectres of the dead connect with the living, despite being visibly absent

(Pile, 2005: 171).

During an extensive review of notes and recordings from various ghost tours (and other

similar events), I parsed the type of spirits living within the ghost space into several distinct

groups. In the first group, the spirit constructs a ghost space that is completely separate from

spirits who may haunt the same location. This spectre is not only unaware of living people who

may move through the physical site, but they are also ignorant of the presence of other spirits.

Mediums within Edinburgh’s Spiritualist community describe the space these spirits create as

pocket dimensions of their own time – where the spirit conceives a location as it originally

existed during their former life. Moreover, these spirits have afterlives entirely run on repetition,

or what John Sabol (2009) describes as a memory bank of experiences, in which their reality is

entirely dependent upon the collected recollections of their former lives (45). This aspect of the

ghost space is considered within the Spiritualist community to be rarely accessible except by

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mediums or those sensitive to the presence of spirits.29 Indeed, some ghost investigators do not

consider these to be ghosts30 at all, but psychic imprints (also called residual hauntings) of

people or events which have left their mark on a location; they are an echo left behind residual

intense emotion. According to Dan, a ghost investigator I interviewed, the energy a person

“imprints” on a location can even be impressed by living people; he and his team have to

distinguish between these residual hauntings and actual spirits while in the field. However, other

ghost investigators I spoke with disagreed, believing that after death some ghosts go on to repeat

certain events which were significant to them in life – either the way in which they were killed,

or even just their daily routine. Despite their differences, both philosophies agree that this spirit-

type has little with the living; they are occasionally glimpsed, but their consciousness remains

solely within the reality they have created.

The next group of ghosts are purported to exist within a larger spiritual landscape. These

spectres seem to be more critically conscious of territorial separations – the individual,

partitioned spaces within the ghost space – as well as being more aware of the distinction

between a living physical space and their own existence relative to that. That is to say, these

spirits are also considered to be aware of the living world we inhabit and may attempt to interact

with those in it. This type of spirit occupies the ghost space at large, not being confined to their

dimensional realities or memory banks. In terms of interaction, these spirits manifest in what is

29
Further expounded upon in Chapter 4.
30
As in, a conscious presence in an alternate reality.

72
considered within the Spiritualist community to be a typical haunting – as in, those experienced

by living persons via their senses, most commonly sight, touch, and hearing.31

To clarify, the ghost space is both a representation of the physical location, as well as a

spatial disruption: “Ghosts and haunting . . . are special and temporal: located at a threshold that

allows emotions and experiences to cross from one setting to another, in a flash, ghosts and

haunting disrupt prosaic senses of time and space.” (Pile, 2005: 163). In contrast, the living

world encompasses the same reality, yet one that is entirely separate from the ghost space.

Within the ghost culture it is considered to be the central dimension, one in which the ghost

space revolves around, within, and alongside. Those within ghost culture refer to the separation

of these worlds as the veil, defined as a gossamer thin divider between the ghost space and the

world of the living; a haunted location is considered to be where a pathway or opening exists

between these two worlds (Guiley, 2008: 42). When people are able to see or sense spirits, they

are at a location where the world of the living and the ghost space have briefly connected, which

is referred to as a lift of the veil. When the veil lifts, however briefly, it allows for a fleeting

glimpse into the ghostly landscape.

In Edinburgh’s ghost culture, the belief is that the connection between the world of the

living and the world of the dead are fleeting – that spirits do not have a hold in the living world.

The tenuous link ghosts have to a location is primarily created by events pertaining to their

former lives, their attachment to the space, or their emotional mark on it. Because of this, a

spirit’s ability to reach through the veil to be seen or experienced by the living takes a great deal

31
Mediums and sensitives consider their gifts to operate as a sixth sense (also called subtle perception ability), in
which they can “see” dual realities: the physical space as seen with their eyes, and the spiritual space as seen in their
mind.

73
of effort on their part – though certain spirits are able to act in short bursts of intense emotion

that can cause the manipulation of physical objects in an attempt to communicate with the living.

However, for those within the ghost culture who wish to make contact, certain time periods are

pivotal for catching a glimpse of the ghost space or for investigators to use their tools to gain

evidence of the existence of ghosts. Sacred times – like midnight and Halloween – are important

within the community. These are considered liminal phases where the worlds of the living and

the dead become briefly linked. The idea stems from the belief that spirits resided in a form of

purgatory and one night per year were denied the light of God and so returned to earth for

vengeance or to right injustices (Davies, 2007: 17).32

Liminal spaces and times are vital elements of ghost culture, and tourism by extension.

The underground vaults are considered special, a location where the ghost space lies closer to the

world of the living. Steve Pile refers to these location-types as anachronisms, disruptions of

linear times and spaces, where the very presence of ghosts alter both time and space, leaving

both affected (Pile, 2005: 164). Pile’s concept of spatial disruption plays out in how tours are

constructed, as well: people move through the physical present while imagining both the past and

the spiritual landscape. The story of the Cobbler’s spectre acknowledges the past confronting the

present: The spirit of the Cobbler still lingers here . . . he is particularly interested in your shoes.

Modern shoes, especially trainers, baffle him. But make sure to linger a few seconds to let him

see them. Anachronisms are a concept mirrored within the ghost space: the presence of the living

is just as out-of-time to the spectres in the vaults as the spectres are to the physical present.

32
Sacred time and space will be explored further in Chapter 4.

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 The tour industry uses ghost culture beliefs pertaining to ghost space as the foundation

for tours. While commercial collaborations with mediums and ghost hunters are elaborated upon

in later chapters33, both anachronisms and thinning veils are fundamental aspects of the ghost

space constructed on walking tours. These larger, overarching ideas within the Spiritualist

community have become reflected even in the advertisements:

With troubling, true stories of gruesome punishment and unsettled spirits, we will relish
giving you a flavour of life, and death, in Old Edinburgh. You’ll visit the shadowy closes
where the ghosts still cling to the ancient sites and explore the gruesome past in the safety
of daylight. However, the Blair Street Underground Vaults always lie in shadow..
(“Ghostly Underground”, n.d.).
Guides tell tales of past history and tourist ghost encounters, while weaving in the

creation of the ghost space. They often speak of spirits being “frequently spotted in the archway

of that door over there,” or, “this spirit has been known to walk above our heads, where the floor

of the original room once stood.” While these are effective in maintaining a spooky atmosphere

for the benefit of tourists, they also create a mental image of the ghost space, an invisible

landscape in which spirits are always lingering and present, yet rarely experienced by the living.

As well as creating a “gaze” of the other side for tourists to piece together, tours produce what

Avery Gordon (1997) calls a sensuous knowledge. In relation to ghost tours, Annette Hill (2011:

105) describes sensuous knowledge as an, “awareness of the invisible, of the hidden aspects of

history and social issues . . . [Sensuous knowledge] is linked to knowledge of hauntings and

paranormal beliefs, and psychological knowledge of haunting atmospheres.” Descriptive

imagery both suggests spectral presence to tourists, and encourages a frame of mind that

becomes ruled by the haptic qualities of the senses. Together, stories and sensuous knowledge

33
See: Chapter 4 and 5, respectively.

75
form a perception of the space that connects the past with the present, and the living with the

dead.

Sensuous knowledge is related to the anthropological concept of tacit knowledge. Victor

Turner argues that tacit knowledge is closely linked to the transformative qualities of metaphor,

that “Metaphor is our means of effecting instantaneous fusion of two separated realms of

experience into one illuminating, iconic, encapsulating image” (Turner 1974: 4). On ghost tours,

these two separate realms are the living physical world, and the separate realm of the dead;

together, they make up the ghost space. For tourists, the experience is further exemplified when

guides share anecdotes of previous visitor encounters with spirits. Stories of alleged paranormal

encounters add context to the creation of the ghost space on tours. Ghost stories solidify the link

between the ghost space and the physical location in the minds of tourists. The result is a

deliberate reworking of the central ideas within ghost culture, packaged and presented in the

structure of narrative.

Tour Structure, Isolation, and the Benefit of Darkness

Although each tour company in Edinburgh has their own stories to accompany the

different vaults which they own and operate through, there are many similarities in the way they

structure tours. In this section, I will refer to the tour for the sake of brevity – but to clarify, the

focus will be on the structure of the walks for three of the major Edinburgh tour companies (that
76
operate out of the vaults) mentioned before: City of the Dead Tours, Mercat Tours, and Auld

Reekie Tours. The tours are grouped together in this section for a single purpose: so the vault

tours are presented in a way that highlights shared presentation across companies.

The tour begins within the heart of Edinburgh’s Old Town (Auld Reekie at Tron Kirk, and

City of the Dead/Mercat Tours both operate in the vicinity of the Mercat Cross), which is

surrounded by Edinburgh’s earliest historic buildings. The Mercat Cross itself is the reproduction

of an old relic from a past Edinburgh that entertained through public displays of torture and had a

lively, seedy underbelly of criminal life. Aside from these places being visible, easy to find

locations within the city centre, they evoke what Pile describes as the phantasmagoria of a city,

that “a city also haunts by commemorating its dead, in part by making them endure in its

physical architecture” (Pile, 2005: 162). By beginning the tour within the Old Town, ghosts of

the past become linked to the living. The surrounding architecture is a means of introducing the

spirit world through an immediate visual sense of place, evoking the past geography of the city.

Guides shape a mental picture of an historical Edinburgh through storytelling and descriptive

historical culture references juxtaposed against the physical setting. After all, each of these tours

have entrances into the vaults that could just as easily become a meeting space – but the act of

leading tourists through the streets of the Old Town is part of contextualising the link between

Edinburgh’s past with the ghosts that haunt its streets. The city itself has become an extension of

the ghost space created for tourists. Guides detail how places of death become significant

spiritual locations which hold emotional importance via their traumatic pasts (Hill, 2011: 96).

More than that, the group movement through the streets establishes the inclusive, social nature of

ghost walks. This intentional communitas is later eliminated through the deliberate use of

77
darkness, constructing a sense of isolation that promotes a heightened sensory experience (ibid:

105).

After being led through the streets of Old Town, tourists are taken to the entrance of the

vaults. Each is locked up to prevent unauthorised entry, and a single person within the tour is

designated to become the last person to enter. The first vault room the tour is led into is often

reputed to be the most haunted within the location. Past the initial threshold, darkness plays a

role in how the tour is constructed. The vaults themselves are lit only by candlelight, and each

guide holds a single candle that they carry with them as they lead the group through the

chambers. The effect easily creates an overall chilling, eerie atmosphere for telling ghost stories,

as well as a sense of isolation and atmosphere despite the large, tourist filled space. Storytelling

within the historical space, while holding a candle, becomes an anachronistic act. Candlelight is

meant to evoke an immediate sense of historical imagery, while ghost stories contrast that with

paranormal imagery.

Hill (2011) describes the effect of darkness in tours as combining both intense personal

emotions (brought on by an elevated sense of awareness through the unease triggered by the

sudden lack of light) with the mutual, shared experiences of a group structure (105). Darkness

also kindles the potential for unique tourist experiences. In a comment posted online about Auld

Reekie’s ghost walk, the tourist stated:

. . .its amazing how the dark can play tricks on your mind-- im sure in the room with the
stones there was someone in there- felt something a bit wierd down my right side and
when i got back to the car i noticed i had a small fingernail imprint on my finger-- if i

78
 ever come back to edinbourgh i will do the night tour-- if i feel brave enough. (Sarah Jane
Walker, 2013).34
The act of listening to ghost stories while in the deliberate, isolating darkness creates an

awareness of surroundings where the senses are heightened and adrenaline forces an ultra-

alertness of the room: the people, smells, sounds, and tactile senses, especially. It is an

experience beyond the gaze, the visual sense, and instead entwined with the sensory and

emotional. Tied with that is an acute fear response to anything believed to be paranormal in

nature. Fear is an experiential trigger influenced by a combination of ghost stories and the unease

of being in a dark, unfamiliar space. Both create conditions in which the tourist becomes more

susceptible to influence.

However, certain people within the paranormal community believe that these are the

perfect conditions for becoming more sensitive to spirits. These beliefs mirror shamanic rites of

initiation described by Knud Rasmussen of how the lack of light is utilised to create an

environment where the initiate can, “see through darkness and perceive things . . . which are

hidden from others.” (1929: 111) He further writes about darkness being a symbol for death, one

that represents a transition into the world of the dead, where the lack of light forces the initiate to

concentrate and become more aware of their surroundings (ibid: 112). While the lack of light is

certainly used to construct a unique, chilling atmosphere for storytelling – and I would be remiss

if I did not acknowledge that purpose, at least in part – but I believe it is equally important to

address how aspects of ghost culture are appropriated into even the structural level of ghost

tours. The use of darkness and candlelight is one such practice. After all, the tour guides could

just as easily use torches or – if they wished to maintain the air of historical effect such as with

34
Quoted verbatim.

79
their use of capes as costume – they could use a lantern. Instead, they lead the tour from room to

room with only a single candle lit. Within ghost culture, darkness is optimum for experiencing

spirits, an idea that relates to ritualistic and shamanic ideas of visual deprivation being important

to the evocation of spirits (Rogo, 1987: 138). Darkness is a vital component of what Constance

Classen (1993) refers to as sensory journeys, an experience which forms an understanding of the

world and places in it. In Spiritualism, the senses are important not only to communicating with

ghosts, but in becoming in tune with their world through heightened feelings.

The presence of candlelight in such a journey parallels with the practice of séance and the

idea that candlelight that attracts spirits. Eliade wrote about Malayan séances where, “the arrival

of the spirit is manifested by the quivering of a candle flame” (1964: 345). This idea of spirits

manipulating candlelight – and, indeed, spirits being drawn to the light itself – is present within

the tour structure. One guide spoke about a tour he had led where he walked into the largest vault

room, and the candle’s flame immediately flickered violently and extinguished. It seemed odd, he

said, as there isn’t much of a draft that’s able to come through down here. The air is always

pretty still. So he lit the candle a second time and it also flickered and went out. So he lit it again.

The flame flickered and flickered . . . and I realized it was as if someone were breathing next to

the candle flame, causing it to go out each time. This is a personal story this particular guide

liked to tell on his tours. After the tour ended, I asked him about if it really happened or if it was

just something he told on the walks. No, it really happened. Couldn’t get out of the room fast

enough. I do tell it on the tours because people find it interesting, but sometimes the candles

down there do behave a bit odd.

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 Aside from the singular handheld candles, each threshold between chambers is lit with its

own flame, the wax from many previous candles splattered across the ground. Each room within

the underground becomes its own unique setting for each different story. Stories begin with an

elaborate historical introduction before segueing into a conversation about the spirit that haunts

the particular room. In an interview with one of the guides for Mercat Tours, Sarah, told me:

We always start with the setting. The vaults are already pretty atmospheric as they are,
but the history sets the mood for the ghost stories. We tell the history of the vaults, then
Mercat’s findings there, and if any past tourists had any stories we share those.
By leading in with the history of the vaults, the tour company intertwines the ghost

stories with a dynamic past. The spatial identity of the vaults is constructed through stories of the

past and established within the context of a ghost story. Narratives of tourist encounters within

the vaults offer a deliberate framing of the historical space as firmly entwined with a paranormal

reality. The framework of the tour unifies the site with a real live past, while the ghost stories

themselves further legitimise the place as haunted: “[the ghost] . . .set[s] the parameters as to

what the Scottish landscape means, and . . . authenticate[s] such ways of seeing and knowing,

thus rendering the experience more “authentic” than it otherwise would have been.” (Inglis and

Holmes, 2003: 61). The space seemingly comes to life for the tourist by a series of

juxtapositions: past and present, living and dead, darkness and light. These are aspects that not

only create a more vivid experience for the tourist, but also build upon the vaults reputation as

haunted. Each story adds to its reputation and establishes an environment where the combination

of storytelling, heightened senses, and darkness leave tourists open to the suggestion that certain

sensations may have supernatural origins.

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 Tourist stories both develop and disseminate the idea of the vaults’ otherness. Otherness

is connected to what Eliade (1987) referred to as a sacred space; ghost investigators believe that

certain locations are a natural hot spot for spectral activity. According to investigators I

interviewed, hot spots are largely activated through horrific events (mass death), but are also

considered a natural location in which spirits are attracted. Tourism promotes otherness through

the connection between ghost stories and history (Seaton, 2009: 84). In this sense, tour

companies promote a deliberate otherness which is self-perpetuating: tourists believe they have

sensed or photographed something while on the tour, and widely spread their tales via internet

reviews and blogs. This review left on the Mercat Tours Facebook page is one such example: “. .

.am unsettled - shoelaces came undone all on their own in the cobblers room, and the pic I took

def has a face of a lady and an orb” (Davey, 2014).35 Facebook comments are cross-posted to the

user’s wall, so those on their friend’s list can both see and share with their own friends. These

experiences (along with photographic evidence) are also posted to Trip Advisor, one of the most

widely used review sites for companies:

I was not prepared to feel spooked, but I did feel a poke in my back in the vault where the
wee boy haunts (apparantly). When I turned around expecting someone to say sorry, there
was no one there!! We also heard stones getting chucked, or moved after we exited one
room but there was no one there. When we looked again we saw a white shadow of light
in the corner at the back of the pitch back room, when we stared further, it dissapeared in
front of our eyes! IGo with an open mind but I was a bit freaked and unsetlled and I could
not sleep well that night for thinking about it all (Belgian_Scott, 2013).36
In sharing reviews both to Facebook and to sites like Trip Advisor, experiences are read,

consumed, and internalised by other tourists seeking unique experiences in the city. The public

35
Quoted verbatim.
36
Quoted verbatim.

82
perception of the vaults is defined by its hauntings, and visitors attend out of the expectation – or

at least the desire – to prove the claims correct.

In continuing with the idea of otherness and sacred spaces, the emphasis on thresholds

also plays a large part in Spiritualist culture and in the construction of ghost tours. Thresholds are

frequently linked with Victor Turner’s idea of liminal spaces, where liminality is connected to

death, invisibility, and darkness, which are symbols of transition into a betwixt-and-between

state (Turner, 1969: 95). Again, these are overarching ideas one may not immediately associate

with tourism, but have a larger role in the ideas of Edinburgh’s ghost hunting and Spiritualist

communities. The idea of in-between states is significant when communicating with spirits,

calling them forth, and creating an atmosphere on the tour wherein the vaults themselves are

considered in-between. They are presented as a sacred space between life and death.

In reference to storytelling and overall tour structure, thresholds are a way of visualising

and making sense of the ghost space. Each individual room in the vaults has its own history and

its own ghost that haunts within it – and more significantly, these spirits can be made aware of

the boundaries and thresholds that separate their haunt spaces. Mr. Boots doesn’t come in here,

Sarah the tour guide said, referring to the malevolent spirit that haunts the Mercat vaults. The

tour was in one of the smaller rooms at the back of their set of vaults, where rocks are piled into

two opposing corners. He lingers in the hallway out there, but he has never once been spotted in

this room. We think it’s because the presence of the Cobbler keeps him away . . . Mr. Boots

doesn’t have any power in this room. The Cobbler allegedly haunts the pile of rocks in one of the

corners of the room. According to Mercat Tours, they found artefacts of shoes left over from

when the vaults had been blossoming with business in the 18th and 19th centuries. They refer to

83
this specific room as the Cobbler’s Room, after the pleasant spirit who apparently takes interest

in visitors’ shoes. “Psychics have advised us to go into this room if we have difficulties in the

vaults. The strong, positive, benign spirit of the Cobbler will protect us” (Geddes, n.d.: 42). The

idea of malevolent entities being unable to cross a particular threshold is one that connects back

to legends describing certain spaces that keep evil spirits at bay, such as consecrated ground.

Incidentally, The Cobbler has kept claim over the room he worked in during his former

life, just as Mr. Boots continues to hold ownership over the White Room. These two spirits are

considered the strongest within Mercat’s set of vaults as they seem to be able to communicate

with the realm of the living more easily than the other spirits within the same space. This

represents another significant juxtaposition within Spiritualist beliefs: the malevolent spirit

versus the benevolent spirit. Emanuel Swedenborg, whose writings influenced the formation of

Spiritualism, claimed people attract both good and evil spirits; good spirits are assigned by God,

but people attract evil ones themselves. Evil spirits set out to intentionally harm the living, and

the other seeks to protect them (Williams-Hogan, 2013: 66). This belief is also derived from

folkloric ideas about spirits and their purpose in a haunting: some perceived spirits return to seek

vengeance upon the living, while others believed they played a more protective role, returning to

defend their families from tragedy and misfortune (Rogers, 2002: 40). The threshold between the

space that the Cobbler defends and that which Mr. Boots has claimed represents a strict boundary

within the ghost space, and with it, their ability to communicate with and manipulate the physical

living space the tourists inhabit (“Mr. Boots has no power in here.”).

The different rooms in the vaults reflect changes in ownership between certain ghost

spaces, and further represent the separated boundary between the realms of the living and the

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realms of the dead (Thomassen, 2012: 22). Tourists in this instance walk between the territories

of these two spirits, a liminal space partitioned by these liminal beings where each holds power

within their own “claimed” spaces. As the tourist passes between thresholds, their journey is

reflective of what Eliade refers to as a break in the homogeneity of space. He noted that this

“break is symbolised by an opening by which passage from one cosmic region to another is made

possible” (1987: 37). Eliade’s notion on symbolic passages is related to a wider idea of tourism

as a sacred journey (c.f. Graburn, 1978; Turner & Turner, 1978; Bauman 1996). In this sense, the

journey becomes a liminal, ritual event. The stories of the dead are part of that journey, and each

room within the vaults represents an aspect of a living past. In the structure of the ghost tour, the

vaults do not exist as a singular, complete landscape, but rather as a setting where the individual

spaces are significant to each spirit, and each spirit exists between liminal thresholds.

Ghost Tour Terminology, Ghost Types, and The Incorporation of the Ghost Hunt for the

Tourist Experience

Spiritualism is not the only aspect of the ghost community that has been integrated into

the walking tours. The ghost walks have also incorporated a number of beliefs held by ghost

hunters or ghost investigators. Not only has their terminology been included into the tour’s

language, but so have their tools; such as electro-magnetic field (EMF) meters. Ghost hunters use

these meters to look for spikes in the EMF signal; the spikes suggest a change in electrical

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current, and the belief is that a nearby spirit is responsible for this signal spike. Furthermore there

has been a transferred use of terminology in the types of spirits that are said to inhabit the vaults.

These categories were no doubt borrowed from ghost investigators, popularised by ghost hunting

on television shows and within the media. For example mini ghost hunts are walks slightly over

an hour in length. On these tours, they hand out EMF meters to those attending the walks and

explain spirit terminology that has been used in the ghost hunting community to distinguish

between the manifestations of different types of spirits present within a haunted environment.

My research shows these tours not only mimic the exact techniques used in ghost hunting, but

these methods also have been made even more prevalent by their use within pop culture.37

One of the first things explained to tourists on these investigatory walks is the very

question, “What is a ghost?” which is important to clarify to the reader of this dissertation as

well. Throughout the research process, the definition of what qualifies as a “ghost” seems to

change depending upon the source (written, verbal, media, etc.). There are believers within the

community who view ghosts as lost souls who have an emotional attachment to a particular

place, object, or person and are so connected to this remnant of their former lives that their spirit

remains linked to it even in the afterlife. For others, a ghost was a soul who experienced an

untimely, tragic death and remained in a purgatorial ghost space after their lives were ripped

away too early. The one commonality both ideas share is that for whatever reason, ghosts are

caught in an in-between state due to their inability to cross over into their awaiting and proper

afterlife. Within the Edinburgh ghost community, haunting is considered to be a thoroughly

unnatural state for the deceased; it is a complete disruption in the flow of existence between life

37
See: Chapter 6.

86
and death. Again, is hypothesised to be caused by either an excessive attachment to the living

state, or an inability to move on due to a tragic end. In the Mercat Tours official souvenir guide,

they refer to ghosts as, “. . . deceased persons who are grounded in the environment, trapped here

by tragedy or ‘unfinished business’” (Geddes, n.d., 39). And their act of haunting is defined

within the culture as, “a repeated appearance of a ghost before someone or in a certain location”

(Davies, 2007: 3). These are patterns of spectre behaviour that have been noted by the larger

ghost culture and subsequently appropriated by the ghost walk.

Further, throughout this thesis, words such as “ghost”, “spirit”, and “spectre,” will be

used to reference the souls of the dead. Although there is a theoretical debate within existing

literature (Sabol, 2007; Poo, 2009) and in my field research on whether these are separate,

distinct types of spirits or simply different words for the same thing. However, ghost tours

simplify and homogenise these terms into a single definition: a once living person who now

resides in an unnatural state of death. Since these words are used interchangeably within the tour

structure and the community at large in the general sense, I will adopt their loose terminology in

this dissertation. Indeed, the only ghost type on the tour which received its own very clear,

specific word (with specific connotations) was the poltergeist. On investigatory walks, this is the

first spirit explained to tourists, in part, because it was a type made famous by Tobe Hooper’s

1982 film Poltergeist. One of the earliest notable uses of the term was by Claude Auge in the 19th

century to mean:

Knocking spirits, souls of the dead who manifest their presence by knocking against the
walls, the furniture, or who express their thoughts by knocking a number of time
equivalent to the position of the letter of the alphabet they wish to designate. (Auge,
1897, as cited in Lecouteux, 2007: 9)

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 The use of poltergeist has come to mean something entirely different in modern ghost

hunting culture and on the ghost walks. The word gained intense notoriety after Hooper’s film

became a smash hit, a cult classic, and was eventually adopted into a pop culture lexicon to

become synonymous with a malevolent spirit. It is used to describe a ghost who uses primarily

acoustic phenomenon to conduct its hauntings (Lecouteux, 2007: 18). On ghost walks, the label

poltergeist also includes spirits who use tactile manipulation to their benefit, such as scratching,

bruising, and pushing. Poltergeists are considered the strongest and most responsive type of

spirits due to their ability to influence the physical, living world. Owen Davies argues that

poltergeist activity is a public spectacle, treated as dramatic entertainment, but also believed to

be irrefutable proof of the spirit world (Davies, 2007: 80). Ghost tours claim that phenomena

such as thrown objects, footsteps, rappings, and tactile events like pushing or scratching are all

caused by poltergeists in the vaults. These occurrences are observable by tourists, and presented

by tour companies as dramatic evidence of hauntings.

Tour companies also publicise poltergeists on printed tour literature; the threat of a

participant meeting the poltergeist is utilised on pamphlets and in tour literature to create a sense

of danger around the tour: “This part of the South Bridge Vaults is known as Damnation Alley.

With good reason. These dark tunnels and are stalked by a malevolent presence known as the

South Bridge Entity” (“Underground City of the Dead Ghost Tour”, n.d. para. 3). This particular

spirit is an important tourist draw because – by the poltergeist’s very nature – they are considered

extremely active. The word’s incorporation into the popular culture lexicon and its use on

widely-watched television shows also creates an immediate, identifiable aspect of a haunting to

any tourists who are personally unfamiliar with ghost investigations. Tours now utilise the

poltergeist not only as a way to advertise the vaults, but as a guarantee that spirits at the site are
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active. The scenario of a spectral encounter becomes a real possibility: “. . . the ghost walk can

assert itself as being good value for money, because it provides what it promises – an encounter

with the fearful – one that other types of tour cannot fulfill.” (Inglis and Holmes, 2003: 60).

While the tours are clear about there being different ghost types, the poltergeist is the most

immediate, recognisable, and marketable aspect of the tour.

The next most popular type of spirit is referred to as the wandering spirit. This spirit was

briefly mentioned in a previous discussion of the ghost space, how certain spirits exist within

their own pocket dimensions and choose to either interact with or ignore the living within that

same space. These spirits significantly contribute to the overall tour atmosphere because they

constitute an actual living part of local history. Furthermore, these entities exist within a ghost

space modelled after their own former lives. Tour guides espouse upon the historical-based lives

of these spirits as though they had never died; indeed wandering spirits may not be aware of their

own deaths at all, and live out a second life in the same manner as their first. In ghost hunting,

this manner of a haunting is often referred to as a time slip, a point at which the unchanged world

of the spirit and the altered world of the living intersect. Moreover a living individual is able to

catch a glimpse of this spirit performing their day to day rituals within the confines of their own

ghost space. Mercat’s souvenir guidebook describes their function as residual, claiming “they

retrace steps taken in life, like a video or DVD playing back a scene”. [Wandering spirits] do not

notice our presence and are no threat.” (Geddes, n.d., 39). This is reflective of Sabol’s theory

which states that a ghost is eager to maintain its own awareness of the world it has created; the

world of its former life, so emotional barriers have been put in place to actively avoid the

influence of the living (Sabol, 2007: xxvii).

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 Although the ghost hunting community has segregated the spiritual world into a

multitude of spirits types primarily categorised through their haunt behaviour, tours tend to limit

their explanations to two primary kinds – which represent the most common examples of

hauntings witnessed on the tour. Moreover these spirits are exemplified through certain stories

which will be detailed later, and by descriptions of their distinct haunt behaviour. According to

Mercat’s souvenir guidebook, spirits manifest in many different ways, notably through the senses

of sight, sound, and touch:

People saw figures when the rest of the vaults were empty. [They] heard footsteps when
everyone was standing still. [They] felt changes in temperature when there was no source
of a draught. [They] experienced changes in atmosphere from one vault to another.
[They] captured orbs, circles of bright light, white, blue, or even black on camera.
(Geddes, n.d., 38).
These descriptions of spirit manifestations are also used by ghost hunters within the community

as proof of supernatural presence to the uninitiated. Edinburgh’s tours have clearly adopted

similar explanations and terminology which demonstrates the link between ghost hunting culture

and the creation of the current tour structure. Tourist evidence of hauntings via photography and

spikes on the EMF meters have provided tour companies with enough confirmation to claim that

their location is indeed haunted.

There is also a past/present dynamic of the ghost tour, where the history of the vaults

becomes inextricably linked with it as a haunted location. The vaults are, then, constructed as

authentic through the presence of the ghost “which operates as a hallmark of the archaic nature

of the locale in question” (Inglis and Holmes, 2003: 56). Sabol notes that this creates an ongoing

narrative between these two aspects of the ghost story: the history and the haunting (Sabol, 2007:

xxiii). By entwining the haunting with the past space, ghost tours create a continuing relationship

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between history and the physical, contemporary reality, where the supernatural interaction with

tourists becomes a part of the location’s narrative. The ghost stories are supported and further

perpetuated through sightings and personal experiences. Avery Gordon refers to this as a

structure of feeling, or a connection between the personal feelings that arise on the tour and their

connection with the location as paranormal experiences (Gordon, 1997: 63). Tourists become

part of an ongoing verification process, a continued confirmation that what they are experiencing

either has a real-world explanation or is supernatural in origin. This process remains continuous

outside the tour through internet comments such as this one left on City of the Dead Tours

Facebook wall:

I really enjoyed the tour but was reluctant to say twice thought I heard children's laughter.
In the black tomb and our side of the MacKenzie's tomb. Just thought it might have been
some dumb echo acoustic anomaly. Anyone else heard children's laughter?? (John
Leightell, 2014)38
This structure of feeling is further reaffirmed through the tour’s use of traditional ghost

hunting tools. Photography is greatly encouraged on tours and has long since been important to

ghost hunters to capture manifestations on film, referred to as spirit photography. EMF meters

are a more modern tool in the ghost hunter’s arsenal. The EMF metre is a device used to record

the ambient electromagnetic fields in a room. In the ghost culture, they believe that spirits emit

an electromagnetic frequency which can be detected, tracked, and recorded as scientific proof of

the existence of some spirits. Not only has this become an accepted belief of the manifestation of

spirits, but it has also been considered as an answer to the question of what ghosts are, and how

they interact with their environment: “The theory of ghosts as residual electromagnetic impulses

left behind by the strong emotions of the deceased, emphasises the dampness and enclosed

38
Quoted verbatim.

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environment of buildings required to retain this residual memory” (Davies, 2007: 47). This is an

overarching idea within ghost culture which has been reflected in ghost hunting television shows

and adopted by local tours via their use of EMF meters which reflects how ghosts seemingly

interact with the space. The integration of these beliefs from ghost investigations into the overall

structure of the ghost tour displays how close the relationships are between Edinburgh’s ghost

culture, media representations (ghost investigations on television), and commercial ghost

endeavours.

The Ghosts On Edinburgh Tours: Similarities, Themes and Symbols

Now that ghosts and ghost-types within Edinburgh’s culture have been clarified, In this

section I will analyse examples of the similarities of stories told within various tours. An analysis

of my recordings showed several common story types shared between local tour companies, as

well as specific threads among stories that bear a striking resemblance to one another. These

commonalities are significant in that they have become part of a single, unified genre of ghost

story. I will address the themes that materialised within these co-joined tales, how they reflect

ghost culture beliefs, their folkloric basis, and the manner in which they connect to overarching

theories in the anthropology of dark tourism.

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 I: The Story of the Malevolent Spirit: Violence and Danger in the Safe Tourist Space, the

Gendered Nature of Hauntings

The malevolent spirit was second most common ghost story encountered during my

examination of my field recordings. The malevolent spirit is usually described as a poltergeist,

and characterised as one who may cause harm to visitors within the vaults. Its unwelcoming

presence is purported by tourist companies to cause physical harm, illness, dizziness, or cold

sweat. In this section the primary focus will be on the malevolent spirit stories for the three

principal Edinburgh tour companies (Auld Reekie Tours, City of the Dead Tours and Mercat

Tours). Specific attention will be paid to the similarities in their manifestations, and how the

stories incorporate wider ghost theory and folkloric elements.

Mercat Tours’ most active malevolent spirit is Mr. Boots, now made perhaps even more

infamous after his mention in shows like Most Haunted and Syfy’s Ghost Hunters.

We call him Mr. Boots because he wears long, knee-length leather boots and his footsteps
can be heard echoing through the vaults and the corridors. We believe he might have
once been a slum landlord down here in the vaults, extorting money from the people who
lived down here. Another theory is that he’s a body snatcher, who stored his bodies in the
White Room. He has been sighted in every room except the Cobbler’s Room and has
made it known to us that he very much doesn’t like us to be down here. His presence
becomes the most powerful while in the White Room, which he considers his room. In
fact, there was a woman standing there at the back where the fireplace would have once
stood. She thought she felt a draft on her neck . . . slow, periodic, as if someone were
breathing right next to her. Then she heard a whisper in her ear. “Get out . . . get out. . .
GET OUT!”
Mr. Boots is not the only poltergeist-type spirit within Mercat’s vaults that has been known to

cause visitors discomfort or physical injury. Another spirit, known as the Veiled Woman, haunts

the same physical space as the Cobbler (who is known to be exceptionally friendly). She is
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purported to manifest on the pile of rocks opposite of where the Cobbler haunts. It has been said

that:

Any female visitors might feel quite uncomfortable over there in that corner, where the
Veiled Woman haunts. We haven’t been able to figure out if she wears a veil because that’s
what she died in, or if that’s how her grief is manifesting, but she’s known to appear
entirely dressed in black. We think she might have died in childbirth, but she’s an angry
spirit and any young women here of childbearing age might feel uncomfortable grief if
they linger too long over in that corner. Sometimes, she has been known to cause physical
pain to young ladies as well, so you’re safer over here next to the Cobbler.
City of the Dead Tours refers to their malevolent spirit as the South Bridge Entity. They

believe this entity may be the ghost of George “Bloody” MacKenzie, the notorious judge who

presided over the slaughter of the Covenanters in the 17th century.39:

The South Bridge entity is a very active poltergeist down here in the vaults. He has been
known to cause physical injury to certain tourists, who come away with bruises and
scratches. Sometimes, he has been known to grab people. A number of visitors have had
experiences in the Haunted Vault, where the South Bridge entity frequents. He
particularly likes to attack young, attractive women, so any ladies among us might be
particularly vulnerable to his attacks . . .
Similarly, Auld Reekie Tours’ malevolent spirit is considered much more demonic in

nature. Their story involves a coven of witches in contemporary Edinburgh who used a portion

of the vaults as a place of worship and to cast spells. They chose a small room at the back of the

vault which was warm and dry-a perfect place for their service.

They set up all their supplies, a mirror in the corner, a stone circle in the centre of the
room. The witches felt an immediate sense of discomfort in the room, as if they were
unwelcome. The leader of the coven sensed a very disquieting presence – an evil
presence. When the rest of the coven became uncomfortable conducting their rituals in
the room, he decided to spend the night in the vault and cast the spirit out.

39
This association deliberately connects the ghost of Bloody MacKenzie, to the mass death story for City of the
Dead Tours, described in the next section. Another story claimed MacKenzie was the spirit primarily responsible for
the fires that raged through the city centre of Edinburgh, which would connect him to the death story for Auld
Reekie tours. See next section.

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 There are two alternate endings for this story. In the first story the leader of the coven

successfully traps the spirit within the confines of the stone circle in the centre of the room. In

the second rendition, the leader realised that the mirror he had set up in the room had become an

active gateway; allowing evil spirits unlimited access into the temple and the vaults. This

situation was cause for immediate concern so the witches quickly moved their temple to another

section of the vault but the mirror continued to let spirits through. The coven leader beseeched a

friend to remove and destroy the mirror. Not too long afterwards the man was hit and killed by a

car.

On the tour circuit, malevolent spirits add authenticity40 to ghost tours in the form of

active hauntings. They are a part of the spectacle, the entertainment, and their manifestations

proof of the presence and influence of the spirit world (Davies, 2007: 80). After all, participants

enthusiastically attend the ghost tours – at least in part – in the hope of experiencing the

supernatural, in having their own genuine experience with a haunting. Annette Hill refers to this

as psychic tourism. She argues that common people have a vested interest in these experiences,

in the emotional and psychological intensity of the tour, and an extrasensory perception that is

created by the tourist: “they produce and perform the experience they hope to have” (2011: 90).

Ghost tours are marketed based upon a possible encounter with the malevolent spirit; the stories

of poltergeists are a main draw within tourist literature. The possibility of a dangerous encounter

with a malevolent spirit becomes a part of that commercial lure, how tour companies entice

tourists into attending with the suggestion that a supernatural experience is a distinct possibility:

40
The concept of authenticity is elaborated on further in Chapter 3.

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 An encounter with the poltergeist is the highlight of the tour, with hundreds of people
claiming to have been attacked by the entity. The MacKenzie Poltergeist is now regarded
as the best documented supernatural case of all time and the tour has become equally
famous – the subject of a book as well as scores of television documentaries, newspaper
articles and websites . . . The Mackenzie Poltergeist can cause genuine physical and
mental distress. Not suitable for pregnant women or people with a heart condition. You
join the tour at your own risk. (“City of the Dead Haunted Graveyard Tour”, n.d. para. 4)

Stories and accounts of malevolent spirits are quite successful at making the dead, and the

world of the dead, seem accessible to the common person – which is only reinforced through

stories and photographs of tourist encounters. Guides perpetuate the belief that this alternate

dimension of spirits can be felt and touched, as well as capable of harming the living. One

encompassing idea of dark tourism is the mediation between the living and the dead. Tony Walter

notes the attempt tours make to form an emotional attachment between the tourist and the

mentally conjured memory of those killed at a site, more than compassion for the tragic event as

a whole (2009: 51). In the case of ghost tourism, this relationship is exclusive to ghosts,

revolving around the dreadful stories of their death, while being further reinforced through tales

of past visitor encounters.

The difference between dark tourism and ghost tourism is in the memento mori, the

reminder to the living that their existence is finite and has an end (“Remember, man, that you are

dust, and unto dust you shall return.” Genesis 3:19). Dark tourism analyses how the geographical

location itself – through its history of mass death and tragedy – holds the tragic remnants of

death. In contrast, ghost tourism considers that the death of a person is not finite, but the

beginning of a second life. Individuals carry on in a separate afterlife – and poltergeists show that

those in the afterlife still can have a connection to their former lives, and are able to make

contact with the living. The memento mori, is an essential element of dark tourism and the
96
subsequent tourist fascination with sites of death. Ghosts are a reminder that after death, life

begins anew – that, as they say in the Spiritualist community – we have a second life, or second

breath (the ancient Greeks used the word pneuma meaning the breath or the spirit to describe the

soul). Likewise a poltergeist or malevolent spirit is an ample reminder that one can still be active

after death and that the dead are certainly capable of harming living beings.

During a ghost tour, the presence of a poltergeist is proof of the existence of the

supernatural world, and that it remains entwined with everyday life (Lecouteux, 2007: 184). This

specific type of spirit is defined not by its past existence, but by its post-death continuation, one

that interacts with and revolves around the living, and remains ardent protectors of their spaces.

The stories projected by various tour companies always describe a spirit who shows an

attachment (or obsession) to a certain room, space, or object: Mr. Boots and the White Room; the

South Bridge Entity and the Haunted Vault; and Auld Reekie’s evil spirit and the mirror.

Whenever the space or possessed apparatus becomes threatened by the living, the spirit reacts

violently. John Sabol echoes the belief within the paranormal community that poltergeists are a

product of both their awareness of the living, and their fervent desire to cling to (and protect)

their own haunt spaces (Sabol, 2007: xxv). The space (or object) reflects a memory from the

spirits past. Tourists who inadvertently move through this physical, present space are considered

by the ghost to be invaders who have disgraced the memory space that they hold to be a

significant aspect of their former life (Gordon, 1997: 166). The malevolent spirit is considered a

territorial creature that has simply grown too attached to its former existence.

The poltergeist has significant connections to religion and folklore. Malevolent spectres

in pre-Christian and Christian Europe were thought to have the ability to emerge from their

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graves for the sole purpose of tormenting and seeking justice against those living who wronged

them (Davies, 2007: 101). This is also reflected in old European and Scottish lore of witchcraft;

it was believed witches used dark magic to call upon the spirits to do their bidding and harm

those they seek to punish. This idea is continued in contemporary witchcraft belief. In her work

Persuasions of the Witch’s Craft: Ritual Magic in Contemporary England, Tanya M. Luhrmann

interviewed a practicing witch who spoke about important times of power for female witches.

During these intervals, witches can conjure ghosts and unwittingly cause harm: “Menstruation is

the time of the greatest witchpower for any women. That’s when women have their car accidents,

go in for ghosts, cause poltergeists – it’s just the power going haywire. Poltergeists are often

associated with menstruating women” (1989: 110). Interestedly there is also a gendered dynamic

of poltergeist hauntings: malevolent spirits are nearly always portrayed as masculine spirits, as

are demons or devils. In folklore, there is no differentiation between evil spirits, devils or

demons. In unison these creatures possess the abilities to harm a certain person or group of

people (Llewellyn Barstow, 1994: 12).

For instance, Auld Reekie tours has explicitly linked one of their stories to witchcraft and

magic. Their malevolent spirit was unwittingly conjured by a coven. The current belief is that the

spirit continues to harm visitors brave enough to step into the stone circle, a liminal space

between the world of the living and the imprisoned world the evil spirit inhabits. In my tour

recordings, a large portion of spirits are said to prefer female victims, or perhaps women, as a

whole, tend to report paranormal experiences more often than men. In fact women are

considerably more likely to claim they have: have resided in a haunted house; experienced ghosts

while on visit to a haunted house or other location; believe in psychic phenomena; and have used

a Ouija board at least once (Bader, Menchen, and Baker, 2010: 74). In the Spiritualist
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community, they believe that women are more in tune with their own psychic energies; they

naturally sense an imbalance between the worlds where humans and spirits reside, and are more

likely to be sensitive to the ghost space than males. Women are considered sensitives, or those

who have the ability to commune with the world of the dead, who have made a connection with a

spirit, or are able to tune their senses with the world of spirits. One medium within the

Spiritualist church referred to such women as charges, as in electric charges who are able to find

a balance between the world of spirit and the world of the living.

In Spiritualism, there is an idea that the soul holds onto its personality in the afterlife

because that personality was particularly successful or powerful while the spirit was still living.41

In the world of the dead, poltergeists perpetually beget negativity because they are repetitious

beings and continue to pursue acts of malevolence (Zukav, 1990: 184). They seek vengeance by

inflicting illness and pain (on the tours participants have experienced symptoms of physical

discomfort, scratches, and bruises). Susan Greenwood (2009) wrote about the physical symptoms

of ghosts as being a “Sickness [that is perceived] to be a process whereby spirits try to take a

person to the spirit realm . . . [involving] a struggle between the spirits of the living and the

spirits of the dead” (118). Spiritualists believed these spirits were considered unclean and full of

“angry passions” and “vengeful feelings” (Hazelgrove, 2000: 65). Affirmation of these emotions

41
This ties in with another manner in which poltergeists are connected to stories of mass death. City of the Dead
Tours and Mercat Tours entwined their death stories (next section) with the crimes their poltergeists committed
while they were still alive. City of the Dead tours connected its poltergeist with a massive fire which burned out of
control; killing hundreds of people (this identical poltergeist was responsible for the deaths in Auld Reekie’s story).
While Mercat connects theirs to resurrection men.

These stories are reflective of Spiritualist beliefs that for some individuals, death is not necessarily a cleansing or a
shedding of one’s former life. Just as the spirits from the mass death are tied to a place through their shared tragedy,
the spirits of those responsible for the suffering are tied to the identical location through the crimes committed in
their former lives. Both groups are now inextricably linked to a location.

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is in how they chose to harm the living. City of the Dead Tours has an online photo gallery of

“Evidence of mysterious attacks during tours” (“Evidence of Mysterious Attacks During Tours”,

n.d.), in which they invite those who have attended their tours to submit photographs of the

scratches, bruises, and bloody mars left from their encounters with the South Bridge Entity.

Thus, their visceral feelings in the vaults are affirmed through visual proof of their encounter

with a spirit. The contribution of their photographs adds another layer of authenticity to

substantiate the claims of the South Bridge Vaults being among the most haunted places in

Europe. Internet media which is viewed by millions of potential customers reinforces the tours

goal of providing frights to its visitors through potential paranormal dangers. Hill (2011) claims

that ghost stories set in the vaults “add another layer of meaning to the history and memory of

this place and the people who visit it” (95). The malevolent spirit story is an addition to the

landscape of Edinburgh’s ghosts that creates perpetuating stories through tourist experiences.

II. The Story of the Mass Death: Suffering, Torture, and Murder

The most common tale on the ghost tour pertains to death – after all, tragic, gruesome

deaths are how those in the Spiritualist and ghost hunting communities believe a ghost often

comes to exist in the first place. However, the subject of mass death is significant in that it is the

only communal story linked to the four major tour companies (Auld Reekie Tours, City of the

Dead Tours, Mercat Tours, and Mary King’s Close). Legends of mass death are one of the

aspects of ghost tourism that connects the overarching theories of dark tourism. These attractions

utilise horrific past experiences – and ghosts, as well – not only to confront death, but for the

tourist to contextualise it within their own lives (Sharpley and Stone, 2009: 116). Through the
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story of mass death, the sense of deliberate otherness that tours evoke is again recreated through

the lens of the macabre. Philip Stone argues that by relaying historically gruesome moments, the

tours “cast light on otherwise unseen (taboo) subjects” (Stone, 2009: 185). He also notes that this

type of lighter dark tourism is the “purposeful commoditisation of death, pain and suffering”

(ibid: 184). However, in the case of the ghost walks there is also a significant link to Spiritualist

ideas about emotional, supernatural geographies created through mass death and significant

tragedy.

I should clarify that the tours do not share an identical story about mass death, but their

different tales effectively convey group suffering, resulting in a unified haunted space that has

arisen from considerable misfortune. In the interest of disclosure: the stories are not necessarily

entirely factual; they draw from real historical events, however sensationalised for the benefit of

tourists. With that said the primary interest of my research is in the stories themselves – their

content, structure, shared motifs, and ultimately their connection to ghost culture. For this reason

this section will focus on analysing story content, any similarities, and investigate the relation to

anthropological theories on tourism. It was clear from collected fieldwork recordings that mass

death was the most prevalent tale told by the tour companies. Unanimously the four companies

included within this research had a version of a horrific death scene either from an environmental

tragedy, murder, or execution.

For instance, Auld Reekie Tours has a story which originates within their largest vault.

There, the guide dramatically recounted a day (date unspecified) when fires in Edinburgh raged

across the city. As it was told by the guide: A large number of people fled into the vaults to

escape the flames and tumbling bricks around them, believing that since stone doesn’t burn they

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would be relatively safe in the underground. However, the fires around the South Bridge burned

so hot that the stones began to heat and the vaults became a massive oven, cooking alive those

who sought refuge. Now some visitors claim that they can still hear the screams of those who

perished in the tragedy . . .

In comparison the story at Mary King’s Close fixates upon the plague which ripped

through Edinburgh in the 17th century, earning it the nickname “Bloody Mary’s Close.” The filthy

conditions within the Flodden Wall were a perfect place to breed disease. Here in Mary King’s

Close, the population was suddenly struck with a plague. The city, in its infinite wisdom, decided

to control the plague by bricking up buildings to trap the ill inhabitants inside; the same thing

happened in Mary King’s close. It was sealed up to trap the plague inside and months went by

before the City Council finally opened it up again to remove the many, many corpses. By then,

rigor mortis had set in and they had to chop up the bodies for burial. After that, tales of

hauntings began to spread that those who once lived in the close never left.

City of the Dead Tour lacks a historically-linked mass death that was set directly within

own set of vaults. Instead, their tours have successfully associated their spirits with the hauntings

with a mass death that occurred off-site, at the Greyfriars Kirk, where imprisonment and eventual

execution of the Covenanters42 is believed to have created a great deal of supernatural

phenomena. Indeed, their tour explores the ancient cemetery as well as the South Bridge vaults,

which is an artful way of interconnecting the two locations to their audience. The hauntings

between the vaults on South Bridge and those in Greyfriars Kirk are eerily similar, and we have

a theory about that. The history of the Greyfriars Kirkyard starts out innocently enough as an

42
Covenanters were those who bound themselves to the Presbyterian doctrine and were persecuted for their beliefs.

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overflow cemetery decreed by Mary Queen of Scots. Then in the sixteenth century, after a violent

struggle against the oppression of the crown, the Covenanters were imprisoned on the grounds of

the Greyfriars Kirkyard. They were denied food and shelter in a freezing graveyard, and were

tortured to get them to renounce their beliefs and embrace the crown. Months went by, and those

who had managed to survive were finally executed. And their presiding judge, George “Bloody”

MacKenzie haunts both the graveyards and the South Bridge vaults, still terrorising people even

in death . . .

Mercat Tours is another tour company which does not have a mass death story directly set

in their own vaults. Rather, Mercat has linked their vaults to the lurid tales of resurrection men,

or more commonly known as body snatchers. These individuals allegedly secreted their stolen

corpses into the underground vaults and subsequently sold the bodies to the Edinburgh Medical

School on Niddry Street. The difficult and gruesome nature of the job made the jobs of the

resurrection men difficult. Mortsafes – iron bars kept over graves to protect bodies – had started

to prevent them from conducting their lucrative business. And as demand for their services and

bodies grew beyond the supply, some resorted to murder. Burke and Hare murdered sixteen

people to continue their business, and rumour has it they stored some of their bodies here to keep

them fresh for the medical students at the university.

These stories not only create an historic grounding for the ghost lore set in the vaults, but

they also weave in parts of a wider dark Edinburgh, a macabre past with stories notable former

citizens and their gruesome deaths. Stories concerning the subject of mass and tragic deaths are

significant because they create an emotional geography that enhances the tour, where the space

becomes meaningful in a way that creates an affecting experience for the tourist. Hill (2011)

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refers to these as disquieting experiences, where “ghosts bring history to life in the personal,

emotional, and psychological meaning of spirits. A haunted house, street or village is psychically

charged with the past and the present . . .” (94). These narratives work to expose the tragedies of

the past that occurred at locations which may no longer be visible. They create a threshold where

the traumas of the past are communicated and remembered in the present space (Pile, 2005: 174).

John Urry notes that the human conception of finitude is reinforced by reminders of death, and

that the sensory experience of a place is fortified by both the personal and the collective

experience (Urry, 1995: 15). However, in framing tragic stories around ghosts, it becomes an

easy, “safe” way of confronting death, the macabre, and tragedy. It further exemplifies a cultural

shift in how people – especially tourists – have become spectators of death and represents a

change in how this subject is presented to the general public. As John Tercier (2005: 22) notes,

“we see death, but we do not ‘touch’ it.” However, the unique experience of ghost tourism begins

by carefully developing an environment where tourists are provided the ability to actively

interact with a realm between life and death through the ghost space.

Indeed, that is precisely how ghost tour companies market their sites: they provide a

special glimpse of the ghost and ultimately, a view into the realm of the dead. Despite the past

tragedy connected to the location, the spectre becomes a way of luring tourists (and their money)

to the site (Inglis and Holmes, 2003: 57). Legends of mass death reveals past misfortune and

macabre, but in a way that enhances the mood of the tour. The addition of ghosts takes the event

of mass death and transforms it into a potential supernatural experience. One defining factor that

separates ghost tourism from other types of dark tourism is that a unique historical event is

entwined with the paranormal. Indeed, ghost stories in Scotland define the sites themselves,

where tragedy and mass death is a simple precursor to a haunting. Lennon and Foley note that
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sites where tragedy or violent death has occurred possess a “religious or ideological significance,

which transcends the event itself to provide meaning to a group of people” (2007: 3). On ghost

tours, the importance of the tragic event is overshadowed by the supernatural stories related to it.

Tourists are forced to recontextualise and make sense of the space in the context of a haunting

rather than the historical event, which impels them to consider their own beliefs, as well. The

sites themselves no longer exist solely as historic locations, or as relics of a time long past, or

even as place where a prolific tragedy occurred. They exist now as physical ghost spaces, as hot

spots for the supernatural.

In ghost culture, the sites of a mass death are looked upon as a prime location for

hauntings to occur. They create a shared trauma space where the metaphysical location has been

so impacted by a past tragic event that a break forms within the ghost space. The breach is

considered so dynamic and impactful that lingering spirits are drawn to and around this area. It is

an emotional geography not just for the tourists who visit, but for the ghosts who haunt there, as

well; in this sense, the spirit world and the living world become mirrors of one another. Both

spirit and tourist are drawn to the location and into the emotional echoes created by tragedy and

misfortune: “the sites of hauntings come to represent the terror of death, and at the same time the

emotional life given to these places through the trauma of the past.” (Hill, 2011: 96). Mass death

leaves an imprint that is significant for the tourist (as a reminder of death) as well as the ghost

(through shared trauma).

In addition to the emotional importance connected to the site, there are stories that reflect

folkloric beliefs concerning the serious matter of graves and corpses being disturbed or

desecrated. The tale of the body snatchers (Burke and Hare) and the subsequent presence of

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spirits who haunt the vaults connect back to notions in the Spiritualist community that a proper

afterlife may not in fact be a permanent state and can be interrupted. Folkloric notions of grave

desecration are common throughout the world, the idea being that the grave is a “resting place

for the body, marking the death of the individual with some intention of fostering the journey to

the afterlife” (Howarth and Leaman, 2003: 68). In Edinburgh’s ghost culture, the belief is that

spirits belonging to the victims of body snatchers haunt the vaults because their eternal rest was

disrupted after their graves were desecrated and their bodies moved. This action jarred them from

their rightful resting place, eternally trapping them in the unnatural afterlife with other spirits.

Spirits were thought to awaken in order to seek vengeance on those who disturbed their final

rest.

Another extension is the staunch belief that spirits cannot progress to the proper afterlife

until they have a formal burial. Local ghost tour companies (City of the Dead Tours, Mary

King’s Close, and Auld Reekie) tours have several stories reflective of the belief that disquieted

spirits are the result of those who have been given improper burials. In the case of Mary King’s

Close, the local citizens who died of the plague were subsequently dismembered; hundreds of

their bodies were haphazardly discarded in unmarked graves in what is now the Meadows.

Similarly, City of the Dead Tours has a ghostly narrative which takes place in Greyfriars

Kirkyard. For centuries this site was originally used for overflow interments for the Canongate

cemetery. However, Greyfriars only contains several hundred marked gravestones throughout the

entire cemetery. According to local legend, gravediggers buried corpses atop due to a severe lack

of space– eventually interning over 100,000 corpses.

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 The ancient belief is that individuals must be provided a respectable burial with an

appropriately marked grave – these are symbols of respect and remembrance to the once living

person. Moreover spirits have the ability to become wrathful when their burial spaces are

permanently disturbed and tread upon by the living, who are completely unaware of their

existence. This controversy is further address by Mercat’s account of about Burke and Hare (and

the other resurrection men). As the narrative goes those given a decent, proper burial had their

final resting places disturbed by resurrection men who unceremoniously dug up the bodies and

sold them to the local medical school. Next the corpses were completely dismembered by the

medical students. Even those who had been buried properly in the graveyards – in their own

designated graves – had been desecrated, ripped away from their peaceful afterlife after their

bodies were unceremoniously disturbed, dug up, and dismembered. This is considered to be the

reason their spirits still haunt the vaults.

The tours have created a story in which folklore, mass tragedy, and belief in ghosts have

been combined for the benefit of the tourist: “The visitor is now a customer, the place has a

brand identity, and the ghost is a desirable lodger rather than an unwelcome guest.” (Davies,

2007: 64). The story of the mass death is what Jerome de Groot refers to as the “historical

imaginary,” the connection between history and cultural production, where the past is fetishised

and commoditised by cultural industries into a “consumable product” (de Groot, 2009: 181). The

mass death is particularly significant because it is a tragedy which is verbally and emotionally

relayed to a group in order to create a collective emotional register. This is how the ghost story is

commoditised to tourists. First by constructing an emotional-social environment that connects

the events of the past with beliefs about death and the afterlife, then by utilising folkloric and

religious ideas involving burial that may be recognisable to tourist.

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 Conclusion

Ghost tourism in Edinburgh is reflective of its ghost culture. It is a vivid mix of

Spiritualism, folklore, pop culture and ghost investigations that have built the framework for the

ghost walk. The structure of the investigatory ghost tour, in particular, accommodates the tourist

seeking a personal encounter with the supernatural. Companies promote stories involving

malevolent spirits seeking to harm tourists, creating an atmosphere where hauntings are

legitimised through past tourist experiences. Companies encourage proof of these experiences

through the use of EMF meters and photography, which are then posted in internet galleries and

in online reviews. These experiences establish a form of authenticity within the ghost culture,

where personal narratives and photographs build the reputation of the vaults as haunted. The

tours themselves construct an atmosphere where the past and the present are interactive and

connected through hauntings and commemorations of the dead through their stories. The

similarities in structure and ghost stories on the tours form a ghostly landscape in Edinburgh that

is linked together through a shared ghost space. This ghost space is then relayed to tourist in

ways that forces them to confront their own ideas about mortality, creating a memento mori that

is inextricably linked to the afterlife and the stories of the city’s spirits.

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 CHAPTER 3:

The Ghost Tour as Theatre: Setting the Stage, Death as a Spectacle, and

Constructing Authenticity

The Edinburgh commercial ghost industry is comprised of a wide range of different types

of tours. Among the walking tours the structure and tone differ between outings which emphasise

ghost hunting by appropriating investigational tools and methods (investigatory tours) or

excursions which take a more educational approach (history tours). This chapter will focus on the

walks that foremostly feature amusement in the form of street theatre. On these performance

tours the entertainment during the walk is provided by the guide’s elaborate and drama-filled

performances and rich storytelling ability. Although performance tours share some of the same

stories as investigatory and history tours, they widely differ in their style and presentation, as

well as the manner in which they acknowledge and confront themes of death. While

investigatory tours emphasise both history and ghost hunting – with particular emphasis upon the

second life (or life after death) – performance tours address death in a way that is pure spectacle,

entertainment, and “fun” for the tourist. As one advertisement reads:

Entertainment – 17th Century style! The best way to enjoy our grim, grisly and ghostly
past is to hear it as our ghoulish ancestors…the infamous ‘Edinburgh mob’ loved the
‘entertainment’ of blood, guts and gore. And there was plenty provided, especially at the
Mercat Cross. (“Ghosts and Ghouls Tour”, n.d.)
The primary feature of a performance tour is in a contemporary enactment of public

spectacles involving torture and death; both were historically commonplace in the city of
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Edinburgh. This tour-type creates an energising past/present dynamic through its conspicuous

contrast of the city’s ancient past with the contemporary culture of Edinburgh. On the walk

through the streets, tour guides construct a profound experience for the participant, highlighting

the difference between profane (city) and sacred (vaults) worlds.43 The tour becomes a doubly

liminal experience, first through the act of historical performance (see Turner, 1982), and then by

the symbolic act of crossing a threshold into the belowground space. The otherness of the vaults

are conspicuously displayed by being utterly separated from the essence of the contemporary

aboveground, a historical capsule in time, and in auratic quality it possesses (Seaton, 2009: 86).

Tour guides reference this auratic quality in their discussion of the vaults as an atmospheric place

to tell ghost stories.

The tour’s particular combination of storytelling and performance is firmly rooted in

spectacle, with the perhaps most notable parallel being the paranormal performances which rose

to prominence in the 19th and early 20th centuries.44 Sue Jennings observes that death

performances have a transformative quality which “enables the private and individual experience

to become public and social” (1995: 23). The dramatic performances guides use during the ghost

tours is further intensified by audience members participating in the spectacle, or playing certain

notable characters that add a visual entertainment value to the overall story.

By publicly encouraging attendees to voluntarily take on a part as actors, their roles

subsequently shift from observer to character, from an individual experience to one enjoyed by

43
Performance tours greatly utilize ideas of the “sacred” and “profane” spaces in the way they split the tour between
the aboveground city and the belowground vaults. I will discuss this later in the chapter in terms of its use of
liminality.
44
As discussed in Chapter 1.

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the collective audience. Performance tours reflect Victor Turner’s thoughts on the existential

quality of communitas, that “it involves the whole man in his relation to other men” (1969: 127).

In reality participants are paying for a unique experience, one in which the tourist becomes an

active part of the entertainment for their fellow tourists. More than that, what sets the

performance tours apart from other types of tours is the extent that death and tragedy are

constantly utilised as part of the act. The reasoning behind the interest in such a vivid tour

attractions has been discussed within dark tour literature, notably by Dann (1998, as cited in

Stone and Sharpley 2009: 576), who identified eight influences: mastering childhood fears;

tourists seeking novelty; nostalgia; the fascination with and celebration of deviance; bloodlust;

and ‘dicing with death.’

Ghost tours, by their very nature, enthusiastically confront themes of death and tragedy.

Performance tours take this emphasis a step further by presenting death as entertainment, a

spectacle to be shared by all within a communal setting. Therefore this chapter will focus on the

unique experiences offered by performance tours, how they embrace and desequester death with

a combination of spectacle and play. Particular attention will be paid to the ways in which

performance tours resemble and appropriate rights of initiation. Later in the chapter, I will

discuss concepts of authenticity in the manner in which tours both break and embrace traditional

ideas of authenticity in anthropological literature, as well as how this concept applies to heritage.

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 Recreating Historical Edinburgh Through Macabre Scenes

The style of the performance tour is immediately identifiable, beginning with how the

guide speaks. The guide is dressed in black clothing with a theatrical black cape draped around

his shoulders (a uniform common on all tour-types). Next the guide melodramatically introduces

himself in a loud, boisterous theatrical voice. Within the first few minutes of the tour, it is clear

from the guide’s tone that this is meant to be exaggerated and dramatic – already the tourists are

laughing at his jokes.

The first timeframe used for this particular tour is Edinburgh, 1600s. The enactment

begins at the Mercat Cross, which at the time was used to announce royal proclamations, or to

make a public example of criminals in the form of grotesque punishments. The story starts at a

boarding house in Edinburgh during the time of Cromwell:

A man visiting from the south stopped in to have a drink. He raised his glass in a toast
and shouts, “God save the King!” and out of politeness, another man lifted his drink in
return. Of course, at the time, Scotland was a republic – and Scotland had no king. So
this would have been treason. And the penalty for traitors in Scotland followed one rule:
that the punishment must fit the crime. So the fate of these two men was particularly
gruesome. For their traitorous words, they were to receive three sets of thirteen lashes
with a cat o’ nine tails, all while the Edinburgh mob watched on with glee . . . But their
punishment didn’t end there. The man who listened got a nail driven right through his ear,
pinning him to the Mercat cross. And the man who spoke got his mouth cut open in a
great, wide smile. For the punishment must fit the crime, ladies and gentlemen.
Mercat Tours describes the walk as, “a light-hearted entertaining look at our ghoulish past

and ghostly present” (“Ghosts and Ghouls”, n.d.). While the content of the tour references

gruesome tales of public execution and torture, it does so in a jaunty reconstruction of

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Edinburgh’s darkest past. Philip Stone constructed a spectrum with a conceptual darkest-to-

lightest framework in his analyses of dark tourism; this performance tour – even while

referencing a particularly brutal public torture scene – is considered among the lighter

manifestations of dark tourism: “. . . lighter forms of dark tourism are those commercial visitor

attractions which trade on [re]created and [re]presented death and suffering” (Stone, 2006: 152).

On this particular tour, Mercat recreates an historical Edinburgh where public execution was

commonplace and a form of entertainment for those who dwelled within the city. Indeed, this

performance utilises the imagery of torture as part of the tour’s appeal. Steve Pile notes that the

nature of these stories, and their appeal, is primarily dependent upon the bloody recreation of

these scenes, that “the more terrible the injuries, the more cruel the practices, the more blood, the

better” (Pile, 2005: 126). The entertainment focus is purely based upon one specific element:

tragic, gruesome death.

The ghost stories connected to these certain tours tend to emphasise death over the

paranormal. The following story of an inn simply referred to as Number 17, which is haunted by

a malevolent spirit, is one such example.

Number 17 was bought by a couple who admired the beauty of the house, with the intent
to turn it into an inn. However, the attic room had a distinct atmosphere to it that can
only be described as . . . unpleasant. Guests were wary of entering the room, seeming to
sense that something dark resided in that room. Finally one day, a housekeeper went to
the attic to clean it and let out a bloodcurdling scream. When the innkeepers came in to
see what was the matter, they found the housekeeper in the room with a look of terror . . .
staring up at the ceiling.
Word spread about the haunted inn, and students at the University began to dare each
other to spend the night in the attic room. A student by the name of Andrew Muir
accepted the dare. Andrew was a very religious man, and offered to spend the night in the
interest of spiritual matters. The couple, eager to end the rumours of the haunting, agreed
to let him stay. For Andrew’s safety, they gave him a bell to ring if he experienced
anything out of the ordinary. After a few hours, the innkeepers were awoken by the bell
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 and a scream. They rushed to the attic and opened the door . . . and there was Andrew
Muir, dead. The bell still at his side. His face contorted in sheer terror.
While the story of Number 17 begins in the manner of a traditional haunt story – the

house, the haunted room, and sightings – it ultimately focuses on, and ends in, death. The entity

at Number 17 is not related to an historic past, nor is it one which bears any connection to the

immediate surroundings. Instead, it is a story of death which takes place in the context of a

haunting, at an undisclosed setting somewhere within the city. This story exemplifies the ways in

which performance tours present a cohesive interworking of ghost stories within dark tourism,

where the ghost is yet another feature associated with Edinburgh’s sordid history. Stone refers to

these tour-types as “dark fun factories”, in which the focus of the walk is centred on real or

fictional death and macabre events, all created to be “fun-centric” for the participant (Stone,

2006: 152). More than that, the tour deliberately creates a profound mental and visual

discrepancy of Edinburgh, where its dark, tragedy-filled past contrasts with the vibrant

contemporary city it has become. Performance-based tours utilise a large portion of the tour to

acquaint the tourists with the Old Town section of the city. As the tour guide leads through the

ancient parts of the city, they verbally reconstruct for their audience a version of Edinburgh that

is grounded in a macabre past. The stories engage the imagination by forcing the tourist to

contextualise and recreate the past Edinburgh in their minds – even as they act out torture scenes

from an historical Edinburgh.45 Tour performances create an interaction between the past space

and the present space, any preconceived notions tourists have of a national identity continue to

be shaped by these narrative events (Simone-Charteris, Boyd and Burns, 2013: 60).

45
More on this later in the chapter.

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 Additionally, tours create spatial identity for Edinburgh’s streets that are framed around

the macabre and the supernatural, where death is always prominent. Auld Reekie Tours

highlights this subject further by leading tourists through an authentic torture museum located

within their underground vault. Dimly lit green lights fill the room to reveal glass cases along the

walls. Inside the glass cases are various objects that tourists can observe at their leisure. Chains

and various other instruments are hung along the walls: screws, nails, hammers, and collections

of metal objects. Each had, at one time, been used for its own kind of torture. The guide gingerly

leads tourists through the museum displays, stopping to describe key pieces in vivid detail with

descriptions like “bones cracking,” “cartilage snapping,” and descriptions of blood and gore.

Through these descriptions, the tour is able to arouse emotion in the tourist: shock, horror,

revulsion. The performance tour’s descriptive use of language creates a space where the taboo of

death is inspected through a morbid imagery (Stone, 2009: 173).

The experience on the tour shapes the grim and the macabre into an entertaining story,

purposefully creating a disquieting experience for the tourist, where their stories expose the

tragedies of the city’s history (Pile, 2005: 174). By focusing on death rather than the afterlife, the

performance tour confronts the emotional aspect of death in a safe space, where the violence and

traumas of the past and present are revealed (ibid: 163). Most interestingly, ghosts are not the

main attraction on a performance tour. Rather, spectres are inexplicably entwined with

Edinburgh’s gruesome past – indeed, they are considered evidence of it. Ghosts are presented as

part of the macabre, a product of a tragic history: “You will have a memorable glimpse into life,

death and grisly entertainment before descending into the famously haunted Blair Street

Underground Vaults. Visit where the ghosts of Edinburgh's past still haunt her present...”

(“Ghosts and Ghouls”, n.d.). Stone notes that ghost tourism is what arises when “narratives of
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fear and the taboo are extracted and packaged up as fun, amusement, and entertainment and,

ultimately, exploited for mercantile advantage (2009: 169). Perhaps just as notably, connecting

stories of execution and torture with ghost stories has the double effect of both acknowledging

death and dying, and confronting personal beliefs in the afterlife, even from a fun and

entertaining perspective.

The structure of the performance tour is reflective of some of John Urry’s ideas of

interdependent mobilities (2007). The first is characterised by physical travel, where tourists are

moved within the landscape. In this instance, movement is through the physical city of

Edinburgh, where the surrounding past buildings contributes to the atmosphere of storytelling

and the urban setting is presented as a deathscape. The physical act of migration is motivated by

their participation in the spectacle of death. The city becomes a backdrop for the various “stages”

where tourists are able to observe and listen to stories pertaining to execution or torture.

Perhaps more significant on performance tours than physical travel is Urry’s idea of

imaginative travel, where tourists recreate the scenes guides describe within their own mental

pictures. The imaginings are enhanced by the geography of the city, which forces participants to

envision a past cityscape and culture which there is little remaining evidence of in the present

space. Chris Wilbert and Rikke Hansen refer to this as performative articulation, where the

distinctions between modernity and the mental representations of the past space blur or break

down (2009: 188). The tourist experience is almost entirely generated through their own mental

interpretations and experiences. These personal memories are reinforced by movement through

the city, in an imagined visualisation of the place, and finally bolstered by the melodramatic

performance of the guides (Dale and Robinson, 2011: 212). Edinburgh comes to life for the

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tourist by way of their representational and mental realities which fill in the gaps where the

modern city and its historical past intersect. The tourist’s physical movement through the city is

made more significant by their imagined journey. The mental pilgrimage of the tourist merges

the formation between the past space and the present space, reinforced through the feelings and

emotions that rise from the tour performances. This forces the tourist to conjure what Michael

Mayerfeld Bell refers to as the ghosts of place, images of past historical residents who

contributed to the phenomenology of a location that continues to be reflected in how the

community is experienced by visitors (1997: 828). The spectral aspect of the city is then

propagated by the tourist; the tour becomes a mental odyssey as well as a physical one. All of

this is deliberately encouraged within the context of a performance ghost tour. Below is one such

descriptive example of those who lived in the vaults:

Imagine what it would have been like in 18th century down here in the vaults. The bridge
was not created to be watertight, and this being Edinburgh it rained quite often. Water
seeped through the stones and the conditions down here worsened. Soon the legal traders
moved out; when they moved out, the nasty people moved in. There were criminal gangs
down here, murderers down here, poor desperate people escaping the Edinburgh weather.
There were body snatchers who used the place to store the corpses they intended to sell . .
. the Edinburgh vaults were home to not very good people, indeed . . .
The tragicomic language used during the tour is integral to constructing a vivid past

landscape, a mental picture of the criminal underbelly of Edinburgh life. Though the physical

evidence of its past has long since vanished, guides evoke vibrant images of the past, forcing

tourists to mentally recreate them and entwine them with their own experiences and associations

between images (Lippard, 1999: 126). While historical accounts of the tour are successful in

creating the imagery of past calamities, ghost stories are what unquestionably seize the

imagination; and makes the seemingly invisible visible (Gordon, 1997: 199). It is unmistakably

plain how the tour forces the individual to process their own feelings, by reconstructing the
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Edinburgh landscape (and its ghosts) through the filter of their own beliefs, cultural background,

and personal experiences. This phenomenon begins by the manner in which tours acknowledge

and confront the taboo of death through storytelling. Narratives of fear, gore and torture are

simple tactics used to ramp-up the experience, where the opulent urban landscape is the sum of

its dark past (Stone, 2009: 168).

Perhaps just as significant is how the tour unilaterally solidifies the notion of death as

other, as well as reinforcing this viewpoint through the use of ghost stories. Tony Seaton (2009)

argues that this is a purposeful otherness, whereby sites of death within the realm of dark tourism

are perceived as sacred spaces, entirely separated from a past profane world (85). One could

argue that performance tours both embrace and break otherness. Otherness is broken by the

tour’s use of profane spaces to stage live re-enactments and recreations of scenes of death

through storytelling and audience participation. Death is therefore presented as entertainment –

something solely within the realm of the profane – and further acknowledged by presenting an

historical Edinburgh in which death and torture was unquestionably commonplace. In this sense,

the tour story creates a past/present dynamic in their tales of the Mercat Cross. They vividly

describe the historical Edinburgh mob that took profound pleasure in watching the public

execution of criminals, an image made more conspicuous as the present tourists recreate the

spectacle. The urban landscape with the mob represents the profane, where the taboo of death has

been completely shattered, and is then rewoven into a spectacle for the benefit of the tour

audience.

In contrast, the otherness of death is embraced and preserved through the use of ghost

stories. Ghost stories are primarily detailed within the vaults, which has been bestowed the

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distinction of being a sacred space through the use of candlelight; an emphasis on thresholds;

their use as a temple for spells and witchcraft (in the case of the Auld Reekie vaults); and in the

use of spiritualist mediums who can communicate with the renown spirits.46 The interplay

between profane and sacred imagery creates an intersection of the past and present, and in which

the realm of the living and the dead are forever linked. The landscape created for the tourist,

then, is primarily imaginative in that tourists are encouraged to visualise both a historical place

and the past residents which now are purported to haunt it.

The Edinburgh Mob: The Role of the Tourist and the Public Spectacle of Torture Scenes

It’s the 17th century here in the city of Edinburgh, and you are the Edinburgh mob . . .

With the setting made clear, the role tourists are to play is communicated at the very start

of the walk: they given the role of the “Edinburgh Mob,” in reference to the crowds that gathered

at public spectacles of punishment to boo, hiss, and throw food at criminals punished at the

Mercat Cross. The story of the two men who were tortured at the stone relic is re-enacted for the

tourist audiences; two volunteers are chosen to be the criminals and replay the scene to the

amusement and entertainment of their peers. The cat o’ nine tails that would have been used for

the historic torture is a plastic recreation, pulled out by the guide as she recounts the story to the

46
Topics discussed in Chapters 1 and 4, respectively.

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crowd. The audience is instructed to count as the guide – in the role of torturer – playfully lashes

the two volunteers lightly with the whip, twenty times in total at the count of the other tourists.

As the Edinburgh mob, your counts only grow louder as the men scream. Each scream draws

cheers; each bout of silence draws boos and hisses.

As the counts from the crowd grow louder, those passing by on the street stop to listen.

The torture scene becomes a performance acted out for public consumption. Stone (2009)

describes the tours as having “strategically deployed taboo subjects and commercially exploited

macabre and tragic history . . . Nihilistic narratives of fear, death, horror, and violence . . . are

celebrated and (re)created through mimesis, kitsch and pastiche representations” (185). In the

case of performance tours, the unique experience offers a very casual look at death – not just

through stories of the paranormal, but in the interplay between fun and the macabre, death and

torture, living and dead.

This creates an environment whereby the tourist is not solely viewing the spectacle; they

become part of creating it. Fellow tourists eagerly snap photos of the action, and film the

spectacle to share with their friends and family. It is significant that performance tours are

partially structured around the play, participation of the tourist, and the reaction from their

friends and family in the audience. This paradigm constructs an active role for the tourist, a

reflection of Chris Rojek’s argument that “most tourists feel they have not fully absorbed a sight

until they stand before it, see it, and take a photograph to record the moment” (1997: 58). By

recording the performance, they capture the memory and unique experience of participating in

street theatre, and being a key part of the walk itself. This is a break in the traditional type of

commercial entertainment where tourists are passive observers who follow the guide from

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location to location. Videos and snapshots of the performance become something different

among the standard holiday photographs, a contrast to what Michael Haldrup and Jonas Larsen

state in their description of vacation photography, that it is “part of the ‘theatre’ that enables

modern people to enact and produce their desired togetherness, wholeness and intimacy” (2006:

283). Photos of tourist activity on performance tour document the unexpected – the tourist’s role

as part of the spectacle – and the novelty of breaking away from the usual staged, intended

snapshot.

Photography and video shots are a way for tourists to internalise and make sense of the

unfamiliar space created by the walks. Larsen (2012) argues that tourist photography is an

“embodied and creative performance ‘full of life’ that produces memories, social relations and

places”. The use of photography and video during the ghost walks gives the participant the

ability to relive that moment repetitiously within their own lives. In this instance, the camera is

what Alfred Gell refers to as “magical technology” which “consists of representing the technical

domain in enchanted technology form” (1994: 59). Photo-taking — the act of production —

becomes a key mechanism to social production within tourist space. Through photography and

performance, the tour is shared and remembered as a unique experience, made more significant

through positive interactions with other tourists. This communitas is fleeting, with the only

commonality between individuals is that they shared the ghost walk. However, photography and

video creates permanent memories of these fleeting interactions and human bonding through the

performance.47

47
I will elaborate more on this point later in the chapter.

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 The tourist also plays a part in contextualising the location for others as well, in the sense

that the performance becomes a kind of street theatre: “. . . such acts rarely take place on a single

stage, but happen in the interplay between several different stages on which cultural memories

are played out, thereby shaping the meaning-making processes at play within these walks”

(Wilbert and Hansen, 2009: 197). The act of participation is one method by which Mercat Tours

markets their walks: “The best way to enjoy our grim, grisly and ghostly past is to hear it as our

ghoulish ancestors…the infamous ‘Edinburgh mob’ loved the ‘entertainment’ of blood, guts and

gore.” (“Ghosts and Ghouls”, n.d.). These macabre visuals are a unique way the tour is packaged

and sold. Personal experiences allow tourists the ability to fill in the mental and informational

gaps presented by tourist imagery. The overall experience of being part of the public

performance influences the way tourists not only identify with a place, but recreate it mentally.

The Tourist Experience As a Rite of Passage

The ritualistic aspects of tourism parallel certain rights of passage. Mobility (as discussed

earlier), becomes a break from homogeneity, the mundane. The surroundings are a liminal world

of past/present spaces made more significant by the act of performance, where the migration

through the city and the vaults are a “constant movement between ordinary and sacred places”,

which include ritual behaviour of communitas (Franklin, 2003: 150). Van Gennep (1960) asserts

that there are three phases to the rights of passage that are closely connected. In separation (pre-

liminal phase), the individual is disconnected from their conventional, familiar environment to

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undergo trials or ceremonies as part of a ritual. Next is the transition phase (liminal), in which the

individual is considered to be in an in-between state; they are not part of the society they once

belonged to, yet they have not been reintrograted back into their familiar home society. The last

phase is reincorporation (post-liminal), in which the person is reintegrated into their home

society, changed by the experience of transition. They either resume their former cultural role, or

accept a new one depending on the significance and intention of their transitory experience.

Victor Turner appropriated Van Gennep’s pre-liminal/liminal/post-liminal phases in his

book The Ritual Process (1969) to apply to a pilgrimage, and later to performance in From Ritual

to Theatre (1982). He describes the phases of initiation as a physical journey, a “parallel passage

in space, a geographical movement from one place to the other” (25). For Turner, the liminal

process involves both “episodes in sacred space-time” as well as “subversive and ludic events”

(ibid: 27). Erik Cohen and Chaim Noy (2005) note that Turner’s descriptions of initiation share

many similarities to tourism, in that tourism is reflective of both the performative and journeying

processes of transition. The tourist leaves the familiarity of their home (pre-liminal), and

commences travel to an unfamiliar environment (liminal), surrounded by those experiencing the

same transitory experience (communitas), and return home to be reincorporated into their own

familiar society (post-liminal). Cohen and Noy posit that in order for the rite of passage to be

effective, it “has to be physically accomplished in the strangeness of the host environment. . .”

(256).

In keeping with Cohen’s idea of tourism as an initiation event, I would argue that

performance tours can represent their own liminal transition and rite of passage within the

overall tourist experience. For the tourist, the familiar, preliminal space is their place of stay

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(hotel, hostel, or bed and breakfast), which is symbolic of a home space (pre-liminal). While

travelling, tourists bring items that are familiar with them, their clothing and certain objects

considered vital to their every day mundane experience. Their lodging becomes a safe home base

within unfamiliar territory. They travel to an unfamiliar environment to commence the walking

tour. The liminal experience commences with the significant act of walking through the city; then

proceeding into the underground vault. This migration mirrors the liminal elements as described

by Turner through 1) physical movement; 2) historical ambiance of an unfamiliar city; and 3) by

internalising tales of scandalous past experiences which are verbally relayed throughout the tour.

Pile references the phantasmagoria of a city and describes the act of manoeuvring though

the crowded streets and the means by which it “invokes the importance not only of what can be

seen, of the experience of the immediate, but also of life beyond the immediately visible or

tangible” (2005: 3). Through the tour’s interworking of a past-present dynamic, tourists are

compelled to visualise, mentally reconstruct, and imagine the stories told on the tour. This

process is transitional in that it creates a symbiotic relationship between the realms of the living,

the tourist, and that of the dead. Turner’s idea of liminality within subversive events plays out

when the participant is encouraged to become part of the “Edinburgh Mob”, which entails

participating in a shared theatre structure. Playing the role of the mob is an organised

communitas, an opportunity of for tourists to experience the past coming to life through group

performance. More than that, it creates a situation whereby persons are forced to regard their

own feelings about death and an afterlife as they internalise ghost stories.

Turner’s second idea of the liminal phase (sacred time-space) is reflected by the

movement into the vaults. The threshold into the vaults marks a tonal shift within the tour

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structure, where the audience sheds its previous role as “Edinburgh Mob”. The vaults act as

another threshold, a continuing liminal state of the initiatory process. It represents a boundary

that Piret Pungas and Ester Vosu (2012) describes as a “hybrid environment” (88), which is due

to its status as an in-between place where history/modernity and living/dead are both emphasised

by the guides.

The postliminal phase of the tourist’s journey begins upon exiting the vaults. The tourist

is returned to the aboveground city, back into its ordinary everydayness without. Their journey

becomes regrounded within their place-of-stay as the symbolism of home. While this aspect of

the initiatory process is a short one, photography and videography are vital aspects reliving the

liminal environment. Photos and video are a souvenir symbolic of the journey, a method used to

connect the tourist with the experience and memories of a location. Robinson and Picard (2009)

note the “auratic power” captured moments possess, and that they are a specific object which

“encapsulate[s] the power and mystical energies associated with places, people, or presences and

to transport [the tourist] from one place to the other” (21). Photographs and video taken on

performance tours have the power of capturing the sense of communitas built through group

performance. When looked at or replayed at a time in the future, they can take a tourist back to

their transitory experience. There is a sense of “magic” to photographs because the object itself is

liminal; it is a window to a specific place, time, and setting – a memory captured and able to be

replayed at will. In this sense, it “captures the spirit of a place . . . imbue[d] with the power of the

original place visited” (ibid: 11). Picard and Robinson argue that the enchanted quality of the

photograph is a means through which “technology is able to transport some essence of a place to

another without losing its material authenticity” (ibid). Photography is a means through which

tourists can perpetually consume and mentally replay their liminal journey.
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 Perspectives on Authenticity

I. Discussions of Authenticity and How Paranormal Events Emphasise Authenticity of

Emotion

A dominant theme in tourist literature is the concept of authenticity, which is the

construction of the tourist environment through recognisable elements of the culture they are

visiting. This idea is particularly significant to aspects of dark tourism (and ghost tourism by

extension) thanks to how the notion of authenticity addresses the potentially problematic

commercialisation of a place where death and tragedy occurred in the past. However,

authenticity is a broad term that encompasses a number of different subjects. John Urry wrote

that “the search for authenticity is too simple a foundation for explaining contemporary tourism.

There are multiple discourses and processes of the ‘authentic’” (1990: 11). Discussions of

authenticity and tourism have certainly come a long way from Daniel Boorstin’s arguments that

tourism thrived on “inauthentic, contrived attractions” and that tourists “gullibly [enjoy] the

‘pseudo-events’ and [disregard] the real world outside” (Boorstin cited in Urry 1990, 10).

However, authenticity is a subject which frequently comes up in literature for paranormal tours

(Inglis and Homes, 2003; Stone, 2009; Hill, 2011), especially with regards for its propensity for

kitsch and spectacle. I would be remiss if I did not address authenticity in a chapter on tours as
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performance, particularly when Scottish otherness is propagated the tour’s entwining of the

capital’s history with ghost stories. For this section, I intend to address authenticity in terms of

tour structure, and tourist motivation.

For ghost tours, performance certainly brings an element of artificiality to its

representation of history; the walk is a staged event which is highly dramatic and purposely

scripted as such. However, solely focusing on the entertainment tours overlooks the personal

emotions and fear responses that arise from ghost stories. Even performance tours have moments

that evoke emotion, such as what this tourist describes:

The sense of history in the underground vaults was palpable and as Rob described how
hundreds of people were packed in as the fire above slowly baked them I could almost
feel the bodies crushing against me despite there being nobody close by (Merritt, 2012).48
Annette Hill (2011) describes ghost tours as sensory journeys, an experience which the

tourist is forced to confront in semi-darkness, lit only by candlelight, while listening to stories

pertaining to mass death, murder, and hauntings. Hill regards this aspect of the ghost tour to be

significant due to its emphasis upon personal emotions, and in how it stresses the importance of a

more individual, unique experience (101). Ghost tours apply to her idea of the “double

articulation” of authenticity (112), that it is both material and symbolic: material is evident

through personal testimonials of tourist experiences within the vaults, and symbolic of the doubt

that comes with claims made within the context of tour performance.

It could be argued that Hill’s assertion of double articulation perfectly exemplifies Urry’s

claims of just how ambiguous authenticity is. With respect to ghost tours, I find that Ning

Wang’s (1999) nuanced distinction of authentic ideas to be significant to the emotive and

48
Quoted verbatim.

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performative contrasts within ghost tours. Wang differentiates authenticity into two separate,

distinct categories: the tourist experience (which encompasses their personal experiences and

feelings), and the tour itself. This distinction was also noted by Handler and Saxton, who argue

that authenticity is an aspect “in which individuals feel themselves to be in touch both with a

‘real’ world and with their ‘real’ selves” (1988: 243). The authors further expand upon this idea

in regards to performance, which they believe could create an “authenticity of experience” (ibid:

245).

Although performance tours are comprised of dramatically staged historical events hosted

purely for entertainment purposes: these restrictive elements should not be considered exclusive

criteria for branding any commodity as inauthentic. The inauthentic view of performance tours is

noted in Stone’s (2009) analysis of ghost tours and dungeon events. While he acknowledges that

they “cast light on otherwise unseen (taboo) subjects” such as death and the macabre, they also

celebrate these concepts through “mimesis, kitsch and pastiche representations”. Along the same

lines, Emma McEvoy argues that “[ghost tours lay] no claim to any idea of authenticity

whatsoever . . . [it does] not pledge ghosts; although it revels in bloody torture scenes……in fact

the only person to ask ‘when do we see the ghosts?’ was a five-year-old boy” (2014: 484).

However, McEvoy’s claims of the inauthentic nature of ghost tours do not take into

consideration that ghost tours highly suggest that paranormal experiences are not only possible,

but that past experiences within the tour locations are evidence of this authenticity:

An encounter with the poltergeist is the highlight of the tour, with hundreds of people
claiming to have been attacked by the entity. The MacKenzie Poltergeist is now regarded
as the best documented supernatural case of all time and the tour has become equally
famous – the subject of books as well as scores of television documentaries, newspaper
articles and websites. (“City of the Dead Haunted Graveyard Tour”, n.d.).
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 Hill notes that the success of the paranormal suggests a “strong narrative of spirits and

magic in society.” (2011: 1). Her observations exemplify the reasons tour advertisements leave

tourists open to the suggestion that paranormal activity is not only possible, but has happened to

them: “I have a unknown scratch on my arm i did feel a hotspot in the tomb at the graveyard and

something also touched me do you think it was the poltergeist?” (Crawford, 2012).49 The

paranormal industry heavily relies on tourist testimonials like these, word-of-mouth posts that

authenticate sites as haunted.50 Cohen (1988) cites the importance of the tourist’s role in

considering authenticity, as well as how they make sense of the site within the context of their

own experiences and beliefs (116). Certainly, the elements of amusement, entertainment and

spectacle ought to be addressed in a discussion of authenticity. However, ghost tours still prompt

tourists to examine death through their use of spectacle.

Believer events, which I will discuss in more depth later in this thesis, approach these

topics from an even more sombre standpoint that is intended to rouse emotion and sensory

experience. Of particular importance is tourist “self-evaluation”, described as examining one’s

own beliefs concerning death and the afterlife after experiencing disquieting macabre displays

and performances. Hill (2011) claims that within the context of paranormal beliefs “authenticity

is often articulated as true to the self and personal experience….paranormal belief [are]

instinctive interpretations of inexplicable phenomena” (114). Within group contexts, individuals

may be less likely to share strange personal experiences with other vault participants unless the

others are more likeminded individuals (ghost believers). However when participants physically

49
Quoted verbatim.
50
The subject of word-of-mouth (WOM) is discussed further in Chapter 6.

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feel spirits within the vault atmosphere; they are significantly more likely to verbally express

their experiences to other participants regardless of the group’s overall beliefs (Buell, 2010).

McEvoy’s analysis of ghost walks exemplifies the precarious nature of discussing

authenticity with this tour-type: it is easy to overlook the many idiosyncratic varieties of ghost

tours by grouping them together as a singular, encompassing type. There are ghost tours as well

as other events which encourage intense personal introspection, in which tourists believe they

have encountered spirits. In other events, tourists actively seek to engage with the supernatural

and prove the existence of ghosts. 51 In both respects, participants may experience unusual,

disquieting emotions which encourage them to contextualise the supernatural within their own

lives. Tony Seaton’s (1996) thoughts on what he calls thanatourism suggest that this type of

tourism is a behavioural phenomenon, which is made significant by visitor motivation rather than

the characteristics of the tour itself. Along the same lines, Britta Knudsen and Anne Waade

describe authenticity as “something experienced through the body, through performance . . .

authenticity becomes a feeling you can achieve. In tourism authenticity is a feeling you can

experience in relation to a place” (2010: 5) Therefore, authenticity with regards to ghost walks

should foremostly consider how the tourist experiences the event, and in the feelings it provokes.

51
I detail these other event types in Chapters 4 and 5.

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 II. Subverting Authenticity

While my above arguments make clear that I disagree with McEvoy’s (2014) arguments

that performance tours completely lack authenticity, I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge

the way they also subvert ideas of authenticity. In discussions of authenticity, the traditional

analysis involves the tourist journey as seeking out authentic (“real”), culturally significant

attractions. Performance tours present a unique subversion of traditional ideas of authenticity for

two primary reasons: 1) people co-perform and co-produce their individual and collective

experiences and 2) authenticity on ghost walks are entirely created and controlled by the tourist.

The paranormal industry regards authenticity as being an element which is entirely

dependent upon the thoughts and feelings generated by the tourist themselves. Sensory journeys,

as noted by Classen (1993), concern the legitimacy of heightened emotional responses. On ghost

tours, the sensory journey is generated by tourists; their feelings are further catalysed by personal

beliefs, which can be solidified and verified within the tour. Sue Jennings notes that “ritual,

drama, and theatre are all means of trying to describe the various forms of larger-than-life

representations involving dominant cultural symbols….and changes in role, in a designated

space apart.” (1995: 23). An example of the dominant cultural symbols associated with ghost

walks are torture, macabre, death, drama, and views of the afterlife. The “fun” and

“entertainment” aspects are ways in which tours acknowledge the seriousness of these particular

cultural topics which previously were considered taboo.

The subversion of authenticity is presented in the way performance tours present death

and the macabre as fun for the tourist, in a deliberate, conspicuous break from authenticity. Stone

(2009) refers to these types of events as an “amalgamation of kitsch artistic commodity and
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playful mirth” (173). These aspects of performance tours describe what Bryman (1999) refers to

as the Disneyization of tourism attractions. Crispin Dale and Neil Robinson explain that the

Disneyization in tourism “acknowledges that wider society has become increasingly

commercialised and orientated towards experiences that draw upon animation and recreation”

(2011: 208). Edinburgh ghost tours advertise their performance walks around the unique

experience of re-enacting macabre and death, and the commercialisation of the paranormal

through ghost stories. The staged performances of death and torture represent a break from the

homogeneity of the tourist experience as well as an interruption from authenticity. They

encapsulate the idea of Disneyization in how tourists gleefully pay for and participate in a

performative re-enactment of a macabre Edinburgh. The performance tour is strictly built around

the appeal of this theatrical framework. As one guide told me: This tour is meant to be an

entertaining bit of horror before supper. We tell the tales and try to get a few screams and scares

out. If we don’t, that’s what the fun is for.

The ways in which performance tours present death is a deliberate nod to inautheticity,

which is also significant in how the tour is initially framed for the tourist. The moment the guide

pulls out the plastic cat o’ nine tails is an intentional anachronism, as is the performance which

follows. The performance is a feature meant to evoke emotion within the tourist, a “sense of

shock, horror and revulsion” but where “unsafe ideas of taboo may be inspected up close up

through a morbid gaze” (Stone, 2009: 173) Part of the unique experience of the tour is in how

visitors participate in this anachronistic performance. The tour offers an opportunity to deviate

from the tourist’s own planned journey to participate in a street performance for strangers. In

doing so, it creates that sense of communitas which Turner describes as an “active opposition to

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social structure, as an alternative and more ‘liberated’ way of being socially human . . .” (1982:

51).

The performance is also an active opposition from authenticity. After all, the company's

own descriptions of the ghost walk promise fun and entertainment, and are a “presentation not of

actual history with its sober facts and figures, but of a deliberately grotesque and exaggerated

account of the past” (Inglis and Homes, 2003: 59). Despite the fun and entertainment that these

tours provide, they confront topics which are considered to be taboo. However, performance

tours discuss death in a way which is a metaphorical and temporal distance from where it

happened; there is no conspicuous evidence of death. Rather, death is an aspect of the

performative, where tourists are able to consume and act out macabre events while “acting as

receptacles of ‘highly charged’ ideas” (Stone, 2009: 189). Indeed, performance tours are

advertised as a dark sort of fun, attracting visitors seeking the entertainment of the macabre. As

McEvoy states, “Gothic tourists are indeed embodied creatures. They expect to encounter place

as performance, and often to perform within it” (2014: 483).

III. Hauntings as a Form of Authenticity

Ghost tours offer a different look at authenticity that I feel is equally important to

address: hauntings as a fundamental aspect of heritage. Death is deliberately and purposely

framed on performance tours in two ways: through death narratives (public executions and

torture) and through discussions of hauntings. Not only is the subject de-sequestered and

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dispelled as a taboo, the act of death and torture is presented as a spectacle through the torturous

scenes played out in street theatre. Through performance and storytelling, death is confronted,

staged, performed and recreated. Tony Seaton (1996) refers to such events as thanatoptic

presentations and suggests that “contemplation[s] of death” can make death “a highly normal

and present element in everyday life” (237). While performance tours contain ghost stories,

spectres are presented as a feature amid the cityscape, a connection between historical Edinburgh

and its present everydayness.

Narratives involving public execution and torture are what inevitably lead to a discussion

of Edinburgh as an uncanny city of spectres which still haunt its present inhabitants. In this

sense, ghosts are presented as a feature of Edinburgh, a key aspect of its cultural heritage: “It’s

really no surprise we’ve such a haunting legacy lingering upon our town…With true stories of

gruesome punishment and unsettled spirits, we'll give you a flavour of life, and death, in Old

Edinburgh” (“Ghostly Underground”, n.d.). Carrie Clanton notes that “ghosts are utilised in a

secular way by British tourists and heritage industries, supporting claims of historical

authenticity and the right to heritage status” (Clanton 2007: 1). The locations utilised on ghost

tours are significant due to their historical importance. However, the sites are presented to

tourists within the context of paranormal narratives, and with the conviction that past Edinburgh

residents continue to play a role within modern, physical spaces through hauntings. John Sabol

argues that ghost tourism is a special form of heritage tourism in that “it is an integration…and

an immersion into a past where a ghostly presence continues to ‘live’. This is a search for

authenticity” (Sabol 2009: 4). Although the ancient buildings are certainly utilised as an

atmospheric backdrop for ghost stories, the past and present cityscape is entwined with the

paranormal. Indeed, the presence of a haunting validates the site’s historical authenticity: “the
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places where ghosts are held to live out their spectral non-lives are constructed as being authentic

through the very presence of the ghost, which operates as a hallmark of the archaic nature of the

locale in question” (Inglis and Homes, 2003: 56). Ghosts and heritage are further connected

through advertisements and official Scottish tourism literature; Scotland.org even has a list of

“Spooky Places to Visit in Scotland” (2012) connects spectres to Scottish history:

Scotland’s murky past involved clan battles, hundreds of years of war with our near
neighbour England and the siege of grim looking castles in almost every part of the
country. Stories were told and traditions established. There are tales of ghosts, many of
whom were said to be the spirits of real people who died in tragic or horrific
circumstances. Of apparitions that appear at certain times of the night, or certain periods
of the year – perhaps when they were murdered. And of strange, eerie sounds that pierce
the chilled Scottish air. The hauntings seem to have no set boundaries. Ghosts have been
reported on bleak roads, in old theatres and ancient graveyards.
The purposeful, descriptive recreation of an historical Edinburgh and its peoples is juxtaposed

against its modern presence, where citizens of the past remain interactive within the present city

through hauntings. Ancient relics and buildings throughout Old Town are a conspicuous

representation of the past cityscape, while the tourist role as the “Edinburgh Mob” is symbolic of

its historic past through the act of spectacle. Together, they visually and emotionally immerse

visitors into the narrative of the uncanny, where the spirits of the dead are considered to be ever

present within the streets and vaults of the city.

The Desequestering of Death

Perhaps just as significant is how death becomes part of the public discourse through

performance tours. McEvoy notes that these tours are notable because of their communal aspect:
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“In contrast to many other modes of Gothic consumption, the experience of the Gothic tourist . . .

tends to be communal, and the tourists closely bonded together” (ibid, 484). Part of that

communal bonding is through the performance of death and acting as the “Edinburgh Mob.” In

discussing visitor motivation and participation on these tours, I think it is important to address

that some tourists are eager for dark experiences. Annette Hill (2011) attributes this desire as

similar to adrenaline-seekers, who find fun in experiencing the heightened emotion that comes

with fear. Seaton (1996) argues that people desire a closeness with death and “travel to a location

wholly, or partially, motivated by the desire for actual or symbolic encounters with death” (240).

He parses these types of travel into five different categories: visiting death sites for either

individuals or mass deaths; being a spectator at public enactments of death; viewing symbolic

representations of death; memorial sites; and to witness performances of death (ibid). He notes

that performance tours are a continuance of a “thanatopic tradition”, a contemplation with death

that plays out in public spectacles. Biographer James Boswell once reflected on his own

fascination with public hangings and wrote about his own attendance, stating: “I behold the

various effects of the near approach of death, according to the various tempers of the unhappy

sufferers, and by studying them I learn to quiet and fortify my own mind” (Boswell in Pottle,

1951: 345). In Boswell’s time, death was common and visible, as well as utterly familiar to those

who were among the throng at a public execution – the very historical period tourists act out in

performance tours.

In contrast to Boswell’s experiences where death is a very public and common

occurrence, Stone and Sharpley (2008) note that there is a modern sequestration of death. Where

it was once both visible and communal, death has become an aspect of private life, where there is

“increased uneasiness over the boundaries between the corporeal bodies of the living and the
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dead” (Turner, 1991: 229). The performance tour not only breaks down the social barriers that

maintain an absent/visible dynamic of death, it compartmentalises it in a way that is recreated

and performed by the tourist for the benefit of other tourists. Within these performances are three

crucial parts that parallel social role-playing: the performers (those re-enacting scenes of death);

the performed to (the other tourists on the walk); and those passing by who may glance at the

show but neither observe nor perform (Goffman, 1959: 144). Those participating in these roles

are witness to the de-sequestration of death in a public spectacle, presented for laughs and

entertainment. As Stone and Sharpley note, “. . . dark tourism allows the re-conceptualisation of

death and mortality into forms that stimulate something other than primordial terror and dread”

(2008: 585-586). Through performance tours create an ongoing dialogue where death is removed

from the realm of taboo and brought back into the social dialogue. In this manner, tourists can

contemplate mortality and deconstruct (and construct) their own beliefs of finitude.

The role of the ghost story should also be acknowledged in the context of the de-

sequestration of death. Gordon (1997) writes about the importance of hauntings, that “to study

social life, one must confront the ghostly aspects of it” (7). She also notes that studying ghosts

and hauntings confronts unsettling social ideas and beliefs of death and dying (23). The

narratives presented on the performance tour are an active way of interacting with death, as

audience members play the roles of deceased Edinburgh residents. Performance tours provide an

interaction between different aspects of Edinburgh’s past and its folklore, where the dead are

juxtaposed with loss, trauma and injustice (Pile, 2005: 162). The performance aspect is a

commentary on death, dying, and the macabre ghost stories acknowledge how these themes

connect to an afterlife. Through theatre, tourists can indulge their curiosity with deaths and

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hauntings in an atmosphere that is not only socially accommodating to morbid fascinations, but

celebrating of them.

Conclusion

As Stone and Sharpley argue, the de-sequestration of mortality brings “death into public

discourse” where it becomes a “communal commodity upon which to gaze.” Performance tours

are distinct in that they confront death as entertainment, spectacle, and performance. Ghosts

become a feature in the creation of a macabre past space, an aspect of the city’s landscape that

authenticates heritage sites. A significant aspect of performance tours is in how themes of

initiation play out within the structure. While other tours certainly have many parallels with rites

of passage, as well, performance tours incorporate Victor Turner’s (1969) ideas on the

performative quality involved within communitas. Turner notes that initiation is marked by both

sacred and subversive events, which play out on the performance tour through the incorporation

of both performance and the crossing of a threshold into the ghostly vaults. This is a process

which both breaks and embraces certain ideas of authenticity. While traditional approaches to

authenticity focus on the site itself in how culture, history, and heritage are presented to tourists,

it is equally important to consider the emotional impact of these sites. Though performance tours

already subvert authenticity by the way in which they present history (through the lens of the

macabre), the inclusion of hauntings has the capability of evoking emotion within the tourist.

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The sensory journey undergone by the tourist is vital when considering the paranormal,

especially the ways in which tours encourage contextualising mortality and death within our own

lives.

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 CHAPTER 4

The Mediumship: Spirit Communication and Creating a Ghostly Landscape

The mediumship is among the most covert, though largely influential, aspects of

Edinburgh’s ghost culture. Despite their importance to ghost investigations, it was not until I had

been in the field for a number of months that I was able to acquaint myself with those in the

mediumship and actually see them put their skills to use. I came to understand that they represent

an aspect of spiritual commoditisation that is not widely advertised to the casual tourist.

Meetings with mediums are very quietly made public on rare occasions through tourist

companies in Edinburgh, but spaces can only be reserved over the internet. Mediums will not

participate in any of the everyday walking tours; those are meant to appeal to visitors seeking

quick ghost tours as opposed to an evening with the spirits. As a medium named Mary (vignette

three, below) once told me, we’re not here for entertainment. We’re here to tell you all what’s

what.

Instead, their abilities and expertise remain reserved for visitors already deeply

entrenched in ghost culture: the more serious hobbyists, professional ghost hunters, and their

followers. In that regard, mediums play a significant role in aiding ghost hunters in their

explorations of haunted places, and some further market their skills to those already within the

ghost culture to help them get in touch with their lost loved ones.

Based on my observations, interviews, and interactions with different mediums, I began

to catalogue their abilities as well as how they interacted with both haunted spaces and the

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tourists attending events. Every medium had different abilities and ways of communicating with

spirits, and they each had their skills manifest at different times throughout their lives. Lenore, a

medium with the Spiritualist Church of Edinburgh, claimed that most of the mediums she knew

generally had their abilities manifest in childhood, but never in the same way. Some claimed they

always had it. Others said it was a gift passed through their family for generations. Most had it

show up after severe emotional or physical trauma, and a few claimed they simply woke up with

it one day. The mediums I spoke with who belonged to the Spiritualist Church believed in the

Christian God and regarded their abilities as a gift granted by the divine to both guide them and

allow them to offer help to those who cannot personally communicate with the other side. As

Lenore says: We are picked by God to communicate with those in the spirit world and help

deliver their messages to the living.

A medium’s status and influence in Edinburgh’s ghost culture is driven, ultimately, by

their ability to create effective links between the spirits haunting a place or person, and in

conveying messages that make sense in a personal or historic context. To gain their reputation, a

potential medium will go through training under a qualified superior, one well-known within the

ghost culture. As they train, their status within the community grows as they are able to make

successful connections between the spirit world and that of the living. A medium’s ability to

effectively communicate with spirits is how investigators vet those they hire to work in

paranormal investigations, and becomes the reason people in the Spiritualist community

continuously return to reconnect with deceased loved ones.

Not all mediums have the same roles within Edinburgh’s ghost community. I have

interacted with two types during my fieldwork: those who participate in paranormal

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investigations in the field (they become an essential part of ghost investigation groups, who

travel throughout the country on their explorations), and those who communicate with spirits for

private, paid functions. I have found many in the latter line of work to be involved with the

Spiritualist Church. The Edinburgh Spiritualist Church fundamentally follows the basic tenants

of Christianity, but where it differs is in the focused belief that uncertainty toward death creates

spiritual malaise and discomfort. By actively conjuring spirits, Spiritualism offers “empirical

evidence of a tangible life after death, [is] able to account for, bind, or control the last and most

feared frontier – death – thereby giving [people] a sense of control over the shifting reality of the

here and now” (Williams-Hogan, 2013: 64). Members of the Spiritualist Church consisted of

mediums, sensitives, and people without the ability to sense spirits at all, but are seeking answers

about the afterlife. In contrast, many of the mediums who participated in ghost investigations did

not belong to the Spiritualist Church at all, but followed Pagan practices. Pagan mediums

believed themselves to blessed by the Goddess.52 Though the mediums I spoke with did not

necessarily belong to the same religion, they held many similarities in regards to their abilities.

The core belief for both groups is that in being chosen (by possessing the gifts of a medium) it is

their duty and responsibility to fulfil their purpose and offer advice to the living through visions

from spirits on the other side.

Though the differences in a medium’s role and abilities are apparent in the vignettes that I

detail in this chapter, the most distinct contrast between mediums is in their methods. The

52
Interestingly, I did not meet any mediums who identified as atheist. Even those who considered themselves non-
religious believed their gift to be granted by a higher power.

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mediums with the Spiritualist Church53 tended to approach spirit communication from a more

personal standpoint. The communication is about families, uniting loved ones, and reassuring the

living that a spiritual connection exists on the other side and will resume after death. Mediums of

this type are aware of potential future events, as dictated to them by the person’s spirit family.

The mediums involved in paranormal investigations54 participated in vigils organised by

investigators in haunted spaces. Their role was to indicate which rooms had the most paranormal

activity and to communicate with spirits who have not – or who have been unable to – cross

over. The way they practice mediumship does not involve putting individuals in touch with a

spirit family or lost loved ones. Their approach is often in combination with the other tools of

ghost investigations.55

The difference between these two types of medium practices is quite distinct: 1) involves

a form of spirit communication in front of an audience; the medium communicates with and

interprets messages given by spirits; 2) combines both spirit communication (through the

medium) and scientific applications (ghost investigation tools). While the ghost hunting aspect of

a vigil is described and analysed more in depth in the next chapter, I am combining these two

types of mediumship techniques in this chapter because they both seek a common goal: spirit

communication for the benefit of paying customers.

53
My interviews with the mediums belonging to the Spiritualist Church were less involved than with Pagan
mediums. The Spiritualist Church dictates a certain level of religious inclusiveness that I was unable to intrude upon
unless I became a member. I saw a few use their abilities (the first vignette in this chapter), but the others would
have required more payment.
54
Often those who participated in investigations were Pagan or non-religious mediums.
55
Detailed in Chapter 5.

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 Spirit Communication with Lenore: Creating the Emotional Link Between the Living and

the Dead

After some months of living in Edinburgh, I had spent a large portion of my time

focusing my research on the city’s ghost tours. Then I saw the first public advertisement for spirit

communication in the vaults: it was to be moderated by a medium, with only a set number of

spaces available for those looking to attend. For a fee, private vigils (without mediums) can be

arranged at any time with the ghost tour companies, but it is a rare occasion indeed when spirit

communication with a medium becomes open to the public.

On a particularly cold September night, I attended the advertised meeting. It was the first

time I had ever sought out a medium in Edinburgh, and I knew very little about the mediumship

and how involved it was in the more serious aspects of ghost investigations. At the time, I went

out of sheer curiosity – after all, it was an aspect of ghost culture that I had yet to experience.

Even after months of research, it had simply not occurred to me to include mediums in my

fieldwork, as I had been concentrating more strictly on Edinburgh’s walking tours. However, as

any anthropologist in the field is aware, interests in research shift or evolve with time and

experience. I was determined to explore different aspect of ghost culture, as well as break from

the repetition of walking tours.

Admittedly, I had many preconceived ideas of what spirit communication would entail.

Before that first meeting, my background knowledge on the subject had been limited to my

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research on the history of Spiritualism from the 19th and early 20th centuries. I could not help but

picture the Victorian-era séance, and the aggrandised photographs and advertisements of floating

furniture and tipping tables.56 My readings on the practices (and in many cases, deceptions) of

Victorian era mediums had biased my opinion of the present-day medium before I had even

spoken with one. Of course, those were sensationalised publications and quite far from the real

thing, or at least what I experienced that night.

The meeting room was in a vault just below street level in Cowgate, Edinburgh. It

smelled musty, as if the rainwater had seeped into the bricks it was built out of. The walls were

covered in tapestries, hung loosely by pins that depicted various floral designs. Fake spider-

webbing, the kind one might purchase around Halloween, had been spread thinly around the

electric candelabras hanging throughout the room. The temperature in there was brisk, the air

slightly damp. Candles had been placed on each table, and firelight flickered in the glass holders.

I took my seat next to a young couple who were whispering among themselves. Our

group, eight in total, was an eclectic mix of young and old, male and female. A lone gentleman

took a seat quietly beside me; him and me the only two singles in the room. The two elderly

gentlewomen on the far side of the room looked alike enough to be sisters. A middle aged

woman sat with a younger man across from me. And to my left, two very young women –

perhaps my age, or possibly younger – sat huddled together for warmth.

The medium entered the room and introduced herself. I do not know what I had expected

her to look like; perhaps dressed in a cloak, as the tour employees always are. On the tour circuit,

56
See: Chapter 1.

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any event can go one of two ways: a dramatisation, put on for the entertainment and fun of the

customers – which are generally marked by costumes and use of vivid speech and imagery; or an

utterly serious exploration into spiritualism and ghost investigation, meant to appeal to believers

and hobbyists, respectively. The medium – Lenore, she requested I call her – was dressed

casually in jeans and a sweatshirt, a pink knitted scarf hanging loosely around her neck. She was

confident and soft-spoken as she chatted with the tour employees in the mere minutes we had

before the event began.

There was nothing about her manner of dress which indicated this meeting was to be an

outright performance for our amusement. I believe this is an important distinction I should make

for this thesis, as one of the first things I realised was that I had misinterpreted this event

beforehand. I had expected it to resemble some of the walking tours in its dramatic theatrics.

This marked contrast to the performance tours was the same for all of my meetings with

mediums, and for every vigil I frequented: the attendees were not there for the theatre. These

were individuals who had not purchased their places on a whim, but had booked sometimes

months in advance, and the meetings always filled within a few days of being announced.

That is why, as I sat in the room with the others, I had the immediate, uncomfortable

sense – one I still struggle to describe – that everyone had a very personal reason to be there.57

Perhaps it was because they all waited with such blatant expectation. The emotions in the room

were serious, far more sober than what I had come to expect from an event provided by a tour

company. I felt, rather keenly, as if I did not belong. No one there acknowledged my presence or

57
Though I had not had the time beforehand to ask. However, as the medium conducted her personal readings, my
assumptions were confirmed.

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noticed me in any particular way; it was simply an awareness, and an immediate sense, that

everyone else was there to communicate with someone they had lost. There was a shared

camaraderie there – after all, belief in spirituality thrives in part from bereavement, which

becomes intensified in a group setting (Hazelgrove, 2000: 13). People who gather to

communicate with spirits are there for more than just performance, but to obtain answers from

the person they lost, if that person’s spirit lives on, and whether they will be reunited in an

afterlife (Korom, 2013).

Everyone there was connected by loss and grief, and through the mutual desire to make

contact with the other side for reconnection with a loved one. It became a narrative space for

shared memories of the dead, and a communal affirmation of life beyond death. As Lenore said, I

am here to give you guys the messages, not the other way around, and to give evidence of

survival from this life to the next.

Lenore later told me about how she came to be a medium. She had been working as a

medium for more than 20 years, not as a baby in the crib like many others, but from a young age.

She claimed it was like a lightning bolt for her, that she eventually had to accept in her heart that

she was a medium, and that the spirit world was there. It opens up so many doors, it’s

unbelievable. I could just see everything more clearly, connect with people in a way I had never

been able to before. From then on, mediumship had been her primary employment, and she now

works for the Spiritualist Church. The majority of her time is spent communicating with the

spirit world and conveying their messages to living friends and relatives. Lenore senses entire

spirit families, sometimes even distant relatives. They tell her of their living memories, and

sometimes give her symbolic visions of potential future events.

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 Her first message was for the two gentlewomen sitting across from me; she spoke directly

to one of the women, who wore a red jumper:

There is a gentleman who just came in for you from the spirit world. He is walking about

the vaults holding a pocket watch, and he keeps checking his pocket watch. This gentleman was a

timekeeper when he was living. The watch is quite detailed, with really nice little carvings on it.

And I feel like there is something significant to the watch. Do you understand what I’ve given

you? The woman nodded. There is a living family connection to this watch. I see it – if you were

to face a dresser in a bedroom, it would be in the top drawer, or in the second drawer on the

right hand side. This is something you can look into . . . Is there a link in Canada? He was from

Canada. Was he in the services, as well? Because he just did a solute there. The woman nodded

again. He just looked up and he’s smiling at you. There is a lot of love he’s giving you from the

spirit world. Not all of your family got to say goodbye to this man. And that was sadness on its

own. He is saying that it’s not the last memories that count, but the memories before that that

were important. Did you not have some old photographs out recently? The woman indicated yes.

He is saying that he was in some of those photographs. He’s saying what a rare night that was,

and he remembers it like it was yesterday.

I was surprised at how sad the woman was, that she immediately looked to be on the

verge of tears, but did not cry. What Lenore created in her spiritual readings is a form of

metaphysical deathscape, visions that tie the living to memories and objects left by the dead

which have apparently been carried over into an afterlife. Deathscapes are used in ghost tourism

to draw attention and meanings to a space and its former inhabitants, but Lenore is recreating it

in the form of a mental space, evoking emotions and deeper memories to stir an intensity of

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emotion (Maddrell and Sidaway, 2010). The meaning of Lenore’s messages, and the symbols and

places she describes, are anchored to the living person. Sometimes the messages she delivered

were incorrect in some way, or not understood by the person she was speaking with, but there

was a theme to her messages: the spirits almost always had an object with them, something

significant to their living selves. Lenore’s descriptions of meaningful objects triggered the most

emotional responses from people in the room, such as when she connected to a spirit looking to

communicate with the woman sitting next to me:

There is a man here with you, and he’s been a bit impatient this whole time, arguing with

me to get to you. This man has charisma, a wicked sense of humour. He would be from your

father’s side. And when he passed into the spirit world, the whole family was devastated. It

wasn’t something he was expecting either, and he wants me to tell you that. It was very sudden.

This man would have had a false leg. Does that sound familiar to you? My grandfather had a

false leg. I see him clicking it off, putting it to the side of him, and clicking it back on again. And

he used to do that quite a lot, didn’t he? To get the noise and to get people’s attention. Do you

know a story about something being hidden in that leg? My dad told me he used to hide his toys

in there. He’s just loving this. And he did love to tease people terribly about his false leg and had

a lot of fun with it. He’s saying that it did cause him a bit of discomfort where the leg connected.

He would say that it chafed, and the height wasn’t quite right, so he walked with a limp. There

was some debate over whether it should go with him, wasn’t there? The woman nodded. I

honestly don’t know if it did or it didn’t, but that’s irrelevant. He is telling me that he has both

legs now. Because when the physical part of the body is missing, the part of the soul remains,

and that’s what continues on in the spirit world.

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 It may be entirely possible that the women Lenore so accurately conveyed messages to

were plants put in the room to lend credence and authenticity to her visions. It may also be

possible that Lenore is exceptionally adept at reading people, observing the intensity of their

reactions to her statements and then formulates guesses and hypotheses on the relationships

between the deceased and the audience member (Turner 1974: 240). Perhaps I should note, for

disclosure, that when Lenore read for me, she was astonishingly accurate about my ancestral

roots, if not for the fact that I have never lost a relative close to me. She immediately sensed my

strong connections to the United States, specifically the West. An interpretation that is entirely

true, as I am from California and have family that range from Idaho into the Pacific Coast states.

For further disclosure: at this point, I had not spoken to Lenore at all. Indeed, I had not spoken to

anyone there – not the employees, or any of the other attendees. My ticket had been acquired

over the internet using a Scottish bank card, so no personal details had been provided.

While it can be easy for a sceptic such as myself to speculate on this, I will not doubt or

attempt to disprove Lenore’s – or any other medium – visions here. In writing about the

mediumship and the visions presented by the mediums in this chapter, my intent is simply to

explore the anthropological scope, functions, and themes they convey. Lenore’s visions, for

instance, all included a familial link to the spirit world. Through her visions, Lenore attempted to

recreate a sense of kinship, one which had potentially been severed by death. If gravestones and

cemeteries are symbols of the finality of death (Francis, Kellaher, Neophytou, 2005: 177), then

spirit communication eliminates finality and replaces it with possibility: the possibility that one’s

kin lingers on a bridge between life and death, simply waiting for their family to join them. Even

if Lenore’s visions wavered to something inexplicit and unclear (I see a young man waiting in

the spirit world for you . . .), she establishes an easy way for people to fill any gaps with their
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own memories and their own interpretations. This allow for an ongoing relationship between the

living and the dead, one that is reinforced and restructured and entirely conveyed through those

memories (Francis, Kellaher, Neophytou, 2005: 177).

In Lenore’s vision for me, she saw an older man, one attempting to spread a blanket about

my shoulders. The blanket was of rough material, overused and dirty. It matched his appearance

– that of an old, weathered man who had clearly worked out of door his entire life. I considered

the way objects played such an important role in her visions: the blanket for me, the pocket

watch for the woman in the red jumper, and the false leg for the woman sitting across from me.

They were objects and symbols representing the former life of the deceased, something

significant about who they were. The visions formed a metaphysical link between the dead and

their living kin, promoting the idea that the living are protected and looked after by a spirit

family. This is reflective of the Spiritualist Church’s beliefs on the nature of the afterlife, that

“the passing into the next world [is] merely a gradual diminishing of the old early life and a slow

awakening into something new” (Byrne, 2010: 85). The Spiritualist (1869) claimed that when a

spirit awakes into consciousness, it arrives to an assemblage of family and friends who were

waiting on the other side (Spiritualist quoted in ibid).

In Lenore’s metaphysical landscape, a product of the Spiritualist Church’s tenants, one’s

family of spirits are there to protect those they love from evil (including evil spirits) and guide

them until they meet again in an afterlife. Spirits do not linger out of being unable to cross over,

but because they are waiting for their living family to join them. This is a stark contrast to views

of the other mediums I share in this chapter, who speak of spirits trapped between worlds – those

who are either unaware of death, or who interact with (and occasionally harm) the living.

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 Lenore’s interpretation follows an idea of spiritual rebirth, one where a family exists in

the profane and is later reborn in the land of the sacred (Eliade, 1987: 196). Death becomes not

just about finality, but a shedding of what Mircea Eliade calls the profane condition. Rather than

a cessation of existence, death is a form of rebirth. In Spiritualism, there is the idea that dying is

an end to ignorance, bodily compulsions and lack of control. When one dies, they are reborn into

freedom, a blissful experience of awareness, of an ultimate, transcendent reality of liberation. In

that landscape, a body can become whole (the spirit who had regained the use of both of his

legs), and they shed what is unnecessary for spirithood. Death is an emergence into the sacred, a

form of initiation into a greater, more divine condition. According to Lenore, in that afterlife is a

family, living in an exalted state of existence where they are aware of the past, present, and

future, and where they simply wait for the rebirth of their living kin.

On Vigils: Their Connection to Ancient Traditions and Sacred Time, Liminal and

Liminoid Experiences

A vigil is an event hosted by Edinburgh’s tour companies that begins at midnight and

runs until 5-6AM. It is advertised as aiming to observe and record paranormal activity, both with

the aid of ghost investigation gadgets58 and under the guidance of a medium to interpret any

messages or spiritual presence. Vigils in the vaults occur in the weeks around both October 31

58
See: Chapter 5.

152
and May 1, a schedule that ties it distinctly to Celtic and superstitious ideas surrounding those

particular dates.

Halloween is referred to in Celtic traditions as Sham-in, meaning Baal’s Fire. It is a

significant date in Celtic legends as a night when people attempted to make contact with the

spirits of the dead (Napier, 1879: 175). It was believed that spirits had the ability on that night to

visit their old earthly haunts, their friends and family (ibid). A similar legend existed about the

first of May, when people visited the graves of their loved ones and offered gifts to the spirits.

Halloween also marked the date for the beginning of winter in the ancient Celtic calendar, a time

when the veils between the spirit world and the living world thinned, and the dead had the ability

to make contact with the living (Muir, 1997: 78).

In Celtic beliefs, the spirits of the dead – both good and bad – were released on these

nights. Sometimes they would arrive as ghosts, sometimes as hobgoblins, black cats, fairies, or

demons to wreak vengeance on any person who wronged them in life (Muir, 1997: 78). If the

spirits were not appeased and placated with offerings, they would haunt the living throughout the

next year (Napier 1879: 176).

According to European folk belief, midnight also had its own significance and connection

to the supernatural. Midnight on and around Halloween was associated with the powers of

witchcraft, the devil, and the release of evil spirits (Turner, 1969: 183). This “sacred time,” to use

a phrase from Eliade, exists outside the profane, and outside the everyday life. It interrupts the

flow of non-sacred time, something that is necessary to connect with supernatural (or divine)

power in a religious act (Eliade, 1987: 69). Eliade describes sacred time as something being

infinitely recoverable, infinitely repeatable, in which participants can find the same sacred time
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in each festival or event, year after year, and century after century. The time itself neither

changes nor is exhausted. Despite the difference in form of ritual between the ancient Celts and

now, the idea of a sacred time tied to supernatural occurrences still endures and is, perhaps, even

reinvented.

One could argue that a vigil hosted by a tour company is simply part of a commercial

experience and nothing to do with ancient folk belief. However, there is still an awareness shown

in the advertisements for how Halloween and May 1st are ritualistically linked with the

supernatural:

Around this time, the spirits are scarier, the vaults are spookier, and our
guides are more demonic than ever, ready to take you on an unforgettable
journey into Edinburgh’s ghostly underworld . . . We run a variety of
different tours to suit different ages and expectations from afternoon to
the very darkest hours before midnight. Whether you are a brave soul or a
scardey cat, we have a tour to help get you into the spirit of Hallowe’en.
(“Halloween”, n.d.)
Perhaps the most fascinating aspect of a Halloween vigil is how it wavers between what

Turner describes as a liminal experience, and what he refers to as liminoid phenomena (Turner,

1982: 55). Insofar as being liminal, the vaults exist as a threshold, a landscape through which

spirits become real and interactive with the living. The state of in-between-ness in the vaults is

defined by its history and by the ghosts that linger there. During the vigils, mediums are in a

constant state of liminality just by their sheer abilities: “Mediums [are] thus doubly liminal

figures, traversing two worlds, literally mediating a space between the living and the dead . . .”

(McGarry, 2008: 28). This idea also reflects Giorgio Agamben’s idea of the homo sacer (1998),

the sacred man. The homo sacer possesses sovereign power between life and death. They are

both human and divine, both of this world and not of it.

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 By holding the vigils on Halloween and May 1st, the tour companies are grounding the

event in religious symbolism that shares a common intellectual and emotional meaning for the

members of the group – what Durkheim referred to as a collective representation. Midnight

being a liminal, sacred time when the spirits of the dead (who are liminal creatures themselves)

cross the veils between worlds and (re)enter the realm of the profane. Vigils are deliberately

cyclical in that they are observed at the same time each year, and seek to create a communal

experience by investigating ghosts with the ultimate goal of a successful paranormal experience.

Yet the vigils have characteristics of a liminoid experience, as well. After all, vigils run

by the tour companies commoditise making contact with the spirit world; the vigil itself is paid

for by visitors. While the event has all the symbolism of what should be a traditionally liminal

experience – sacred time and dates; an attempt at connection with liminal creatures; the creating

of a metaphysical landscape – they are still the remains of folkloric beliefs framed for the tourist

experience. In the liminoid experience, Turner argues that the difference is in choice. Unlike the

ritual experience, something that can be attended or avoided, the liminoid experience can be

watched at will (Turner, 1982:43). For all the seriousness in tone of the vigil, it is still about

choice and entertainment because it exists as a commodity, a commercialisation of spirituality

and of sacred time. Thus, the liminal and liminoid coexist within the same structure: the group as

tourists — liminoid individuals who are attending for a fee (and entertainment, to a degree) —

and the event as a portal into the liminal world.

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 A Vigil with Danny: Creating a Sensory Ghost Space

A few days before Halloween was the first vigil I had ever attended. While the walking

tours offer some exploration of the vaults, it is restricted to a rather rigid time scale. The vigil is

five hours long, beginning at midnight. A tour guide leads a group of sixteen of us into the same

room Lenore held her meeting. The room had become dramatically more theatrical than the last

time I had seen it, decorated in more synthetic Halloween spider-webbing than when I met with

Lenore. The lights were brighter and a refreshment table had been set up at the back of the room,

with teas and instant coffees to choose from. Unlike at Lenore’s meeting, there were no candles

on the table, nothing to create a sense of mood. We were simply to use the place to store our

belongings between time spent in the vaults further underground.

We all settled down at our respective tables. Some of the other guests had brought

backpacks filled with bags of food, energy drinks, and boxes of ghost investigation gadgets. As

the ghost investigation aspect of the vigil is detailed further in Chapter 5, for now I shall focus on

Danny, the medium. Danny was tall and thin, with thick black framed glasses that sat ever so

slightly at the edge of his nose. He had been a member of the Scottish Ghost Investigators for

three years, lending out his services as spiritual medium during their investigations. While the

ghost investigators had their technology to track, record and detect the possible presence of spirit

activity, Danny’s job was to indicate which places in a location may yield the highest amount of

paranormal phenomena, and, if possible, interpret any messages from the spirits. I have a look

around to get a sense of things. There’s no use in spending time in a room no spirit is likely to

enter.
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 For the sake of time and space during the vigil, we were split into two groups: Danny

would take eight people to communicate with the spirits, using his abilities to aid the process;

and John, the ghost investigator, would take the other eight and use the ghost investigation

gadgets. Halfway through the night, we switched. My group was picked to go with Danny first,

and we were delegated to explore the set of vaults that were the farthest in. We were

accompanied by one of the tour company’s guides, who was there to offer any historical

perspective to Danny’s visions.

As we started down the stone staircase, farther below street level, the guide blew out the

candles. We were left in near complete darkness, except for the dim, green light that emanated

from the exit signs. The lack of light was for a specific purpose: to sharpen our other senses in

the presence of spirits. In ghost investigations, sight is considered to unreliable. Shadows and

candlelight can all too easily form moving shapes that appear quite ghostly at first glance.

Investigations rely quite heavily on non-visual senses: sound (most commonly in the form of

ghostly whispers, objects being thrown, footsteps); feel (a tap on the shoulder, a hard shove,

someone’s hand being held, breathing on the back of one’s neck, a sudden temperature change);

scent (in the vaults, people have smelled smoke, oysters, the scent of someone’s breath just over

their shoulder); and, more rarely, unusual tastes or a sudden dryness in one’s mouth. However,

senses are considered only one aspect of the overall experience – feelings are given incredible

importance. Danny considers the emotional state to be equally as vital to what one experiences

through their senses: The senses are physical, but what you feel gives you a better idea of a

spirit’s intent. In the dark, you learn to trust your feelings more.

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 The vaults, being so far under the street level, had such little light to allow my eyes to

adjust. I was acutely aware of how uneven the stone floor was, worn down by how many people

had trod on it over the years. My group shuffled towards the first vault, our hands flat on the

walls for support. In that level of darkness, it is exceptionally easy for the senses to become

overloaded. I was very aware of nine other patterns of breathing, the swishes of fabric our

clothes made – how startlingly loud both were in such an echoing chamber. Even a single

sensory deprivation made the walls seem closer and vast at the same time. The vaults are not just

dark, but so starkly quiet at that time of night. The pubs on street level had emptied for the night.

The occasional whoosh of cars could be overheard, but little else from the outside.

We began our communication with spirits in the largest of the vaults, where the most

spiritual activity is said to take place. The place is cavernous and tall. Once two separate rooms

on top of one another, the upper vault caved in at some point in history. The only indication if it

having been there is a door along the wall that would have once been its entrance, but is now a

good seven feet from the ground floor. At the back of the vault, water collects and drips from the

roof, hitting the floor with a soft tapping sound. The green glow of the exit sign gave me some

ability to see as we gathered in the centre of the room, but only just.

Danny told us of his past experiences in the room:

Of all the rooms in the vaults, this is the one that affects me the most. There are particular
spots in the room that you may be drawn to, that attract different spirits. There is
definitely a feeling of being watched here. All the times I’ve been in the vaults, this is the
one I’ve sensed the most presences in, and one time I almost passed out in here. That’s
how strong a reaction my reaction has been to it in the past. I always get disoriented in
this place, a little lost.
When we came in, I immediately saw a man in the door there. He won't let me look at him
straight on, only out of the corner of my eye. I can't make out any of his features; only a

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 silhouette. I'm not sensing that he means us any harm, just that he intends to watch.
That's one thing I've noticed about a lot of spirits down here. They just want to watch us
come through, not hurt us.
Danny’s abilities as a medium manifest in a direct form: he sees and interacts with spirits

that haunt a certain space, and can see the “psychic impressions” the past has left on a space.

Places like these have history. People's deaths have left impressions in the stones here,
their emotions and their lives still linger. I see parts of history, points in time that still
remain here. The people whose lives shaped the history [of the vaults].
Danny’s visions often yield two different types of spiritual presence which reflects those

told on the ghost tour: spectres that are unaware of our presence and those that are not. The

unaware continue to exist as they would have in their own respective time periods. Each of them

is confined to their own separate spaces, with objects that would have held some significance to

them in life. As unaware as they are of us, these types of spirits are also oblivious of any other

spirits that may be present. It’s like nothing else exists for them. They’re still living in their own

time periods, in their own lives, as if they had never died. In this particular vault, Danny senses

an old man pacing back and forth in the space where the floor for the upper room would have

once been. The gentleman has never been known to try and communicate with visitors in any of

the times Danny has visited the vaults. Spirits of this type reside in pockets of liminal space and

time, where they live in the spirit world in a normative fashion, as if they were still a part of the

profane condition. In a sense, they are doubly liminal: between life and death, and existing

between two historical points. Their space is a self-contained transitory period between the living

world and the afterlife.

However, even this type of spirit has to undergo its own rite of passage into an eventual

awareness. To achieve this in ghost investigations, mediums may use what John Sabol refers to

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as a “discard technology,” (Sabol, 2007: 115) a type of trigger object used to make a spirit aware

of their own death. Danny says, We wake them up and try to get them to pass on when we can.

For mediums, making a spirit become aware is a part of their responsibility for being granted

their abilities. In order for the spirit to transition into a proper afterlife it must wake up and

become aware of the fact that it is no longer in the realm of the living. A ghost investigator

without any training in the mediumship is unable to use discard technology properly; it has to be

used by a medium with skill in navigating between the worlds. The more complex the self-

contained landscape created by the ghost, the more difficult it becomes to make them self-aware.

The silhouetted man that Danny sensed in the doorway, however, is aware of visitors.

Danny attempts to speak with him – Would you like to tell us who you are? Would you like to

give us a message? – but the watching spirit never responds. There is also a little boy and a dog,

who waver between awareness and unawareness. They chase each other through the vaults as if

only cognisant of their own spaces in time, and yet they can be prompted into interacting with

the living by a liminal object, used to trigger a spirit’s response. The object allows for the ghost

investigator to transition into the socio-cultural world of the ghosts (Sabol, 2007: 115). The spirit

is meant to identify with the object, react to it, and separate themselves from their own haunt

period. Spirits of this type usually become more cognisant around Halloween or May 1st, when

the veils on both sides – spirit world and living world – are thin enough for both the living and

the dead to become more aware of each other. Around these dates, the little boy has been known

to grab the hand of someone he perceives as a mother figure, and the dog will brush up against

people’s legs.

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 Danny’s medium abilities also manifest in the ability to see the past of a place, the

records of the invisible, what he calls, “significant impressions in time.” This contrasts with

Lenore’s ability to see places, which are only shown to her by spirits in order to communicate

specific messages. What Danny sees in his impressions are not necessarily just spirits trapped

between worlds, but events as they happened, the feel of a place, the emotions of it. His vision in

the next vault was of strong, stout men drinking and eating oysters, tossing the shells to the

ground. The room he sees in his mind is dimly lit, packed full of intoxicated men. The scent here

is pungent. It’s like the sweat and candles and seafood, and it’s overwhelming. Really, so strong

that I actually feel a bit ill right now. It’s making my eyes sting. The guide explains that the

strong odour could come from the candles, which would have been comprised of fish oil and

animal fat. As soon as we leave and move into another vault, Danny notes that the odour has

dissipated.

The next vault is full of chairs belonging to the tour company, lined along the walls and

stacked on top of each other. The tour guide is quick to point out that this vault has never been

used in tours and exists primarily for storage; the extra furniture is there for larger events. Danny

shakes his head; he has another impression of the vault. It would have been used for another kind

of storage once. I see bodies in here. Would there be any reason for bodies to be in here?

According to the guide, there is a rumour that body snatchers59 may have once brought

bodies into the vaults and kept them there before selling them to the medical school. It is not

something that has been proven by any accounts in the historical record, but the historical record

suggests body snatchers would have needed a safe place nearby to keep their corpses before

59
Specifically referencing Burke and Hare.

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selling them. There would have been nothing to prove that particular vault to be used at all for

that purpose. However, the guide notes: the vault does exit directly into Niddry Street, which is

only a few hundred meters from the medical school. So there is a possibility that body snatchers

would have met their clientele on Niddry Street, and used the vaults nearest to the street for easy

access in their dealings.

Danny proposes we stay in the vault and communicate with the spirits there to see if they

might lend perspective to his vision of the coffins. The ten of us settle into the small room, sitting

on the cold stone floor. Two tourists in the group have electromagnetic frequency meters with

them. One EMF machine sits at the back of the vault, and the other is placed in the middle of our

group to see if there was any discrepancy in their readings. The goal was to use the devices to

prompt spirits in the room into answering simple sets of questions (yes or no), while Danny

attempted to interpret more complex answers.

Both devices begin the session with a single green light blinking, indicative of low

electromagnetic frequency. We sit quietly as Danny asks any lingering spirits to communicate

using the metres.

If there’s anybody in here, if you’re with us or watching us, and you may have stayed in

these walls or worked in these walls, can you let us know if you’re here? Touch us, or tap the

wall, or make the lights turn on? A second light on the machine turns on, a yellow light. Can you

make three lights come on? A third light turns on – orange. Can you make four lights come on?

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 When nothing happens, Danny repeats the questions, but only the three lights remain lit.

We wait, but nothing else happens. Danny asks the guide: How much do you know about this

room?

The guide did not know much about the room at all. The history of some of the vaults is

not particularly well-known, or even well-documented. Those who lived down in the spaces

would have been primarily illiterate, so their accounts would not have been put forth into the

public sphere. What information historians have managed to garner about the vaults come from

the few accounts that do exist, or from objects left behind when the vaults were reopened in the

1980s. In this vault, all they found were dark glass bottles, an indication that the room may have

been used for storage and not much else.

The reason I ask is because I’m sensing someone in here. Two presences, one stronger

than the other, but the weaker one might just be passing through. For the stronger one, if you’re

male, can you make the lights go again? Three of the lights turn on and a fourth one flickers.

I’m picking up a name now, someone with a history in these walls and it keeps coming
up. The name John Murphy. That’s a name that’s drawn to this room. There is a lot of
spirits that pass through these walls, and I still pick up on others coming through, as
well. They don’t linger, and they’re not interested in interacting with us just now. But
there’s still that name John Murphy that keeps coming strong, that has a strong
association with this place.
Also in this room, I keep getting an association with death. I keep seeing the dead linger
here for a day, or two days. That may be the body snatcher association coming up again
or something else, but that’s what I keep seeing. I have this image of a body laying out
here for a few days at a time; different bodies, like it keeps happening.
While the names “Burke and Hare” did not come up in the conversation, the possible

association with the two most notorious body snatchers in Edinburgh is one that the tour

company plays up for its more sensational walking tours. As the vigils put more emphasis on

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investigation than entertainment, the tour guide was there to put Danny’s visions into an historic

perspective. If what Danny claimed in his visions was unverifiable, the guide disclosed that. His

knowledge of the vaults history is a means of authentication. In this regard, the vigil has three

important aspects that separate it from a regular ghost tour: historical perspective (provided by

the guide), scientific perspective (provided by the gadgets brought in to detect ghosts), and a

spiritual perspective (provided by the medium).

The spiritual landscape, or ghost space, within the vaults is tied to its history, to the

emotional and personal events that once happened there:

[a place] haunts us in the sense that they force us – perhaps against our will, perhaps
occasionally – to recognise the lives of those who have gone (before). In this sense, the
physicality of the [place] itself shimmers with the ghostliness as it becomes a mutable
and durable place of memory (Pile, 2005: 162).
Through mediumship, Danny is able to tap into the collective memory of a place and the

people who once inhabited the vaults. The vaults, as a tourist location, are so deeply linked with

a dark history of poverty and plague, a seedy underground in which death was all too common.

Its ghost space becomes reflective of that history, what Steve Pile calls an “emotional

geography,” where the social history of a place is deeply connected to its hauntings, and through

its metaphysical “impressions.”

Thus, Danny is able to create a metaphysical landscape of history, the spirits that exist

between worlds, and death. Bodies have a significant meaning to the imagery he has created, as

symbolic of a tumultuous history in which the dead were commodities, dug up and sold for a fee.

He creates a landscape where spirits ever-linger, unaware of their transitions into an afterlife.

Spirits become tied to their physical bodies, which reflect their profane lives as they once

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existed. The body lingers even after death, a part of the metaphysical landscape Danny has

created for the vaults.

A Vigil with Mary: Sensory Landscapes, Shamanism, and Spirit Vessels

My vigil with Mary was a year after I met Danny. She reminded me immediately of

Lenore, the same quiet nature, the same reverence for the mediumship: This is my calling. I knew

it from the time I was little that this is what I should do with my life. Unlike Danny, Mary did not

attend ghost investigations very frequently, and unlike Lenore, she did not belong to the

Spiritualist Church. She considered herself a private medium-for-hire, who travelled to make

house calls to cleanse private homes of spirits. Mediumship was not her primary occupation, but

it was one she felt the most connection to. She was still in training in the mediumship, and had

agreed to do the Halloween vigil to build her reputation within the spiritual community. The last

time she went into the vaults, she refused to communicate with the spirits. I kept myself closed

off tight as a drum the last time; I didn’t want any spirits talking to me then.

I was surprised to hear that her abilities were could be muted at will. In my interviews

with Danny and Lenore, both were very clear that their abilities were active all the time. As

Lenore said, It was like a switch inside me. It flipped on one day and I could never flip it back

off, even if I wanted. So present were Lenore and Danny’s abilities that they maintain a constant

state of spirit connectedness. Mary’s visions simply did not work the same way. I see glimpses
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into the past. I can sense things and get a feel for the spirits in the room. Sometimes it’s visual

and sometimes it’s instinct.

My group with Mary explored the same vaults as I had with Danny. Again, all the candles

had been snuffed out. The vaults were quiet, and so were the streets above us. The air was

heavier that night, musty from the smoke machines the tour company uses to create a ghostly

atmosphere on the Halloween walking tours. Mary has us gather in a circle, asking that we press

our shoulders together so the circle would be unbroken. What we do here is call on the spirits in

this place to talk to us, and not all of them may want us here. This circle offers us protection from

any that might try to do us harm.

Mary asks us to breathe deep and focus to clear our mind of anything that might prevent

our ability to perceive a spirit’s message. Her approach to spirit communication is different from

Lenore’s and Danny’s, heavy with ritual symbolism. She asked us to hold hands if we were

comfortable doing so, claiming that while many spirits simply want to deliver messages to living

people, there are some that are dangerous and driven to vengeful acts of violence out of

resentment for the living. Mary considers the vaults to be a place of concentrated spirit activity,

so haunted that it attracts wandering spirits who may not have died there at all. By calling out to

the spirits and inviting them to communicate and interact with us, she believed we could open

ourselves up to vengeful spirits or Poltergeists who seek to do us harm. Sometime the not-so-

good spirits like to wait for us to make contact. I haven’t seen them hurt anybody yet, but they

can cause quite a fright.

By staying in a circle and linking hands (or being pressed shoulder to shoulder), a

spiritual barrier is created to protect the group from harm.

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 Now, I'm not doing this to alarm anyone, or make you feel like you're in danger, but there
is a man in this room. I can make out his silhouette just there in the doorway. For now,
he's just watching, but I am getting the feeling that he's not happy we're here. This is his
space, he feels we're invading it. And he's lurking just there to let us know we're not
welcome.
The circle is a vital part of a transitory experience, something that grounds the people in

the room firmly to the realm of the living while keeping them in contact with the realm of the

dead. Eliade wrote about the experience of being transcendent and wholly aware of an eternal

reality where the souls of the dead dwell (Eliade, 1987: 118), but in Mary’s vigil tourists are both

aware of that reality and yet separate from it. By maintaining that separation, tourists are

protected from harmful spirits and yet put in an in-between state where we are still open to

messages from other spirits.

In that sense, the vigil space mirrors a ritual space, which Emile Durkheim defined as a

space which directly addresses the sacred. While the vigil may not be a ritual in its most exacting

form – which consists of formality, fixity, a repetition (Bell, 1992: 92) – I would argue that the

way a vigil is conducted (with all of its ritual symbolism and activities, such as the circle) is

constructed in a way that is highly ritualised. The persistent aspects of ritual are clear in the way

communicating with the world of the spirit is both initiated and warded: the circle of protection,

the use of candlelight, and the conjuring of spirits. The imagery is certainly indicative of the

structure of witchcraft and séance. As Catherine Bell says, “Ritualisation is embedded within the

dynamics of the body defined within a symbolically structured environment” (ibid) The circle

Mary asked us to form was a part of that structure, as is the idea of visual deprivation in order to

make one more receptive to spirit communication.

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 For spirit communication, Mary uses a digital voice recorder. She asks spirits questions

and pauses to wait as their answers are captured within the device. Spectral presence is clear to

her without the recording, but she notes that listening to the EVP (electronic voice phenomena) is

for our benefit, in case the messages were directly addressed to one of the people in the circle. If

there's anyone here or listening and you would like to give us a message, speak into the recorder.

After a few seconds she turns it off. Now I know we got something there. I heard a whisper and

felt a breath just over my shoulder.

She plays the recording and a whisper of what sounds like, Hello, filters through the

white noise on the digital recorder. She encourages us to ask questions into the recorder, which is

then played back for any possible answers from a spirit. This is a technique I detail further in

Chapter 5, one used by ghost investigators to create a dialogue between the dead and the living, a

digital proof of their existence. I am mentioning it briefly in this chapter as the auditory and

synaesthesic landscape is how Mary presents the ghost world through her visions. As she claims:

Every person has the potential to be sensitive enough to sense ghosts; it's just about
putting them in the right environment and mood to do it. If you do feel something, don’t
be shy about saying so. There’s no shame in admitting you feel something. You’re
supposed to come here to try to feel something.
By these recorded sound bites of ghostly voices, we, as participants, become more firmly

entrenched in a paranormal landscape. Every new sound, every breath felt, every taste, and every

shadow figure is a potential aspect of that landscape. Attendees take what Constance Classen

describes as “sensory journeys,” in which they are able to think about the senses, think through

them, and use that as a way of interacting with spirits (Classen, 1993: 9). Therefore attendees are

no longer were observers waiting for a medium to make contact with a spirit, but an active

participants in spirit communication. The vigil, in that sense, is a spiritual journey as well as a
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sensory one. Mary notes that being in the dark and critically using the other senses awakens

people’s potential for paranormal sensitivity. Through spirit communication, attendees attempt to

experience something that is truly liminal and, ultimately, transformative. It becomes a passage,

a transcendent initiatory experience from the profane to the sacred (Eliade, 1987: 181).

Mary initiated with the ghost space around us in a way that shows an intuitive connection

with spirits. She senses their nearness, their intentions, and sometimes the way they would have

lived. Mary’s visions involved the senses; like Danny, she smelled strong odours from visions of

the past, and could smell the smoke of the burning candles. However, her visions included an

emotional connection to those scents that were absent in the way Danny expressed his visions.

The smoky smell came from a distinct feeling of malevolence in the vaults, from the spirit who

watched us from the shadows. I'm feeling him just in that other room now and he isn't at all

happy with us tromping through his home. He's getting angrier and the smoke taste gets stronger.

In a ghost space, particularly strong spirits are able to change the aural landscape of a

place, the way that place feels to a medium. Suddenly the “feel” of the room can become

negative or melancholy, and can affect the medium’s moods. Mary felt intense anger when the

shadow spirit was around. He critically altered her emotional connection to the room, making it

so intensely negative that she wanted to leave. She speaks very matter-of-factly, but with a hint

of unease in the tone of her voice:

We're not welcome here, and I'm doing my best to block him out. For a second there he
was trying to grab at me and I smelled his breath, which is just this incredibly strong
smoke and rot there. He’s telling me to get us out and he’s really beginning to influence
me in an unpleasant way. I can just feel his rage, and it is so intense. He’s just watching
now but I get the sense that he’s not going to keep still for much longer. And when that
happens, it’s not going to be easy to shut myself against him then. So perhaps it's best we
move to another room.
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 Mary is able to feel the spirit on an emotional and ultimately physical level. It was an

embodiment of the spectre, however brief – not necessarily a “possession”, but an intense

physical interaction with the spirit world (Eliade, 1964: 5). Mary’s abilities mirror a traditional

sense of shamanism: “[The goal of a shaman] is to interact with the spirit world for the benefit of

those in the material world.” (Townsend, 1997: 431). Thus, Mary serves not only as a link

between the spirit world and that of the living, but also as a vessel. Spirits speak through her, just

as they would a shaman. Her role as a liminal being is altered in that she exists between what

Townsend describes as “two realities:” the “material reality,” which is the profane, and the

“spiritual reality,” where the souls of the dead exist. In becoming a vessel for the emotions of the

spirit world, she enters a state of in-between-ness where she becomes a part of the spiritual

reality on a more physical level.

As Mary discusses the feelings the malevolent spirit evokes, a few others within the

group responded that they suddenly felt cold. One girl stated, I just suddenly felt a chill up my

arms and it didn’t feel at all good. I didn’t feel right. Another claimed, I think I just felt a breath

on the back of my neck there. Really warm and uncomfortable. John Sabol notes how a haunted

space takes on its own metaphysical personality and reality, shaped by the spirit: “ . . .

interactions within haunted spaces can influence feelings, moods, and associations without a

spirit being physically “tuned-in” (in a psychic sense)” (Sabol, 2007: 76). The ghostly landscape

changes into something dark and foreboding, with a sense of danger real to those sensing what

they believe to be spirit activity. Mary no longer exists as a bridge between one world and the

next, but a guide contextualising and reframing the spirit world for tourists.

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 Conclusion

As Mircea Eliade wrote, “There is a sacred space . . . and hence a strong, significant

space; there are other spaces that are not sacred and so are without structure or consistency,

amorphous.” (Eliade, 1987: 20) The vaults as a profane space are something alterable, a place in

which pockets of liminality and sacredness and spirituality coexist. While visitors may enter into

a liminal period there for a short while, they may never transcend beyond the profane until death.

In contrast, mediums exist as transcendent, liminal creatures able to commune with and walk

among the two worlds, as messengers for the dead, as guides for the living, and as vessels for

spiritual interactions. Mediums create transcendent landscapes through which those existing in

the profane space may walk, however briefly, among the spiritual space.

In Edinburgh’s ghost culture, mediums waver between liminal and liminoid ways of

being. Their ability to communicate with spirits as a compulsive need (that never turns off) keeps

them in a permanent state of liminality. Yet they also market that ability as a commodity to

anyone willing to pay for it. However, the success of that commercialism has taken hold in

Edinburgh. The diversity of the mediumship there shows that ways of communicating with

spirits is not uniform. It is a creation of many different spiritual landscapes, from the auditory, to

the sensory, to the connection of kin and spiritual rebirth. It is within those landscapes that past

and present interact. The vaults are a window through which the other world is visible,

interactive, and entirely linked with the history of the space. Medium visions become places

through which the sacred and the profane interact. They create ghost spaces in which the dead

are not simply dead, but exist in another place and time, another state of in-between-ness. To
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Lenore, those spirits are waiting, watching, and protecting their families until they can be

rejoined in death. To Danny, some spirits are in their own pockets of history, replaying and

reliving as if they had never died at all. To Mary, spirits are interactive creatures able to change

the landscape and moods of the living people around them. Every medium I interacted with in

Edinburgh had a different idea of life after death, different visions of the liminal space beyond.

However, they all attempt to show the living that there is some significance there, a rebirth or

existence that is still not entirely separate from the living.

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 CHAPTER 5

The Commercialisation of Ghost Hunting, and How Tourism Has Affected

Scotland’s Ghost Culture

Between the rise of tourism and the popularity of Spiritualism was a shift in how ghosts

were culturally perceived in Scotland – and with it, how the supernatural became commoditised.

Spirits have long been as much a part of Scotland’s folklore as the faeries and the monsters. In

folktales, they are creatures that force humans to confront their own mortality, and exact moral

judgement upon the living. One of the most notable works on Highland superstitions is William

Grant Stewart’s The Popular Superstitions and Festive Amusements of the Highlanders of

Scotland (1823), which narrated different types of ghosts and ghost legends from before the

Enlightenment. Popular Superstitions chronicled tales of spectres haunting Scottish lochs,

castles, and streets, and sometimes the spirits would exact vengeance or harm on those they

knew in life. Stewart noted that spectres could often be “ill-natured and cruel, and cared not a

spittle for woman or child” (ibid: 6). Legends of spectres often resembled stories of demons or

witches or faeries; they were perceived by those in Stewart’s accounts as more like monsters than

those who were once living humans.

The popularity of Spiritualism created the perfect balance between storytelling,

performance, scientific investigation and a wide attempt to make spirits more accessible to the

living. Rather than being relegated to mere folktales, spirits became investigated and summoned

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by people seeking answers about life after death. Having approached this topic from an historical

perspective, 60 this chapter will continue the discussion of ghost events outside of the walks61 and

their use of scientific tools and investigative techniques to record and capture spirits on film.

Edinburgh’s contemporary ghost culture revives the Victorian-era desire to utilise technology to

prove that when people die, a spark of them still lives on elsewhere, on some other plane of

existence. Contemporary belief in ghosts has become, in part, entwined with the burden of proof

and seeking out the paranormal deliberately. Ghost hunters and investigators combine their

paranormal beliefs with the scientific desire for evidence of hauntings, an outlook that is both

reflected and propagated through commercial ghost endeavours and on popular television

shows.62

As I became more entrenched in Edinburgh’s ghost culture and Spiritualist communities,

I could not ignore that ghost investigations had became just as much a part of the

commercialisation of hauntings as the walking tours themselves. Indeed, investigating ghosts –

that is, the attempt to prove or indicate spiritual presence via the use of certain scientific

instruments – has even been introduced into some of the walking tours. Tourists are encouraged

by tour companies to bring along items that have become mainstays of ghost investigations: from

cameras to digital recorders to electromagnetic frequency (EMF) metres (which are occasionally

even provided on certain tours) and digital voice recorders. Tourism itself has shaped and

affected the investigatory sphere in Edinburgh into a multifaceted community striving and

competing for locations to investigate the paranormal. On the surface, their goal is simple: to use
60
See: Chapter 1.
61
That began with Chapter 4, on the mediumship.
62
Television shows and other media will be discussed more in depth in Chapter 6.

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various tools as tactics of validation which both indicate and record spiritual presences.

However, like many aspects of ghost culture in Edinburgh, the incorporation of investigative

techniques into the tour circuit shows a significant shift in how the supernatural is consumed by

tourists. In this chapter, I will compare and contrast two different types of ghost investigators

(commercial and independent). This discussion includes the use of hunts as a tourist draw, the

similarities and differences in structure between commercial and independent investigations, and

how investigation signifies a shift in how people – including tourists – experience ghost stories.

Sharing a Space with Tourists: How the Tourist Industry Has Impacted Paranormal

Investigation

The Edinburgh vaults under South Bridge have been a place of interest to investigators

since they were rediscovered. However, they have always been privately owned – by Norrie

Rowan in the 80s, then leased by various tour companies after that. Three tour companies

conduct their businesses in the vaults presently. The vaults have almost always been used in a

commercial capacity, first by the tour companies as an atmospheric place to tell ghost stories

about the old Edinburgh above, and later to include history walks, as well (Geddes, n.d., 38).

One of the guides for Mercat tours, Amanda, told me in an interview that the focus of their tours

changed when visitors began to have their own experiences within the vaults. The company

learned more about the history of the rooms, using whatever information it had managed to

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cobble together from historical records, accounts, and artefacts discovered in the vaults. Amanda

said it was the unexplained phenomena (footsteps, voices, scents) and increased tourist claims of

hauntings that inspired Mercat to centre their tours on the combination of history and ghost

stories.

The South Bridge vaults are now widely regarded as being one of the most haunted

places in the UK (some sources say in Europe), a reputation garnered from investigations and the

sheer number of paranormal encounters claimed by tourists. In Edinburgh, they have something

of a reputation among ghost investigators as being highly coveted for investigations, but as a

difficult place to conduct independent research. Aside from the vaults Mercat uses – which are

among the more famous and historically intact – the underground vaults have all been broken up

and bought by independent companies63, leaving each of the spaces now legally owned. Tourist

interest has driven up the price to rent out the vaults for private functions, leaving the

independent ghost investigators – who make little or no money from their work – unable to rent

the space for exploration without paying a tidy sum.

As a result of Edinburgh’s ghost tour industry, there exists some resentment between

independent investigators – those who consider themselves to be on scientific missions to prove

that a form of life after death exists, and spirits are a part of it – and those they call “wannabes”

and “sell outs” (as in, those who conduct commercial investigations paid for either by tourists or

by corporate entities, such as television networks). This hierarchy of knowledge and expertise is

further reflected in independent investigators’ views of the validity of the research performed by

commercial ghost hunters. Douglas, the first independent investigator who agreed to speak with

63
Both tour companies and various pubs.

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me, stated: Why should anyone believe that shite? They’re in it for the money. They have to make

a place look haunted or their customers will know they’re frauds.

Douglas’s investigation team travels throughout the UK and Europe during certain parts

of the year, and spends the rest working and saving money. Our interviews began during his

working months, when he performed odd jobs as a contractor. I found his posts on an internet

forum completely by chance while scouring the internet for any events scheduled in the city.

Sometimes events are quietly announced on ghost hunting or tourism sites, which I checked

often. One section of this particular forum on UK urban exploration64 was for explorers who

doubled as ghost investigators. Douglas was an active forum user, posting photographs of the

abandoned buildings that he had investigated to find ghosts. When he mentioned planning some

explorations in the area before travelling to England, I messaged him privately and introduced

myself, asking if he would allow me to interview him. After a few messages exchanged, he

agreed to meet with me.

Douglas was only a few years older than myself, and became interested in ghost

investigations after spending many years exploring abandoned buildings and, he says,

experiencing some pretty weird shit. Indeed, many of the urban explorers on the forum become

ghost investigators after their own personal encounters with unexplained phenomena while in the

field. He was open and friendly when we first met, though he admitted he had been caught

completely off-guard by my message because he assumed I worked in tourism. I almost told you

64
I have been asked not to share the name of this forum. After asking those on the forums for interviews, they only
agreed to speak with me on the condition that I not divulge any identifying information about the community and its
participants. The members largely investigate condemned and guarded buildings without permission, and they worry
that if authorities know about their activities, it might make future investigations more difficult to conduct.

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to fuck off, to be honest, he said. His sentiment towards tourism is one shared in the community

of independent ghost investigators, including those on the forums that he frequents to share tales.

Their reasons were always the same: tourism detracts from legitimate scientific investigation. It

puts investigators in competition with one another, where the groups that make money from

tourists are given access to locations that independent researchers are not.

When a location is labelled as potentially haunted65, a ghost investigator’s goal is to

conduct research to either verify stories of unexplained phenomenon or dispel them as some

perfectly earthly cause all together. However, ghost sightings have the unintended consequence

of creating a commercial gimmick used to attract tourists seeking their own personal paranormal

experiences. Drawing in tourists with supernatural claims is also used by hotels, castles, and

even pubs throughout Scotland (indeed, many places in the United Kingdom). These places

combine history and the paranormal – creating a link between the living and the dead – and has

become the framework for modern tourism in Scotland (Walter, 2009: 43). According to

Douglas:

The tourists and amateurs . . . the ghost hunters . . . swoop in, and the private companies
take notice. Suddenly the place is bought and we have to pay to get into a place to do
what we've always done.
The location becomes commercialised, with events packaged for the tourist experience. The

potential to make money on ghost stories formulates the identity of a site, both its historic

context and its present one. These places are defined – as historic places are – by past events and

the people that lived there, but in ghost culture, their identity becomes increasingly connected to

65
In the case of the vaults, there are now hundreds of claims of ghost sightings and spiritual activity.

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the stories and paranormal accounts passed along by previous visitors and tourist companies

(White, 2013: 233).

Douglas has not been investigating the paranormal long enough to remember what it was

like before tour companies overtook nearly all of the South Bridge vaults, even those that had not

been bought up by Mercat. Currently, a majority of the vaults are managed by three of the largest

ghost tour companies in Edinburgh: Mercat Tours, City of the Dead Tours, and Auld Reekie

Tours. The rest are owned by pubs on Niddry Street, at least one in conjunction with Auld Reekie

Tours. Even the Banshee Labyrinth, one of the pubs that built its venue into the vaults on Niddry

Street, uses the supernatural as a unique tourist draw:

Wherever you choose to sit back, relax and enjoy your drink, remember to be very
careful. Many have placed their drink down simply to watch it slide straight off the table
and smash against a wall as if thrown by an unseen force! (“Welcome to the Banshee
Labyrinth”, n.d. para. 2)
Douglas’s predecessors, those who have been conducting paranormal investigations in

the UK for decades, were more easily able to receive permission from the owners of the vaults.

As I heard it from Amanda, the tour guide, even Mercat once brought independent paranormal

investigators to the location to explore the claims of ghostly activity. Investigators came out of

interest in investigating a largely untouched and preserved location from Edinburgh’s more

gruesome past. Word spread through the city, aided by television coverage (and later, online

interest) which focused on claims of paranormal activity. The historically intact nature of the

vaults also made it a novelty to the public during a time when there was an increased fascination

with ghosts and the paranormal.

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 Ghost stories and investigations eventually became a popular premise for television

shows. Networks sent ghost hunters to various locations around the world to capture paranormal

phenomena on camera or in audio recordings. Most Haunted, a successful ghost hunting show in

the UK, was just one of the first to send its team into the Edinburgh vaults. Others followed.

Douglas claims television shows were the beginning of the end for independent ghost

investigators looking to conduct their research in the vaults for little or no money.

They were doing tours before that fucking show, but afterward the tourists came to see the
place and even more came after that. Now if you want to get in and set up your stuff,
make the money you lost on rental back, you either take the tourists with you, or pay a
damned fortune to rent it for the night on your own.
What Douglas describes is the nature of commercial ghost hunt: it combines the storytelling of

walking tours with scientific instruments to capture evidence of the paranormal. The tourist takes

part in an organised event that adopts aspects of investigations and reframes them for the tourist

experience – effectively widening the appeal of the ghost hunt (Hill, 2011: 89).

During my fieldwork, I went on a number of these ghost hunts, many of them with John,

a commercial ghost investigator who occasionally works in conjunction with Edinburgh’s tourist

companies. John worked as an independent investigator in the past, but now earns both income

and access to exclusive locations by taking both amateur ghost hunters and tourists along on

structured hunts. In doing so, he earns back the money he paid to rent out the location, and

makes extra income to use for travel to the next investigation site. John identifies the

contradiction commercial ghost hunters face: the acknowledgment that tourism perpetuates the

mainstream view of investigations as being a pseudoscience, contrasted with the need to make

money in order to conduct legitimate scientific investigation. That’s just the way it’s done now.

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Businesses buy up these places, and you have to adapt to keep doing what you love, even if some

people don’t take it seriously. There’s money in tourism.

Indeed, the money making aspect of ghost stories is also reflected in how researchers

label themselves within the community. The terms ghost hunter versus ghost investigator has

spurned passionate debate from those, like Douglas, who consider investigations to be serious

scientific work. While the distinction between the two terms is by no means universal to those

within the ghost culture, it places a vast importance on the intent of people participating in

investigations. Ghost hunting is for those who seek out ghosts as an entertaining, novel

experience, which also includes those who organise and lead these investigations for commercial

gains. As Owen Davies describes it, the ghost hunt is packaged for the tourist experience by

creating a connection between the tourist, the location, and the spirits that haunt it (2007: 90).

Through storytelling66, the commercial ghost hunt deliberately frames and creates an

environment of influence, one in which tourists have an expectation that paranormal activity will

occur. Such anticipation makes scientific data easily influenced and the collected recordings

susceptible to inaccuracies. Ghost investigation is for scientists researching paranormal

phenomena. Their goal is not solely to prove the existence of ghosts in a location, but also seek

to disprove claims that a location is haunted: “ . . . scientifically speaking, a ‘haunting’ is only an

hypothesis to be tested through experiment. The formal model of testing, universal in science, is

that of falsification.” (Ruickbie, 2013: 77)

In an investigation, finding evidence of a legitimate haunting is just as important as

discovering logical, earthly explanations for claims of spectral activity. This is in stark contrast to

66
Which includes both the history of the vaults and accounts of past visitor experiences.

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the way the paranormal has become commercialised for ghost hunts, which presents ghost stories

as absolutely true: “[book if you like . . .] entertaining storytelling – except they’re not just

stories – it’s all horrifyingly real!” (“Halloween Vaults”, n.d. para. 1)

While I have used these terms interchangeably in the other chapters of this thesis, I have

adopted Douglas’s distinction between ghost hunters and ghost investigators for this chapter. To

clarify: ghost hunter and ghost hunts/hunting will be used in reference to those paying to attend

investigations as well as those who run commercial investigations, and to any commercial tours I

attended. Ghost investigator is a term for those who run their own independent paranormal

research without the participation of tourists. They stress that the participation of tourists – and

their expectations upon arrival in a haunted space – risks their data being misrepresented and not

being taken seriously in the scientific community. Validation as legitimate scientific research is

their optimum goal.

Tourism in the Investigatory Space: Ghost Investigations and Ghost Hunting,

Comparisons and Methods, Beliefs and Intent

My fieldwork on the scientific study of the paranormal was primarily through

commercial ghost hunts. Ghost hunts were created and framed around the inclusion of tourists,

and thus were structured for the participation of more people than independent investigations.

Ghost hunts were also often advertised on the internet and even through tour company websites,
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so it was relatively easy to become acquainted with those organising and participating in

paranormal events in the community.

My first experiences on ghost hunts were with John, the leader of a team who primarily

run ghost hunts through tour companies in UK. By the end of my first year of research, I had

attended over a dozen commercial hunts, at least half of them with John. In contrast, it took a

great deal of effort and time spent within the community before independent ghost investigators

allowed me to accompany them on their investigations. They have inclusive, tight-knit groups

and often do not include new members unless they have proven themselves – the test being the

infiltration and chronicling of abandoned sites on a regular basis. Like Douglas, independent

investigators were hesitant to speak to me when I mentioned that my research was, in part, on

tourism. I had been immersed in the community for a year and a half when I first interviewed

Douglas, and it would be another three months before Douglas introduced me to Ben, the leader

of another independent investigation group. Ben was adamant that I include ghost investigations

in my research.

Tourists don’t just make it hard for us to do our jobs . . . they make this about
competition. Those that sell out to tourists can get access to the best places because the
rest of us have to spend our own money. So if we’re on the skints, we have to find our own
places.
The independent investigation community has been forced to reinvent the nature of their ghost

investigations to keep a distance from tourists. In doing so, their research now covers the

abandoned, derelict, and forgotten buildings in the countryside and cities all over the country.

After some months of speaking with independent investigators and personally attending their

explorations, I was able to properly compare and contrast the difference between investigations

and commercial hunts. While their tools and beliefs about ghosts are the same, commercial and
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independent investigation methods have diverged to accommodate and adapt to the ever-growing

tourist landscape: the former by including tourists, and the latter by seeking derelict and

abandoned buildings that are free from the influence of tourism.

Similarities in Beliefs and Methods Between Ghost Hunters and Ghost Investigators

I. The Idea of the “Pure” Space

Where independent and commercial schools of thought merge is the idea of hunting in

and exploring in a pure space, something I heard spoken about often in Edinburgh’s ghost

culture. Pure spaces are valued for their authenticity; in the paranormal community, they are

referred to as time capsules. Their ghostly landscapes are believed to be unaltered by modern

additions to the building and structure that might affect how spirits interact with and

communicate in a place. In this sense, spatial purity is about maintaining its status as “other”, an

in-between-place that is part of the world yet wholly separate from it (Eliade, 1987: 25). The

South Bridge vaults, for example, are considered by both John and Douglas to be a pure space.

The rooms have been relatively unaltered by modernity, making the location a relic, a rare

treasure for ghost investigators. Since being rediscovered, tour companies have not sought to

modernise them, leaving them in exactly the same condition as they existed when they were

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sealed off in the 1800s; indeed, part of their appeal is in how atmospheric they are as historical

places.

On a different spectrum of purity, as defined by ghost investigators, are buildings that are

in use, such as castles, but have kept their classic look and architecture so they remain the same

as they were while the spectres were living. The buildings Douglas conducts his investigations in

are also considered pure because they have been left to decay rather than been effectively altered.

The appeal of a pure space has to do with its psychic echoes, created by past events and the

people who lived there, the social and cultural circumstances that make up its history (Hill, 2009:

101). I spoke about the psychic echoes briefly in Chapter 4 in the context of medium visions, but

the same idea holds true for the collective memory of a place. Ghost stories are linked with a

location’s history and context, framing the emotional state of those visiting around the potential

for paranormal occurrences with little anachronistic influence (ibid: 95). When a place is

changed, modernised, or added to, its spatial identity is considered altered. The effect is a less

immersive environment for those visiting and a disruption for the spirits that inhabit it. In

investigation, disruptions in the spatial environment can create difficulties interpreting the

messages spirits attempt to give through any medium conveying the message. The pure space

acts as a boundary between worlds, a threshold as Eliade (1987: 25) describes:

The threshold is the limit, the boundary, the frontier that distinguishes and opposes two
worlds – and at the same time the paradoxical place where those two worlds
communicate, where passage from the profane world to the sacred world becomes
possible.
A pure space is wholly liminal, a place of communication between the living and the dead. In

maintaining its purity, the place continues to evoke a sense of otherness in its present form, what

Chantal Laws (2013: 110) describes as, “explicably linked to a reflection on death.” The
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unchanged location remains firmly tied to its past, where in contrast to a modernised space, and

its history remains firmly visible. Meanwhile its past inhabitants are remembered through stories

of hauntings. Spatial purity is an environment in which the ghost space – the realm in which

ghosts reside – is in perfect stasis with the realm of the living. Ghost investigators and hunters

believe this allows a spirit’s message to slip through to the living with less difficulty, as their

interaction with the space remains the same as it did when they were still alive.

II. Ghost Investigation Gear and Perceiving the Ghost Space With the Aid of Technology

Every team has their own preference for the tools they use on investigations, with some

items being deemed more important than others. Certain items were present on every

investigation I attended, regardless of whether it was commercial or independent. However, the

item’s purpose and use differed between groups.67

Perhaps the most common item used was the camera. There was a great deal of

importance placed on capturing and documenting with both still cameras and digital camcorders

(night vision capability was essential). Digital SLRs were used by independent investigators to

document the location rather than to record spirits on film. Instead, night vision cameras were

used to capture spirit movement on film, most often flying orbs, or moving shadows. On

commercial hunts in the South Bridge vaults, tourists are encouraged to bring their own cameras

or camcorders – something I saw on hunts run by both the tour companies and by ghost hunters.

67
I will explain this in more detail in the commercial/independent investigation vignettes later in the chapter.

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Indeed, companies even asked that tourists send them any images of note to add to their ever-

growing archive of images.

Figure 6: One of the hallways in the vault, with an orb -- one of the believed manifestations of ghosts on film -- in the
centre.

As Robinson and Picard (2009: 20) note, photographs are a narrative device – a form of

storytelling framed by the tourist – that is passed around to family and friends. With the

popularity of social media, photographic narratives have gone beyond the scope of the immediate

family to be shared on sites like Facebook and Trip Advisor. The photograph is confirmation and

evidence of a tourist’s own ghost story, one that can be consumed and shared perpetually via the

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internet.68 Photographs are both a means of authenticating an experience and verifying the

haunted nature of a location. In the case of commercial ghost investigations, photographs are

shared by tour companies and ghost hunters on their websites to attract new visitors. This has the

double effect of both entwining the location’s identity with its hauntings, and appealing to

tourists who are seeking their own unique experiences.

The camera is also every bit as essential to the independent ghost investigator as it is to

the tourist. Indeed, I would argue that in the investigatory space, a ghost investigator is just as

much a tourist as those who pay to attend a ghost hunt. The photographs they take all tell a story;

the tale of a place, its decay, its current state of existence. In a ghost investigation, the

photograph is reflective of the living world, the documentation of the location, the experience. It

becomes another form of authenticity, representing evidence of the possessor’s participation in

an event during a specific time and place (Costa, 2010: 44). Photography in ghost tourism also

offers something different from the usual tourist snapshot: the possibility of spirits hidden in

images. Spirit photography forces the tourist to look carefully at photographs, to pay attention to

details that they might not regard so closely in the traditional holiday snapshot, where every orb

or streak of light has the potential to be a spirit. The photograph has the dual role of being both a

tool of investigation and an object of investigation itself.

68
More on this in Chapter 6.

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 Figure 7: Another view of the vaults.

The second most common item used on investigations was the digital audio recorder. In

both independent investigations and ghost hunts, the digital audio recorder is kept running from

the start of the investigation through to the end. Modern digital recorders can pick up a dynamic

range of audio, some of which might not be within the immediate auditory range. In

investigations, they are used to document Electronic Voice Phenomena (EVP), as ghost

investigators believe that spirit voices are on the very low end of what can be picked up by a

digital recorder. I documented the difference between how the recorder is used on the two

different investigation types, but the overall goal is to elicit a vocal response from any spirits

lingering in a room. The digital recorder is meant to pick up voices from both spirits who are

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aware of an investigator’s presence and spirits who still reside in their own spaces of time.

Investigators ask questions into the recorder, to prompt any aware spirits to respond either

directly to the question, or to reference any of the people in the room by name or description.

The stronger the response from a spirit, the stronger the resulting electromagnetic

frequency in a room. Electromagnetic frequency is detected by EMF metres, which are the third

most common tool in a ghost investigator’s arsenal. Most rooms operate at a low frequency

which would barely register on the device. A spike in the EMF reading is meant to be a sign of

some paranormal activity; any increase in the frequency indicates the strength of the spirit’s

presence. Investigators also use EMF metres to indicate the extent to which the worlds of the

living and the dead overlap; a persistently high reading in a certain room (without technological

interference) is evidence that the veil between realms is thinnest there. John Sabol (2007: 104)

describes these locations as a “haunt space”, a location that possesses enough meaning to the

spirits there to prompt a manifestation, a recordable response the ghost makes in the physical

world. Ghost investigators believe that the higher the EMF reading, the more likely the presence

of paranormal phenomena, which corresponds to a stronger link between the living world and the

ghost space. In this case, a stronger response is considered to be indicative of a spirit that is

aware of the living world and seeks to send a message. Lower electronic frequency readings are

considered to be spirits who are unaware of the living world, but still interact with it in the places

where the worlds overlap. These results in technology are considered to be what Sabol refers to

as “behavioural manifestations,” spirits interacting with technology either deliberately or

unintentionally; it is up to the investigator to figure out which (2007: 72).

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 While other tools were utilised to sense the strength of spirit presence, these three were

the most essential. EMF readers were used to indicate a physical presence, and the

camera/recorder combination is meant to catch a glimpse of the spirit’s manifestation in the

physical world. Ultimately, these tools serve an important purpose in Edinburgh’s ghost culture,

as they believe that what we see with our own eyes is unreliable, limited to the sights and sounds

of our own plane of existence. The ghost space is considered present alongside our world, but

living people are largely unable to experience it. Sometimes the overlap can exist strongly

enough in a place so as to be seen by the naked eye (such as the ghost sightings in the vaults), but

most of the time, technology is required to glimpse it. Technology is used in ghost hunting for

where human senses fail.

III. The Combination of Science and Myth, Reinterpreting Ghost Stories

Ghost investigation, tourism, and the use of technology to record spectral manifestations

have created a fascinating convergence of science and myth, technology and ghost stories.

Historically, ghost mythology and stories have always presented ghosts as the symbolic past

confronting the present. As Inglis and Holmes (2003) state, “The ghost comes literally to

represent the bursting forth of the past into the contemporary world, where inhabitants of the

present are forcefully reminded that escape from the call of history is impossible” (55). Ghost

investigations connect a place’s spatial identity with its history and its spirits, where ghosts are

believed to reside in a continued, looping past space that interacts with the present. It could also

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be argued that ghosts in stories are literal representations of the inevitability of death, there to

confront the living. They are associated with a number of ritualistic and folkloric elements69,

notably ritualistic ideas surrounding sacred time, sacred (“pure”) space, and passages between

worlds. The sacred time most associated with ghosts in Edinburgh is Halloween, when ghost tour

companies and ghost hunters make more income than at any other time in the year. Halloween

night was said to be when spirits came out to haunt the living, and it was believed they would

appear in “bodily shape” (Bamford as cited in Rogers, 2002: 31). These are folkloric ideas that

have become associated with spirits in modern day, still utilised in contemporary investigation –

indeed, they frame the investigatory space. The understanding of the ghost space as being

parallel to our world but able to overlap at pivotal places, times, and points of the year were not

only important to past ghost mythology, but continue to be the very ideas which contemporary

ghost hunters believe constitutes a haunt space. Grant Stewart noted that these times and places

possess a special quality, where the “natural coldness and jealousy which generally subsist

between the human species and their supernatural neighbours, are changed into perfect harmony

and benevolence (1823: 228). While these beliefs about ghosts still persist in Edinburgh’s ghost

culture, technology has been incorporated into the contemporary ghost story.

While supernatural interaction with technology is not a recent creation – after all, spirit

photography has been around since the 19th century – contemporary ghost investigation has

tailored spirit mythology to the responses they see in the field. Ghosts have always been

creatures associated with human senses and feelings: fear, hair standing on end, a sudden burst of

cold. Annette Hill (2011: 105) speaks of the emotional geography to hauntings, arguing that

69
Mentioned in Chapter 1 and described further in Chapter 4.

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people engage with spirits and spiritualism on an emotional level because they are forced to look

beyond the surface, to look beyond life. The technological aspects to a ghost hunt add several

other dimensions to the ghost myth. It attempts to distance ghost lore from its emotional

geography in order to present it as legitimate, scientific investigation. I would never dream of

arguing that the scientific rebranding of the ghost myth is without its emotional connection to

mortality and ideas of life after death. After all, by the very nature of the ghost hunt, investigators

are forced to confront their own ideological and social ideas of death and dying – and these can

be incredibly personal and feeling based. However, there is also a complexity of belief among

ghost investigators, one that Harvey J. Irwin argues is “marked by various degrees of

endorsement between the poles of extreme scepticism and extreme gullibility” (2009: 17). I

recall one of my interviews with Douglas, when I asked him if he believed in ghosts. After he

answered to the affirmative, I asked him if he thought his belief affected his research. Of course

I’ve thought about it, and I don’t know. All I can keep doing is gathering all the evidence I can

and hope it proves something. Douglas’s answer made me think often on the burden of proof.

Ghost stories, simply by belonging to folklore, are often viewed through the perspective of

personal belief. Both investigations and commercial hunts force the individual to consider ghosts

through the filter of their own experiences, to analyse and differentiate the explainable from the

unexplainable. However, since the post-Enlightenment age, ghost belief and investigations into

the unexplained and supernatural have become associated with the burden of evidence, the

scientific method. From the influence of the post-Enlightenment age, ghosts are investigated

through ever-changing technologies. They have been shifted out of the realm of mythology to

that which must be tested and proven – a practice that has extended to how the supernatural is

packaged for tourists.

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 A Commercial Investigation with John: Spending a Night in the South Bridge Vaults

The commercial tour brings together people from all over, from holiday tourists, to

people who already reside in Edinburgh. John has been organising commercial ghost hunts for

the last five years – some he plans on his own, though most are through tour companies around

the UK. Several times a year, he runs hunts in the vaults with Mercat Tours; twice during the

week of Halloween, which is when I accompanied him on my first commercial tour. The hunts

he organises for Mercat are required to be well-coordinated, with every hour meticulously

planned in advance to frame the experience for tourists. The scientific aspect of investigation, of

course, is secondary to giving tourists an experience carefully packaged and worth their time and

money. John Urry (1990: 38) describes this as the consequence of the tourist industry: service is

just another part of the “product”. On ghost hunts, part of the package tourists purchase is the

paranormal experience, which by its nature is rare and elusive. As Inglis and Holmes (2003)

state, “. . . Ghosts do not make reliable employees . . . a standing joke among Scottish tourism

officials is that ‘real’ ghosts are liable not to turn up ‘on cue’, when a party of tourists is being

guided around the putatively ‘haunted’ locale” (57). However, Mercat’s website disclaimer for

ghost investigations presents paranormal activity in the vaults as a likelihood instead of an

anomaly:

Mercat Tours accepts no responsibility for the effects of paranormal activity in the Vaults.
You enter the Vaults at your own risk. You are reminded that the supernatural is an erratic
phenomenon and can cause extreme emotional reactions. You have been warned!
(“Halloween Vaults Vigil”, 2013, para. 6)

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A connection to the haunted space must be established in the investigation, either by implying

that paranormal phenomena is happening, or by creating the anticipation that a ghostly encounter

is a distinct possibility. The purpose of a commercial ghost investigation is to appeal to people’s

emotions and feelings in the space, rather than their desire for scientific proof (Hill, 2009: 89). In

the end, a successful ghost investigation gives both the ghost hunter and the tour company more

business (and success in a commercial ghost hunt is entirely dependent upon tourists feeling as

though the investigation was successful in creating a paranormal link), and the boost in business

gives commercial ghost hunters the income and opportunity to perform their own legitimate

investigations between tourist events. While Douglas is derisive toward commercial ghost hunts,

John defends his decision to make money from investigations:

Some people think it means we’re not serious about investigating, and that’s fine. They
have their day jobs and take their teams in on the weekends, and think that way of
working is better than ours. But I don’t do this part time. They’re not better than me
because they don’t make money from it.
Those in the commercial hunting business consider their work necessary. John once told

me that new investigators he interacts with in the community became interested in researching

ghosts while attending their first commercial investigation. From his perspective, ghost hunts

provide experience to those who may very well be the next generation of investigators. Those

who participate in commercial events are a different crowd from Douglas’s independent

investigation community (urban explorers70), and even those who attend walking tours. These

visitors are not taking part in ghost hunts solely for the entertainment – and while some are

tourists, they are looking for something more immersive than a simple ghost walk. After all,

investigations take a great deal of time, lasting five hours at minimum (often past midnight),

70
I will describe urban exploration in the next section of this chapter.

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which is far more time and effort than most tourists would spend solely for entertainment’s sake.

While I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge that some come along for the aspect of fun,

most do come looking to experience the paranormal: “The economics of ghost hunting as a

business are secondary to the primary personal, emotional and psychological aspects of these

cultural practices” (Hill, 2009: 98). In fact, those who attend ghost hunts are often deeply

interested in the supernatural. Those I spoke with regularly participated in these types of events,

and are its primary customers. They pay handsomely (up to fifty pounds or more) for the

privilege of being included on organised ghost hunts.

The hunt is formulated with that monetary value in mind; it is a structured exploration

intended to offer tourists a peek at the resources available to a commercial ghost hunter. The

package includes access to an exclusive venue (like the vaults), and is aided by someone from

the mediumship (a highly valued, expensive asset in the community). Every aspect of the

commercial ghost hunt is intended to make tourists feel as though they have received their

money’s worth. While Douglas frequently described his independent investigations as “dull”,

Chris is aware that there is little allowance for boredom on the commercial ghost hunt; an

unstructured investigation begets dissatisfied customers. Importance must always be placed on

customer expectation, as success in the tourist industry is generated through word-of-mouth

(WOM) and good online reviews (Pradeep, 2008). For ghost tours, they’re also used as a form of

verification that the site is authentically haunted.71

While a commercial hunt is every bit as structured as a walking tour, the tourist’s

function is greatly changed. During walking tours, a tourist’s role can shift between passive

71
WOM and online verification of haunted sites is explained further in Chapter 6.

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participation (listening to stories) to active participation (becoming a part of the spectacle72, as

well as using EMF meters provided by the tour company). However, their presence is still largely

inactive, as the purpose of the tour is primarily for guides to entertain.

In contrast, tourists become incredibly active participants during ghost hunts. Storytelling

is still a part of the hunt’s structure, but it is there to create a framework for the investigation –

namely, to describe the ghosts sighted in the vaults by previous visitors. By reflecting on death

and the past stories of a place, the stories are meant to evoke an immediate sense of supernatural

otherness, forcing the tourist to confront their own spiritual beliefs (Laws, 2013: 111). Ghost

hunts directly link the history of the vaults with the spirits which are believed to inhabit it,

effectively establishing the location as a haunted space to visitors. This has the double effect of

creating an evolving historical identity through ghost encounters. The ghost stories are a form of

rebranding that firmly links the historic past with the supernatural, formulating the framework

for how ghost investigation is packaged for the tourist experience.

Before the hunt begins, visitors are given a tour of the vaults. The guide regales us with

the same ghost stories as those told on the walking tours: Mr. Boots; the female spectre who

resents women of childbearing age; the little boy and the dog; the kindly Cobbler who conducted

his business in the vaults. No one has their gadgets out during the walk-through, not even their

cameras. Visitors are passive participants during this part of the hunt, playing the role of the

tourist as if we were simply attending another walking tour. The candles are all lit and flickering

as we walk from room to room. The vaults are silent, not even the swish of cars overhead on the

South Bridge. It is after midnight now, closer to one o’ clock, as we make our rounds through the

72
Described in Chapter 3.

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vaults. Some of us shiver from the brisk October air, the cold that even seeps into the

underground. The stories are nothing I have not heard many times before, but the after-hours

silence of the city creates a still, almost unbearably quiet atmosphere on a ghost hunt that is a

stark contrast to the walking tours. The effect is an incredibly dramatic, chilling atmosphere that

makes me feel as though I am listening to the stories for the first time.

After the tour, we are asked to gather our gear to begin the exploration in the lower

vaults. The tour guide has blown out all the candles while we were busy, so the vaults have all

been plunged into extreme darkness. The hallways are not easy to navigate through blind, with

uneven floors and occasional jutting rocks. We have to place our hands on the walls to guide us

from room to room. The deprivation of the visual sense creates an enhancement of the haptic,

forcing tourists to rely on senses beyond the visual. This creates an environment where thoughts

and feelings are brought to the fore, what Classen refers to as “sensory journeys” (1993: 7). The

hunt becomes about feelings, emotions and responses to the dark environment.

I carry an EMF metre John provided for me. The light flickers from green to yellow, a

common indication of little or no activity. Next to me, a man carries a digital camcorder, the

night vision filter already on. In keeping with the overall structured environment of the

commercial tour, we are split into two groups – one group is led by the medium, the other by

John. On this hunt, I go with John first. He leads us into the back of the vaults to a room that was

once a residence for the landlord. It is the only room in the vaults with an obvious space for a

bed, as well as a fire pit in the corner. As we move to stand in a circle, the woman across from

me holds out her own EMF metre for everyone to see. Both show two lights (green and yellow)

with the third (orange) light flickering on and off, which on ghost hunts indicates a faint spiritual

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presence in the room. John retrieves his digital audio recorder from his backpack to document

any EVP; mine has already been recording for well over an hour. We are instructed to each take a

turn speaking into the microphone to ask one question for any spirits in the room to answer. We

each ask our questions, pausing briefly afterward to give a spirit time to respond. Did you die

down here? Where are you now? What is your name? Did you live down here?

John claims this part of the hunt is like speaking through a window, that communication

between the living world and the spirit world can be muffled on both sides. Our investigation

took place on Halloween, when the ghost hunting community believes the veils between the

worlds of the living and the dead are thinnest, making communication between the two clearer.

John plays back the recording. To the question: did you die down here? What sounds like a faint

yes filters through the hiss of noise. We ask another round of questions, and occasionally what

sounds like a voice will filter through the audio – some could have been interpreted as answers,

and others resembled muffled words. Later, I would play back my own recordings and listen for

the same patterns of noise. In the interest of disclosure, I could never recreate the same answers

that we heard through John’s recorder, and what he played to us in the vaults does not sound at

all like what my own recorder picked up.

However, my research is not to speculate the validity of the recordings or the possible

explanations for them, only to relay the importance recordings have within the ghost community:

as messages from the other side, an indication that life continues after death. The very act of

passing the recording device between the participants creates a connective space, in which the

spirit world becomes connected to the human world through recorded messages. There is a dual

result in this, where the world of the living is firmly defined as being in opposition to the spirit

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world (but they are able to connect), but the spirit world is also recognisable and reflective of the

living world (through human-like voices on audio) (Larsen, 2008: 15).

For the tourist, the recordings create another sense of validity, something to add to their

own repertoire of spiritual experiences. On the same night spent in the vaults, I sat in one of the

rooms with two men around my age. We were in the white room, rumoured to be where Mr.

Boots once lived and where his ghost still lingers. Our EMF metres were in the middle of the

room, flickering between green and yellow and orange. One of the men commented on the

recordings – they freaked me out. I could not help but ask, Do either of you believe in ghosts?

John always asked the same question at the beginning of his hunts, requesting that people to give

a show of hands if they believed. I was always the only one who never raised my hand. After my

first investigation, I sought any opportunity to ask the question to those on ghost hunts myself, to

see what people would be willing to share. While opportunities for conversation within the

context of hunts were rare due to the highly organised nature of the event, some people had

stories to tell, from the slightest encounters – voices, touches, feelings – to sightings of their

own.

In this particular instance, both of the men in the room with me told me they did. So I

asked the question I always did in follow up: have either of you ever seen a ghost? One of them

immediately looked uncomfortable, as if I had asked something quite personal. But, like all the

others, was willing to share his story with me.

When I was little, we lived in a house near Inverness. An old one that always seemed cold. When
I was six, and I turned off all the lights and got into bed, I’d see a shadow figure standing at the
bed post. Not doing anything . . . just standing there. Sometimes I’d turn off the lights, and he’d
be near the door, or the closet, just never moving. I started to go to sleep with the light on, but
my mum would come in and turn it off again, and he’d be back, just watching. I thought I was
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just imagining him at first, but it was such a clear figure in the dark . . . I couldn’t figure out how
anything in my room would be able to cast a shadow like that, that wasn’t in the same place
every night. I could feel its eyes on me, too. It just watched me.
The commercial ghost hunt creates a space in which storytelling and ghost stories are

given prominence, where people are able to share their own experiences to like-minded

individuals. It is a social atmosphere, where the feelings provoked by the haunt space prompt

visitors to make sense of their own beliefs of life after death. As Annette Hill (2011) notes, “On a

ghost hunt people are more than passive recipients of their physical surroundings, using their

senses to touch and mingle with emotional and psychological matters” (101). The tourist’s

response to their physical surroundings becomes intertwined with their past experiences, and

storytelling is a part of that. Reflected in the ghost hunt’s storytelling response is Victor Turner’s

idea of plural reflexivity, the ways in which a community or group of people “tries to scrutinise,

portray, understand, and then act on itself” (1982: 75). Turner makes the distinction between self-

reflection (an inward thought process), and a reflexive response, which is prompted by an outside

event that encourages more self-awareness. The reflexive response is inspired by communication

between individuals, and by sharing common interests that encourage re-thinking and re-

contextualising beliefs and memories. Turner notes that when members of a community are

united by common understanding, “the contents of group experiences . . . are replicated,

dismembered, remembered, refashioned, and mutely or vocally made meaningful” (1985: 298).

Paranormal investigator Ryan Buell discusses the comradeship between those who believe they

have encountered the paranormal in his book Paranormal State: My Journey into the Unknown.

He discusses the taboo of paranormal beliefs, that “People are afraid to talk about their

experiences for fear of being judged . . . [it] deeply affect[s] them on an emotional and mental

level. Some of those who came to us were relieved just to have someone listen” (Buell and

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Petrucha, 2010: 6). The ghost hunt is a way of validating the unexplainable in the lives of the

participants. As much as it is an investigatory space, it is also one that incorporates the

experiences of each tourist’s personal stories with the paranormal. While the tourist’s sensory

journey is paramount, the ghost hunting tools offer another level of validation and bonding

between participants. If a tourist claims they are experiencing something, their feelings are

confirmed either by the tools or the other participants. The shared narrative of experience on

commercial tours is a spontaneous communitas (Turner, 1969). Through stories, tourists form a

new, different sense of togetherness, in which members project their own memories, feelings and

ideologies, which are shared between participants (Jack and Phipps, 2005: 104). The commercial

investigation is an environment in which meaning is generated and shared, reflected on, and

becomes a part of the social experience.

Independent Investigation with Douglas: The Roles of the Team, Sensitives, and

Spending the Night in an Abandoned Hospital

Many of my early interviews with Douglas included a number of conversations about the

structure of his investigations, and how they differed from the commercial tourism I had grown

accustomed to seeing. As Douglas told me:

We don’t care if anyone’s having a good time, if they’re not bored, because that’s not the
point. There are plenty of times our investigations produced nothing . . . And we sit there

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 all night in the dark not hearing or seeing anything. What do you think tourists would say
if an investigation they spent money on went that way?
For Douglas’s team, intention is paramount, and they place the priority of scientific research

above all. The first investigation I accompanied Douglas’s team on was a visit to an abandoned

hospital. They have asked me not to disclose which one and where, as the hospital has been

fenced off and deemed unsafe to enter. We drove off the main highway and onto a single track

dirt road surrounded by tall grass. There were four of us in the tiny car, the rest of the team in

another car behind us. The young woman sitting in the passenger’s seat, Lily, navigated. The

man sitting next to me, Adam, checked his camera bags for the essentials: three extra battery

packs in case of fail, several different lenses, a hotshoe flash, and two small night vision

camcorders also in case of fail. The camera always keeps running, Adam said. You never want to

get there and find out you don’t have any battery life left.

The independent ghost investigation, as practiced by those like Douglas, emphasises the

importance of documentation in the field, creating an alternative reason for exploring a location

other than to find evidence for ghosts. There is a narrative to the photographs produced by

Douglas’s team, of places with long histories, left to decay and ruin. Those who decide to

become independent ghost investigators often guard their locations, revealing them only to a

select number of people. Like Douglas, many often participate in urban exploration (or urbex, for

short), the practice of recreationally exploring built environments. Douglas’s group refers to

themselves as ruinistas, meaning they prefer to explore ruined and abandoned buildings (also

called DERP: Derelict and Ruined Places) over those in current use. They chronicle their efforts

in online urban exploration forums, which is where they all initially became acquainted with the

members of their team.

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 Due to the nature of their investigations, independent investigators are hesitant to speak

about their experiences to those who have not participated in urban exploration. While some

groups will obtain entry to places with permission, many also enter without proper authorisation,

so exclusivity is their first safeguard against being caught. A number of the buildings that

Douglas explores for investigations – like the hospital we visited that night – are abandoned or

condemned, places that are potentially unsound. Some are guarded by private security (called

seccas), so those trusted individuals they tell about a place include methods of getting in or out

without being detected. Investigators like Douglas separate what they do from commercial

investigations by one very essential difference: they are not solely there to investigate

paranormal phenomena, but to document the place, as well. They seek to take photos of the

decay, the artefacts remaining, and the interior. In their investigations, they are especially

concerned with leaving a place exactly as they found it, so as not to interrupt it as a ghost space.

As Douglas explained, when a company caters primarily to tourism, documentation and

reverence for the place is cast aside, with the tourist experience being given priority. The features

of a place are just as important as the ghosts. When we go in, we pay just as much attention to

both. It’s better that way. In the independent investigation community, sites are meant to be

preserved. The community is committed to archiving and keeping a record of places that have

simply been left to crumble and fall to ruin, forgotten and uncared for. The ghosts are a part of

this record, its history and its modern identity.

It was after dark when we finally parked and approached the hospital. I could see the

large brick building looming in the night, the fencing high and completely surrounding it. It was

late September, so the air was crisp with the start of autumn. Leaves crunched under our feet, so

loud in the still, quiet surroundings. Douglas’s second request was that I not disclose what
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happened next – how we got into the building – to protect it from vandals. I also recognised this

part of the investigation as a test for me. If I had not gone inside, any contacts within the ghost

investigation community would have been cut off, as exploring abandoned dwellings is what

gives them the ability to investigate. Tourism has forced them to adapt: by mixing urban

exploration with investigation when many others have decided to turn to commercial hunting in

order to avoid the dangers of entering abandoned places. So I went with them into the hospital,

the interior so dark that I could barely see even with a torch. It was an eerie place, every sound

coming from somewhere I could not identify. I had been instructed before the investigation to

accompany Douglas and Lily to cover the rooms on the east end of the hospital. In the light of

the torch, I could not help but admire the stained-glass windows still standing as we made our

way through the rooms. The hospital was drafty, cold. Rain pattered through the many holes in

the roof as we made our way to the east wing.

The way independent investigators and commercial hunters ran their groups were

remarkably different, from my experience. Douglas once told me that he requires a level of trust

between everyone in the team. You don’t want to be in a dark building with people you don’t

know or don’t trust. There is also a great deal of importance placed on knowing the personalities

of each member of the team, that they are able to remain calm throughout the investigation.

When teams go to locations, they spend an entire night there – sometimes several nights – and

each member has a certain job. Douglas never invites strangers along because cohesion is

paramount in independent investigations, and everyone must be aware of what role they have

prior to attending. There was another notable difference between independent investigations and

commercial ghost hunts: Douglas did not have a medium on his team. When I mentioned that

every commercial hunt I had attended included one, he explained that mediums were ever only
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available if they were paid to come along (which never happens in independent investigations).

Due to the rarity of their skill, they are able to request pay for their services, which is

unaffordable for those who make little or no money on investigations.

However, Douglas always has at least one sensitive on his team. He explained that there

is a spectrum of extrasensory abilities, and on the far end of the spectrum are those who qualify

for the mediumship. Mediums have the ability to see into the ghost space, interact with spirits, or

describe past and future events. A certain set of skills are required to earn the label of medium, a

rarity because their abilities are either something one is born with, or a gift earned through a

trigger event.73 On the complete opposite end of the spectrum from mediums are those with a

complete inability to sense the spirit realm. Douglas believes that most people fall somewhere in

the middle, but sensitives are more in tune with their skill. Their reasoning for this is that, on

some level, this life prepares us for the day we cross over into our next life in the spirit world.

When sensitive people encounter spirits, they catch a glimpse of what life is like in the ghost

space. The spirit world is considered an extension of our human lives, a passing place between

this life and the next. To be sensitive is to have some awareness – some ability to glimpse – the

ghost space by capturing fleeting voices, smells, touches, or even awareness of spiritual

presence.

Because mediums are so rare for independent ghost investigators to work with, there is

particular importance placed on sensitivity within the community. Despite the fact that they

believe most people are sensitive, it is not common to find those who are either in tune with their

abilities, or who can maintain calm when in the field (and this is also why a medium’s skill is so

73
See: Chapter 4.

206
prized – because those in the community have accepted and honed their abilities). However,

sensitives can be useful because of their ability to sense paranormal activity, making it easier to

direct the rest of the team to rooms or places within a location worth spending time on, and

disregard the rest. Sensitives give the team the ability to utilise their time better, and to direct

cameras and digital recorders to where a sensitive indicates. Their skill also attracts spirits. As

Douglas explained to me, people with the gift – no matter how strong or weak – are beacons for

spirits seeking to communicate with the living.

Lily, who navigated us to the hospital, was the team’s sensitive. She was girl in her mid-

twenties who had also come into ghost investigation by way of urban exploration. Her brothers

took her along to abandoned places in the dark, where she learned to appreciate the photography

and decay of old, derelict buildings. I could always sense things when they took me to places,

images and things. I’ve always had the gift. I asked her how her sensitivity worked. It’s . . .about

feelings, emotions. I can sense presences, sometimes hear or see things. If there’s nothing there,

we document the place and go. It’s never a waste.

In the hospital, Lily was drawn to the conservatory, a derelict room with paint peeling

from the ceiling. The walls were coloured mint green, and the hardwood floors smelled damp

and musty. Douglas set up the camera and began to roll the audio while Lily explored the room. I

definitely feel something here, especially. It’s not coming on strong, but it’s there. The EMF metre

reading was flickering between the green, yellow, and orange lights, which indicated spiritual

presence. The night vision camera showed nothing unusual on its screen, so Douglas decided to

use the digital voice recorder to see if he could pick up any EVP. If there’s any spirit in this room

that would like to say something, please speak into the recorder. Douglas went around the room

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and asked questions aloud to prompt spirit response, the same as on a commercial investigation.

However, Douglas never paused his questioning to play back and listen as John had done on his

ghost hunt. He explained, I clean the recording up and take a listen then. Don’t want to risk any

of the background noise interfering with the audio.

A stark difference between the independent ghost investigation and the commercial ghost

hunt was lack of immediate feedback. When John passed his recorder in the circle and requested

that each participant ask a question, he turned the investigation from the scientific sphere and

into a social one. The question game was for the benefit of the tourists, creating an immediate

sense of an effective investigation through direct evidence of a haunting. Douglas’s investigation,

in contrast, is not a particularly social environment, nor is it meant to be. Our investigations

aren’t really all that fun, he said. You know? You sit around in the dark and hope something

happens. Sometimes it does, sometimes you’re there until the sun comes up and haven’t got a

thing. The camera and the audio recorder did not capture anything worthwhile that night in the

hospital.

Five hours into our investigation, at sunrise, Douglas and his team made the rounds and

began to photograph the space. They captured the peeling, cracked ceilings of the conservatory,

the old radio still left standing. There were old books piled high in one of the rooms, the pages

wet and torn. Ferns grew in the once sound corridors and the early sun shone through the

checkered pink stained glass windows. This was where Douglas’s investigations converged from

commercial ghost hunts, by turning photography into the activity that ultimately united the

investigation as a social activity. His team shared images and took photographs of each other

within the space. It did not escape my attention that this greatly resembled a tourist activity. As

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Elizabeth Edwards (1996: 201) notes, “Photography . . . mirrors the tourist experience in which

fragments are incorporated into a unified experience . . . which from beginning to end, revolves

around images.” Insofar as it was a ghost investigation, it was also an experience united through

the fragmented medium of photography.

Conclusion

As different as commercial and independent investigations are, they ultimately had a

unifying emphasis on storytelling: ghost hunters tell the story of the ghosts, and independent

investigators tell the story of the place. Both incorporate a unique blending of ghost mythology –

ideas of sacred spaces and hidden worlds – and technology to create new ghost lore for a modern

society. Those stories ultimately become intertwined with the history of the spaces investigators

research, and are then adapted and altered to carefully frame the paranormal experience for

tourists. Ghost stories have become a part of the spatial identity of haunted places, just as

important as its history. Both are utilised on commercial ghost investigations, creating an

environment where the tourist experiences a sensory journey, where they engage with the space

on an emotional and physical level. Their stories are posted on the tour company and ghost

hunting websites, and the more they add, the more credence is lent to the vault’s reputation as

one of the most haunted locations in Europe.

The drawback is that these spaces – considered “pure” spaces where the living and the

dead meet – have been taken over by the commercial tourist industry, leaving independent ghost

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researchers to adapt by finding their own spaces. They now chronicle their research in abandoned

buildings, the forgotten and discarded places that have been left standing. Their stories – the

history of the place and the people who once resided there – are now told through the

photographs of the researchers brave enough to enter. Both types of investigation create a unique

experience that incorporates the spatial narrative of a place, a purposeful exploration that

connects history with the present.

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 CHAPTER 6

Ghosts in Popular Culture: Online Paranormal Communities, and the Rise of the

Televised Ghost Hunt

The paranormal has reached a wide, mainstream audience through television and media,

proliferating interest in ghosts and spirits across nations. The fascination with the paranormal in

popular culture has only increased in the last decade, with movies, shows, and documentaries

confronting and reinterpreting the meaning of death and the afterlife. As Deonna Sayed states,

“the paranormal is now cool, and to be associated with it gives one a feeling that they are part of

a larger media culture” (2011: 191). The popularity of these media outlets both reflects and

continues to generate enthusiasm for all things supernatural, and the success of Edinburgh’s

ghost tours74 is demonstrative of a collective fascination with death.

An ever-growing number of television shows are filmed around the “reality” of ghost

hunts and people’s everyday encounters with the supernatural. These shows have been

enthusiastically embraced by television viewers, and their popularity has brought ghost

investigations and stories to an ever-growing audience. People are becoming actively engaged

with the supernatural through different forms of media, from television to the Internet. An

increase of paranormal elements in popular culture has spurred online communities of people

who eagerly participate in conversations about televised ghost hunts. Forum posts consist of

members contrasting what they see on television with their own experiences. As Annette Hill

74
Including dark tourist sites in general.

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argues, “the paranormal as it is experienced within popular culture involves seeing an audience

not as spectators or viewers but as participants” (2011: 2). The keen interests in ghost hunts and

paranormal tourism indicates a social and cultural interest in the unexplained. Through media,

viewers and consumers are more easily able to share experiences and bond with others through a

mutual beliefs and experiences.

Burgeoning enthusiasm for the paranormal is reflected in tourism, as well. Commercial

events are framed around hunts “as seen on TV”, and their success demonstrates a growing

cultural desire for unique, supernatural experiences. However, not all participants within ghost

culture approve of the mounting interest spurred by its visibility in popular culture. Ghost

investigators in particular have expressed their ire toward this new contingent of “amateur ghost

hunters” descending upon locations en masse and causing those spaces to become

commercialised and expensive to investigate. Many of them attribute this recent surge to the

popularity of TV shows that turn the supernatural and ghost hunting into a spectacle for the

audience. In an article in The Guardian entitled How Britain Became a Nation of Ghost Hunters,

Rachel Dixon wrote:

Television is credited with bringing the paranormal into the mainstream, from America's
Ghost Hunters to Britain's Most Haunted. On the latter, spooky experiences happen to
'ordinary' people, from cameramen and makeup artists to members of the public. This,
says [parapsychologist Dr Ciaran] O'Keeffe, ‘has made an interest in the supernatural
more socially acceptable.’ (Dixon, 2009).
The increasing number of citizen ghost hunters has received some backlash from ghost

investigators, who argue that television shows display an exaggerated account of investigations

and create unrealistic expectations of what occurs in the field. Roger Clarke notes that “the

modern ghost hunt is in search of sensation. These days, the TV show is king when it comes to

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the ghost hunt; it has a classless, speedy, problem-solving quality that appeals to the modern

mind” (2012: 34). Ghost hunting on television elicits a quick emotional response; the recorded

events (captured in documentary style with hand-held camcorders) have been speeded up and

spliced together so events seemingly happen at a rapid pace. The effect is a swift increase in fear

and anxiety in the viewer. Dr Leo Ruickbie sums up the style as, “Turn out the lights and run

around in the dark, scaring the pants off yourself and hopefully your audience, seems to be the

general formula” (2013: 29).

The commercial paranormal industry has adopted the quick, sensationalist ghost hunt for

their walking tours. These tours appeal to what Hill (2011) refers to as “armchair ghost hunters”,

those seeking paranormal experiences largely through entertainment means. However, there are

aspects of the commercial ghost industry75 that reflect a wider cultural interest in seeking out

ghosts and attempting to prove that they exist within and alongside our everyday lives. These

individuals aim to share their own personal encounters with the paranormal – a desire reflected

in popular television shows that emphasise emotional, personal confrontations with spectres.76

Supernatural television shows are demonstrative of the anecdotal nature of ghost belief, coupled

with the social process of telling ghost stories and exchanging theories with others. This

communal aspect of storytelling has been vitalised by online communities, in which our

increasingly digitalised society has become accustomed to revealing private moments and makes

75
Vigils and events with mediums.
76
My Ghost Story is a prime example I discuss later in this chapter.

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no exception to their encounters with the spectral. The Internet has created a vast forum in which

people can discuss, debate, and exchange tales with other believers and sceptics alike.77

Despite the amount of research performed on dark tourism and ghosts in the media, there

is a distinct lack of material how increased paranormal exposure has affected both commercial

ghost culture and societal attitudes towards the paranormal. This chapter seeks to fill the gaps in

research and discuss a wider ghost culture both outside and inside Edinburgh. The increased

visibility of the supernatural within popular culture is reflective of an expanding cultural interest

in ghosts – from ghost hunting to ghost stories – that are mirrored within the commercial ghost

industry in Edinburgh. As Hill (2011) states, “Cultural engagement with paranormal matters is

about social relations where a sense of self intertwines closely with that of others.” People not

only seek out these experiences based on the sensationalist depictions on TV, but it is becoming

more common to engage with and share these beliefs with others online.

My Ghost Story: A Personal Narrative of the Supernatural

“Warning! What you are about to see are haunted events encountered by real people.

Some may find it disturbing” –My Ghost Story (Phillips and Ayalon, 2013)

77
Specific online communities will be discussed more in-depth later in this chapter. My main example is
r/Paranormal, a community on Reddit where users share experiences, beliefs, and paranormal theories with other
members.

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 My Ghost Story is an American television show on the Biography Channel. The basis of

the show is centred on the eyewitness accounts and testimonials of people’s personal experiences

with the supernatural. The show is told in a narrative format, with the subject seated against a

black screen as they relate their story, voicing over occasional dramatisations with actors. My

Ghost Story deserves a notable mention in this chapter because it was the original inspiration for

this thesis. I had watched paranormal accounts on television before, and several ghost hunting

reality shows had been well established for several years. However, the personal nature of My

Ghost Story – the vignette style, and the way it addressed belief in the afterlife through the

structure of oral narrative – was a marked contrast to the sensationalised, gritty camera work of

ghost hunting shows. My Ghost Story represents the personal and individualised nature of

paranormal experiences. As Avery Gordon states, “ . . . we are a part of the story, for better or

worse: the ghost must speak to me in some way sometimes similar to, sometimes distinct from

how it may be speaking to others” (1997: 24). While the stories documented in the show have

similarities with one another in regards to spirit manifestations, the narration aspects of the show

demonstrate that the nature of hauntings are, at their core, anecdotal (“my ghost story”) and

personal.

The popularity of My Ghost Story demonstrates a public interest in these stories. Its wide

viewership has even prompted similar styled shows, including a spinoff entitled My Celebrity

Ghost Story in which celebrities detail their personal experiences with the supernatural for the

TV audience. While the idea of celebrities describing their own spectral encounters is the perfect

example of the occasional kitschy nature of how the supernatural is packaged for the consumer,

it also attempts to lend credence to universality of the ghost narrative. Celebrity endorsements

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create an even broader form of visibility for the personal ghost story by presenting it as a

common experience, shared by both every day individuals and famous ones.

This broad outlook continues outside of the Biography Channel; oral narrative structure

has been used on other shows such as Paranormal Witness on Syfy, and The Haunted on Animal

Planet (recounting ghost stories involving animals), which also seek to tell the ghost story from

the perspective of everyday people. The style is particularly notable on Syfy’s Stranded, which

features both paranormal believers and sceptics “stranded” together at potentially haunted

locations. The style of the show includes first person, hand-held night vision cameras to

chronicle the participants’ first-hand accounts and reactions (primarily fear responses) through

video as the events occur.

The increasing number of shows broadcasting this style of ghost stories – involving the

personal nature of the paranormal – displays a growing acceptance of these types of experiences.

Normalisation is represented and exemplified in these shows through the anecdotes of both

celebrities and non-actors, every day people who have had paranormal encounters within their

own lives. Hill (2011) states, “As paranormal ideas and beliefs become part of popular culture

they change meaning. The extraordinary transforms into something more ordinary” (37). By

airing dialogues of people’s personal confrontations with ghosts, television networks create an

increased exposure to paranormal belief. Narratives are then presented alongside popular culture

references and style (such as the camera work on ghost hunts, very reminiscent of the 1999 cult

classic The Blair Witch Project), an association that is internalised by the viewer. Mainstream

ideas about the paranormal are, therefore, largely established through the perspective of media.

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 Just as significant is the role public and televised ghost stories play in acknowledging

death and dying in the mainstream. Clive Seale (1998) posits that modern society is “death

denying”, and that the belief in spirits represents a refusal of contemporary culture to accept the

finitude of death. However, there is a long history of ghost lore and storytelling from generations

before our contemporary culture; the ghost story has been a part of expressing and sharing belief

for centuries. Owen Davies (2007) chronicled ghost belief going back 500 years and cites the

media’s continued coverage of supernatural stories as the reason they maintain ongoing

relevancy (246). He goes on to state that ghosts “pervade our consciousness . . . they are still

with us in what we watch read and hear; they are engrained in our language” (249). The personal

narrative is not a new aspect of ghost culture – indeed, spiritualist culture during the Victorian

age made it commonplace to discuss belief in ghosts both in public and in private, trusted circles.

However, the public and televised ghost story in our technological era creates a new,

dynamic, and interactive dimension to the personal narrative that has never been previously

available to past generations. The media’s ongoing use of supernatural elements for both scripted

television and non-fiction shows has the dual effect of spreading belief and perpetuating

dialogues about the paranormal. The popularity of shows like My Ghost Story and even the

success of Edinburgh ghost tours is a testament to the wide appeal of the supernatural, a belief

that is not defined or limited by religious dogma. Paranormal television shows are significant

because they depict a rising trend in the shared, public narrative. The anecdotal paranormal

narrative is the most enduring aspect of paranormal culture, one that persists in large part due to

popular culture.

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 Commercial ghost events mirror this interest in personal anecdotes within the event

structure. I wrote briefly in Chapter 5 about how the emotional geography on tours is fuelled by

narrative – including stories of outside experiences that motivated members to seek out hunts in

the first place. One of the first questions asked on a commercial ghost investigation is, “Has

anyone here ever experienced the paranormal personally?” Many people who attend raise their

hands. The social atmosphere on certain events is structured around prompting and sharing

personal experience. That personal ghost stories do not operate under the burden of proof within

the commercial community is an aspect derided by those like Douglas, who seek unquestionable

evidence of the supernatural. Ghost investigators stress the importance of proving spectral

presence through the scientific method, and any personal feelings are overshadowed by the need

to verify events as they occur. Douglas once told me, “Experiences prove nothing. We can’t test

feelings. That’s why we have our gear.” In contrast, individual ghost stories (such as those

encouraged through television and commercial hunts) emphasise sorting out and communicating

encounters rather than proving they happened:

Within personal stories of hauntings . . . there is a focus on the individual who provides a
compelling narrative of experience as evidence. In this context, the paranormal becomes
a symbol for popular solipsism, a form of knowledge that prioritises personal existence.
(Hill, 2011: 272).
The increasing emergence of public venues to share ghost stories – such as the online

communities, television, and commercial ghost hunts – reflects a desire to forge social

connections through paranormal encounters. Despite objections from ghost investigators, the

emotional aspect of these narratives produces meaningful dialogue between people who share

beliefs and stories. Tour companies even encourage discussion by asking tourists to post their

reviews and experiences to the Internet. Online posts are seen by other people who have attended

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ghost tours, who then contribute their own stories via social media websites. The Internet has

become an active venue for people seeking to discuss their paranormal encounters, which creates

a sustained, ongoing dialogue that allows a contingent of believers to speak about, consume, and

debate their experiences (Davies, 2007: 248). Online communities incite people make sense of

their beliefs surrounding death and the afterlife through discussion and participation. In the case

of tour companies, forums and storytelling perpetuates a continued, constantly evolving

authentication of tourist spots as haunted.

Deonna Sayed argues that one’s personal experience with the supernatural “becomes a

story that translates meaning in society which filters the experience through language and

symbols communicated” (Sayed, 2011: 11). Many of the most recognisable aspects of ghost

stories, from their manifestations to their behaviour (especially poltergeists) have become a part

of mainstream social consciousness due to their prevalence in media. When individuals share

their personal narratives in public spaces (such as the Internet), their audience processes the story

through an intersubjective practice of meaning-making that is filtered through their own insights

and memories. Often this knowledge comes from popular culture in some form: books,

television, movies and online. The ghost story has become prevalent through these mediums, and

signifies a change in how paranormal experiences are now consumed. Now they are internalised

and elaborated upon in public spaces like social media websites, as well as processed vicariously

through television.

It would be an oversight not to discuss the Internet’s influence in bringing the paranormal

to a worldwide audience. The Internet has created a culture of participation where the once

unseen aspects of daily life have become visible through forum posts and social media websites.

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The communal nature of website forums is a relatively new aspect of anthropological study;

anthropologist Sarah Pink wrote that the “collaborative possibilities that the Internet offers to . . .

anthropologists are yet to be explored” (2011: 228). Michael Wesch broached the subject of

Internet’s collective nature in “Web 2.0” (2007), in which he referred to Internet venues as a

“radically collaborative open-ended ethnography” where people are in a constant process of

sharing new materials (Wesch as cited in Pink, 2011).

Online communities have created a public space for people to discuss common interests

and personal anecdotes about the paranormal. Douglas’s team is one such example: the

discussion over urban exploration and paranormal experiences became the method through

which he found likeminded individuals to form his investigation team. He is not the sole

investigator who formed his group via online communication, either; indeed, many others I

spoke with found nearby contacts through forums, as well.

Paranormal belief is framed, contextualised, and solidified through the abundance of

different tales written out by multiple users. By engaging in Internet discussions, William

Mitchell argues that people participate in digital environments that are reflective of “the sorts of

communities [they] want to have” (1996: 24). Social media transforms the meaning of

relationships by creating a communal atmosphere that is fully international, and can be

successfully curated by each individual to cater to their own interests, desires, and curiosities.

The relative anonymity afforded to Internet users can encourage people to reveal things they may

not be inclined to divulge in face-to-face conversations, such as supernatural experiences. Social

media is integrative and identity-forming, where the lives of members are framed and projected

through photographs, introspection, and personal anecdotes. In the case of paranormal

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communities, online interaction and exchanging of ghost stories allows users to both reinforce

and solidify their own beliefs.

Johanna Sumiala extends Benedict Anderson’s idea of “imaginary communities” to social

media sites. She argues that social media’s lack of confinement to physical spaces means they are

formed through “people’s imagination and their imaginary world of experiences” (2013: 40). She

goes on to cite Charles Taylor’s idea that these types of communities emerge out of how people

imagine their relationship is with other people and their own surroundings, as well as the aspects

that govern those expectations (Taylor as cited in Sumiala, ibid: 23). Imaginary thinking has

become an influential, crucial aspect of both shaping and perpetuating Internet communities,

which are then reinforced by personal introspection and social interaction. As anthropologist

Arjun Appadurai states, “The imagination is now central to all forms of agency, is itself a social

fact, and is the key component of the new global order” (1996: 31). Through imagined

communities, people formulate new identities, relationships, and social interactions on an

international level.

Reddit, one of the Internet’s largest social networking websites, is an example of the

extensive nature of online communication. Reddit is composed of over 200,000 subreddits,

which are smaller communities formulated around individual interests. They can extend

anywhere from hobbies to lifestyles to personal philosophies. The r/Paranormal subreddit boasts

over 50,000 users, and the r/ghosts subreddit has over 11,000 users. Both are communities

created for users to post their own experiences, photographs, and stories to be read and discussed

within the community at large. Posts are tagged meticulously in different categories so users can

easily filter between different topics: meta; photo evidence; video evidence; experience;

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haunting; advice/discuss; [the paranormal] in the news; investigation; debunked; encounter;

findings; unexplained; and other. There is even support offered to those who need to discuss and

receive support for their experiences; one user posted a thread entitled, “Feeling alone? Need to

talk? Want to actively discuss?” in which she writes:

The goal of this chatroom would be to alleviate stress from waiting for pm's or replies
instantly, being able to share and respond much faster and to get to know each other . . .
Together we could settle peoples nerves, help research into stories/experiences and all of
the normal /r/Paranormal jazz, but way faster. (KakashiFNGRL, 2014).78
Forums like r/Paranormal offer a support system, a community in which likeminded

individuals can share paranormal encounters with those who understand, empathise, and who

often have their own tales to tell. Online discussions even have the potential to create lasting

relationships in the physical world, as was the case with Douglas’s team, who met on a forum for

urban explorers. Indeed, there are meet ups posted online for fellow amateur ghost hunters to

join together and “share mysterious images and hunt the eerie inhabitants of the paranormal

realm!” (“Otherside Scotland Paranormal Investigators”, n.d., para. 1). Internet communities

create a sense of camaraderie around certain interests, formulating interpersonal connections

based on shared passions. Sumiala argues that without the restriction of physical relationships,

we “form, transmit, and modify our national imaginations in which we live or have lived, and in

which our lives are formed, transmitted and modified by others” (2004: 44). Through online

communities, people are able to solidify and validate their beliefs, as well as constantly reaffirm

them through extended online interaction.

78
Quoted verbatim.

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 While critics may argue the “realness” of online posts due to the anonymous nature of the

Internet, this point ignores the cultural implications of social media spheres, as well as how

personal narratives have become globally shared and consumed via online forums. Indeed,

Therese Tierney (2013) argues that “Social media is not outside the physical world; on the

contrary, it is designed by, and entangled in, physical world social practices.” She goes on note

the mutually constituted nature of physical and social spaces by comparing social media to a

“novel form of architecture, which creates opportunities for social interaction and ultimately, the

two are intertwined.” (77) Social media also creates a space in which people can interact without

judgment of their mutual interests. On r/Paranormal, some people post for reassurance from

other believers:

I really had no idea where else to go to for this except the internet because no one would
believe me if I brought it up. I've been noticing a lot of strange things happening in my
home. My parents go to bed around 10-11 PM no later at all, if anything it's earlier. I tend
to stay up all night because of terrible nightmares and the feeling something or someone
is watching me. (punkr0cker365, 2013).79
For those involved in paranormal communities, participation in online forums both reinforces

and verifies beliefs and experiences. Members become intrinsically bonded through storytelling,

supernatural encounters and curiosities without fear of judgement. Indeed, it can be argued that

online forums reveal the true, essential selves of the people engaging in conversation. Ben Agger

refers to this as the “worldliness of selves” (2004: 4), in which people absorb information and

join different online communities, as well as engage with popular culture at virtually any time —

even on the go. Among the same line of thinking, Eve Shapiro notes that this construction of the

self on the Internet is “identity work,” in which individuals “process everyday life and

79
Quoted verbatim.

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interaction and, in the process, reinforce and contest established personal and identity scripts”

(2010: 93). Both have encouraged a new form of personal narrative and storytelling on globally

public forums through the imagined communities of the Internet.

Online sharing of paranormal experiences extends to the commercial side, as well. City

of the Dead Tours in Edinburgh encourages people to message them and share their encounters –

and even send photos of injuries believed to be caused by the South Bridge Entity (the

malevolent spirit that haunts their set of vaults). Their website boasts: “The period between the

first recorded sightings in 1999 and the present, have seen over 450 documented ‘attacks’ in the

Black Mausoleum and Covenanters Prison. Of these attacks, an astonishing 140 have caused the

witness to collapse” (“The Mackenzie Poltergeist”, n.d. para. 5). Their Facebook page also

shares tourist stories written on other websites around the Internet: formal reviews; blog entries

written by those who say they were attacked by the South Bridge entity; and Facebook users who

claim to have sensed a ghostly presence while in the vaults. Online posts, photographs, and

conversations are utilised to bolster the tour’s reputation and create an ongoing dialogue about

supernatural activity in the vaults. Discussing the tour via different websites only add to the

numerous personal narratives that have become incorporated into the company’s storytelling

script. Tour companies post tourist photographs and anecdotes on their websites and even include

them on their tours for the benefit of other tourists.80

Indeed, tourist stories shared online are self-perpetuating, as conversations are added to

with new, different experiences. This shared public narrative is an advantage for companies not

80
Mercat includes a collage board of interesting photographs sent to them by tourists. It can be seen in the museum
at their offices after the tour is completed.

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only looking to generate word-of-mouth buzz about their locations, but that further authenticate

their locations as haunted. Online discussions are a continuation of the tourist’s experiences

beyond the vaults and beyond the physical. Storytelling is a way of interacting with other former

tourists who may have similar stories to share.

I am originally from Edinburgh and me and a friend went on the vault tours, at that point
i wasnt as erm.....spiritually minded as i am now so it would be frightening now. But i had
a child behind me whispering in my ear, also another girl on the tour demanded to be
taken back as we heard the guy with the big boots and then someone was holding her
hand although there was nobody next to her. I also heard conversations all the way
through the tour! (Aniaraven, 2007)
The City of the Dead Tours public Facebook page is rife with personal accounts of the

South Bridge entity. Facebook’s option for image attachment allows users to upload their own

photographs for others to comment on and disclose injuries they say were inflicted while on the

tour. In an ongoing conversation on the City of the Dead Tours Facebook wall, one user stated,

“Me an 3 pals went yesterday and I had the chills in the second last room! Came home have 4

scratches on my back!” (Kirsty Cairns, 2014). City of the Dead Tours responded: “. . . feel free to

send us a pic. We collect them to show to unbelievers . . .” (City of the Dead Tours, 2014). The

user followed up with her added experience:

another strange thing was a picture on my camera in the vaults on my phone that was not
taken by me. Though I had my phone on me the whole time. It was a selfie but im away in
the distance and the flash is on. But my phone cant flash with a selfie. And the girls who
were definitely standing beside me at the time where gone from the picture. Very freaky.
(ibid)81
Through Internet discussions, personal narratives have become both flexible and

inclusive; other people can comment and contribute, and the original poster (OP) can update with

new information. Historically, narratives were conducted in physical social circles, where the

81
Conversation quoted verbatim.

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first part of the above story would have been an oral discussion between individuals. However,

the online exchange above exemplifies the fluidity of internet dialogues: stories can be updated,

exchanged, and added to through an extended conversation. The nature of the Internet has added

a new facet to storytelling in that people can create continuous narratives – which individuals

share with the awareness that others may not respond. Stories posted on forums or on Facebook

have no guarantee of becoming meaningful exchanges – they could very well end up buried by

other posts instead. However, this signifies the desire to share unique experiences while hoping

that other people read it, but regardless of whether they do. Therefore one’s story is written as

much for personal introspection as it is for the optimistic expectation that it will be publicly

consumed, discussed, and debated. Therese Tierney notes, “[Online exchanges] enable a process

of reflexive interaction with the potential to contribute to transformative change.” (2013: 77).

The change being both in the form of individuals meaningfully reflecting on their story, but in

the hope that it opens a dialogue with others who share similar stories.

Ghost Hunting: The Televised Ghost Hunt and the Changing Role of the Armchair Ghost

Hunter

In an article on The Guardian website, Rachel Dixon asks the question, “How did Britain

become a nation of ghost hunters?” Citing information from Dr Ciaran O’Keeffe, a

parapsychologist for Britain’s TV program Most Haunted, she states, “. . . there were 150

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amateur ghost groups in Britain in 1999. Now there are 2,500 and counting. Ghostly experiences

can be purchased as gifts online, and sales of "ghost-detecting equipment" are soaring” (Dixon,

2009). The rise in ghost hunting is a testament to an increasing cultural fascination with the

paranormal, where the demand for authentic ghost hunting and frightening experiences creates

more of a supply. Dixon, quoting Fright Night’s founder Martin Jeffrey, discusses the “sense of

commercialism” that has taken over the paranormal marketplace. The market for these types of

experiences is only expanding, fuelled by the increasing visibility of ghosts in popular culture.

Even a cursory Internet search for “ghost hunting in Britain” yields thousands of results, and

“ghost hunting in Scotland” brings up almost as many. The pages range from professional ghost

investigators to amateur ghost hunters to companies hosting weekend “fright fests”, a paid-for

opportunity for untrained citizens to ghost hunt with experts. In an article on CNN, John Blake

writes about, “Why ghost hunters are sexy” and attributes the rise in investigations to a growing

acceptance of the paranormal through television:

Paranormal investigators used to be as coy as the ghosts they tried to coax into the open.
Many hid their vocation from neighbours and friends because they didn't want to be
called kooky. Now they're cool. They speak at corporate events, land book deals and get
appearance fees at college lectures and paranormal conferences (Blake, 2013).
The popularity of ghost hunts has created a movement where people are progressively

interested in the supernatural and become actively engaged in their own investigations. Sayed

notes that “[The paranormal craze] is no longer just about listening to the ghost story; people

now desire to be part of the story and attempt to engage the paranormal in meaningful ways”

(2011: 36). The desire to have unique experiences is only encouraged by popular culture.

Through visual mediums like television, audiences are bombarded with exciting events depicted

on shows like Most Haunted, and seek to recreate those experiences for themselves. Commercial

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ghost hunting for tourists operates as a safe venue for those attempting to encounter and interact

with the paranormal. Paid-for events are based on a format that appeals the most to consumers –

and consumers are eager for ghost hunts like those they see on television.

While it is expected that these shows are sensationalised and cut to create dramatic

tension, audiences both internalise and expect similar experiences in the field. Ruickbie, citing

information he received from Noah Voss, a paranormal investigator who sells ghost hunting

equipment, states, “According to Voss, [a] big change in demand occurred after Ghost Hunters

hit US TV screens. ‘Within a year . . . there was a dramatic shift industry wide. People wanted

what they saw on that TV show and other programming that followed.’” (2013: 37). While many

investigators have little respect for paranormal shows (more than a few I interviewed told me

they found them to be “a bit silly”), these shows have only increased in popularity. More and

more networks are developing paranormal programmes, seeking to copy the documentary-style

format of the televised ghost hunt with their own twist on the subject. From Discovery Channel’s

Ghost Lab (which uses “fringe science” to offer proof of the existence of ghosts) to Syfy’s Ghost

Hunters (two plumbers-by-day who hunt the paranormal at night), these shows all share the same

premise: to document and attempt to prove potential hauntings around the world.

Annette Hill (2011) attributes the rise in popularity of these shows as people looking “for

alternative explanations and ways of perceiving the world. A social trend in paranormal beliefs

and practices helped to create a cultural trend in ghost hunting TV” (2011: 68). Despite the

unrealistic portrayals of ghost hunting on television shows, Hill claims they open up a dialogue

for other avenues of discussion by creating “a symbolic space within which audiences can

explore paranormal beliefs and ideas” (2011: 84). Despite audience awareness that programmes

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are embellished for entertainment purposes, the ambiguous nature of a “live action” approach to

televised ghost hunts forces the audience to become participants. Documentary style camera-

work creates an uncertainty around ghost hunting shows, where viewers find it difficult to tell

what is real and what is not. The filming style is on par with non-paranormal reality shows,

except for the extensive use of night vision camerawork on televised ghost hunts. The grainy,

gritty “realness” bolstered by night vision shots, and occasionally even point-of-view hand-held

camerawork, only adds to viewer uncertainty surrounding depicted events. The documentary

approach to ghost hunts is an intentional blurring of the boundaries between “real” and

“entertainment”, deliberately intended to confuse the viewer into deciding how much they

believe is portrayed honestly. Paul van Dijk argues that the “technically often poor quality boosts

[the suggestion of authenticity]. Such amateur productions function as certificates of authenticity,

which the television programmer uses to decorate the show that is intended to portray true cuts of

the real world” (2000: 51). It is left up to the viewer to decide what aspects of the show have

been embellished for the sake of entertainment, and which are deceptive and untrue.

The format of televised ghost hunts also prompts viewers to use their own perspectives,

beliefs, and experiences to decide the realness of captured paranormal events. Hill (2011) argues

that those who watch ghost hunting shows want to believe, and that by being a viewer they

“perform several parts at the same time – media critic, soft sceptic, open-minded believer. It is an

ethics of self-experimentation where alternative spiritual thinking is played within an

entertainment environment” (83). Avery Gordon refers to this intrinsic self-analysis inherent to

ghosts and hauntings as being a “structure of feeling we come to experience, not as cold

knowledge, but as transformative recognition” (1997:8). The structure of ghost hunting shows

implicitly prompt viewers to examine and draw upon their beliefs, to be self contemplative and
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sceptical. Televised ghost hunts create a deliberate atmosphere of ambiguity for the sceptical

viewer: as long as those in the audience want to believe hauntings are possible, they will

continue to tune in and critically analyse and examine the events on the show.

Certain aspects of ghost hunting shows create points of contention within paranormal

groups, who debate their accuracy. Hill (2011) refers to these individuals as armchair ghost

hunters, an active audience who emotionally react to the events on television and share their

responses and theories online. The r/Paranormal subreddit – aside from being a place for

believers and sceptics to connect – is also popular among armchair ghost hunters who debate the

realness of television shows in the genre. Of the Animal Planet show The Haunted, one user

states: “I watch it more for entertaining my interests in the paranormal than expecting an honest

haunting. I'm sure some episodes have some truth to it, but the amount it's embellished is kind of

a turn off” (Boonitz, 2014).

The visibility of ghost hunting in the media has created a rise in armchair ghost hunting.

Active viewer participation is formed out of the ambiguous nature of reality television, where

people “adopt positions of sceptics and believers, and explore mixed positions of open-minded

sceptics and uncertain believers in paranormal phenomena” (Hill, 2011: 87). The nature of ghost

hunting shows force people to contextualise televised events through their own experiences and

beliefs, which prompt online conversations. Aside from forums like r/Paranormal, the engaging

newsfeed layout of websites like Twitter motivates people to live tweet their favourite shows.

Users comment on, debate, and analyse the content of programmes with other viewers via the

use of designated hashtags. Hashtag use for shows is the most active on nights when an episode

premiers, such as with Ghost Adventures: “Don't care what anyone says! If a spirit says my name

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and says run... IM gunna be gone lol #ghostadventures #GhostsOnReally” (Curtis, 2014).82

Another user that same night states: “Zak's gunna have a hissy fit if anymore [video] batterys get

drained #ghostsonreally #GhostAdventures” (LaurenHeichouxx, 2014).83 The nature of Twitter

creates a virtual living room in which friends across distances watch television shows and

respond in real time, as the show is happening. Thus, armchair ghost hunting has moved onto the

Internet, where people can discuss and debate the facts and fictions of the television show, as

well as work through their own theories. Television becomes a type of virtual tourism, allowing

for a metaphysical journey for the viewer in which they critically examine their beliefs and come

to conclusions based on their analyses.

Emily D. Edwards notes that our ability to engage in these mediated experiences is now

commonplace, but despite it, audiences “still find [excitement] in having vicarious adventures

through shadowy legends, particularly those about the supernatural that have become replayed,

altered, and extended by our media culture” (2005: ix). The popularity of televised ghost hunts is

significant, in part, because their success thrives on the imagination of their viewership. The

result is a vicarious journey beyond physical limitations, mediated by the imagination and

perceptions of the audience. In her writing on human thought processes and mental fantasies,

Marina Warner notes that “language and imagination govern ways of thinking, and from that

work of cognition follow ways of doing. New means of representing the world have ‘realised’

things that were not possible before except in fantasies” (2006: 353). Through the televised ghost

hunts, audiences are instantly (mentally) transported to other locations around the world. Online

82
Quoted verbatim.
83
Quoted verbatim.

231
discussions add to that international reach, allowing users to engage in conversation with those

from afar in a shared, meaningful dialogue about belief, scepticism and the narratives presented

on television. As one r/Paranormal user stated, “The reactions some of them have when

recounting the stories really make me want to believe!” (oryx42, March 2014). Those watching

not only want to believe the realness in what they are seeing, they are eager for televised ghost

hunts to capture proof on film.

Hill (2011) describes the mentality of the audiences as a “revolving door of scepticism

and belief” that “makes people feel there are things which are beyond explanation.” (75). She

goes on to note that the emotional investment in ghost hunting shows are propagated through

“people waiting for a haunting to happen on camera, and . . . these viewers continue round

notions of truth, trust, evidence, and belief. . .” (ibid.: 84). The ambiguous aspects of ghost

hunting shows are what prompt the viewership into a self-analysis that oscillates between

questioning televised events and solidifying their own paranormal beliefs.

The desire for proving the paranormal can prompt certain audience members into trying

to prove the existence of ghosts in their own lives. This viewer for the show Ghost Adventures

used the Twitter hashtag to state, “Haha I just talked to the dead with flashlights and meters.

Scared the crap outta me. Best birthday party ever #GhostAdventures” (Emily, 2014).84 Armchair

ghost hunting has created a rise in the amateur ghost hunter, those who seek to emulate the

scientific methods made popular on TV by formulating their own ghost hunts, complete with the

ghost hunting tools they see on television. BusinessWeek reported that sales for ghost hunting

tools and commercial events showed no signs of slowing down: “Groups of otherwise sensible

84
Quoted verbatim.

232
people paying good money to spend a night in a soon-to-be-closed movie theatre. Folks on the

Internet trolling for brass dowsing rods and crystals that ward off negativity. This is the lucrative

business end of the paranormal” (BusinessWeek, May 2005).

However, people are also seeking easier methods for detecting the paranormal that are

user friendly for those just entering the field of paranormal investigation. Ruickbie’s interview

with Voss discussed the rise in citizen ghost hunters who “wanted ‘unintimidating tools’ that

were easy to use ‘allowing for no to little learning curve and no specific skill set to operate.’”

(Ruickbie, 2013: 37). Among the tools for the uninitiated is the EMF metre – and even that has

become streamlined. For the new technological era of mobile phones small enough to be

pocketed and carried about through our daily lives, there are ghost hunting apps.

Huffington Post reported on a new iPhone app that emulates the classic EMF metre:

“your iPhone can now be used to hunt down ghosts in your attic, basement or crawlspace, thanks

to a newly created attachment called Mr. Ghost” (Jason Gilbert, 2012). Mr. Ghost emerged

through Kickstarter, an online crowdfunding platform intended to bring proposed ideas to

fruition when they are “backed” by citizen donations. Mr. Ghost was a project started with the

intended goal of raising a minimum of $7,000 worth of donations to produce both an app and a

detector attachment which plugs into the headphone jack of the phone. In the end, the project

received $35,136 in donations, well over its intended goal. Aaron Rasmussen, the creator of Mr.

Ghost, stated in his project proposal that the metre was useful because, “humans can't help but be

curious. Learning about an unseen world in your own home is exciting.” (Rasmussen, 2012).

Through the immediacy of the Internet, novel experiences can be easily purchased and

consumed. The availability of ghost hunting tools – and the advent of more accessible ways of

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both obtaining and tailoring them to inexperienced, citizen ghost hunters – creates new methods

of interacting with the paranormal within our own lives.

Perhaps more significantly is how the increase in ghost hunting technology sales is

indicative of how the sceptic/believer dynamic plays out in real life. Certainly, the burden of

proof is an aspect that both televised ghost hunts and the traditional ghost investigation share,

which has become internalised by viewers. That is, what viewers see in the media is another

filter for how they interpret the paranormal, and the tools of the ghost hunt have become

synonymous with how people now experience ghosts.

Another facet that prompts viewer participation is in differentiating fact from fiction in

televised ghost hunts. The desire to prove paranormal belief drives people to online forums such

as r/Paranormal, and to conduct their own investigations. People want to create their own

narratives and gather evidence through their own experiences. Increasing interest in the

supernatural experience has created a demand not only for ghost hunting tools, but has formed a

vibrant commercial ghost industry, which is reflected in Edinburgh. The public’s interest in

consuming death through ghost stories and hauntings is nothing new, and even

commercialisation of hauntings has been around long before the televised ghost hunt. Roger

Clarke notes that “The business of ghosts has never been far away from the business of ghosts.

There always seems to be someone profiting from a good ghost story” (2012: 286). However,

ghost hunts as commercial tourist endeavours has only grown in the last decade. Even hotels and

bed and breakfasts entertain guests with organised hunts conducted by paranormal experts. Event

hosting companies such as Fright Nights – which claims to be the first commercial ghost hunting

company that hosted overnight stays at a location – caters to the uninitiated and amateurs:

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“Fright Nights [provides] the best ghost hunting experiences to the general public . . . If you have

never attended a ghost hunt before, then our ghost hunting nights are ideal for the novice or more

experienced attendees” (“Welcome to Fright Nights”, n.d. para. 1). While Fright Nights boasts

that it was the first company if its kind, it now has a surge of competition from other commercial

ghost hunting ventures seeking to take advantage of increased public interest with their own

overnight ghost hunts. Dixon posits that it was the success of Most Haunted that “seemed to be a

major trigger for the setting up of new ghost-hunting companies” (Dixon, 2009). For those

individuals looking for an experience beyond the armchair, Yvette Fielding and Ciaran O’Keefe,

the presenters of the show Most Haunted, wrote a section in their book that encourages people to

seek out commercial ghost investigations before trying it alone:

Generally we don’t encourage people without training or experience to conduct a

paranormal investigation. Before you head off, camera in hand, to that haunted cemetery,
it really is important that you have some idea of what you are doing, what you need, and
what you can expect . . . we also recommend that you contact an established organisation
in your local area for information or advice, and also join them on a workshop or
investigation, rather than striking out on your own straight away (Fielding and O’Keefe,
2008: 8).
When questioning citizens about ghost hunting and their reasoning for attending events,

Ruickbie noted that many had similar answers, such as “interested in simply exploring the

unknown” and “helping people, even helping spirits, was also mentioned.” Some people did see

the thrill as the main attraction, as well as “doing something different” (Ruickbie, 2013: 33). The

excitement of the paranormal is used in advertisements for various events, encouraging people to

join for fun, “as seen on TV”. Television has created a highlight reel, where viewers only ever

see interesting, entertaining, and exciting experiences, rather than the hours of downtime spent

setting up cameras and filming to find proof of ghosts. The ghost investigators I interviewed

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while in the field were quite derisive of amateur ghost hunters, who they claimed saw the

investigatory experience as “having a laugh with their mates.” As Douglas told me:

I don’t want to discourage anyone from joining up and investigating ghosts if they want
to. But I have a problem when they join up with people who have no experience, and
that’s the problem. Anyone can form a group and say they’re the real deal, a “ghost
investigator,” but if they get their ideas from TV shite, they’re hurting the rest of us.
They’re making us look like a joke.
This attitude from ghost investigators has been imposed onto the commercial ghost tours

and hunts for reflecting the TV-like experience of quick scares. The promise of a paranormal

experience like those on television is the method through which many companies advertise their

events. This method of advertising is especially effective for places that have been investigated

on television, such as the Edinburgh vaults. Rodanthi Tzanelli notes that when tourists watch

television, they use their imagination to explore new places and settings at a distance, and that

their initial interest in visiting a location starts with a journey that was originally commenced on

screen (2007: 3). These armchair tourists are similar to armchair ghost hunters in that their

interest in certain locations begins with its portrayal on television.

Through the physical experience of ghost hunting, tourists are able to seek out answers to

the ambiguous nature of paranormal shows for themselves. Participation allows them to engage

with ghost hunting in a new, personal way – while also keeping in mind what they originally

witnessed on television shows. Marina Warner notes, “Seeing and visualising bring personal

consciousness into play and demand active engagement, interpretation, shaping, and not passive

receptivity” (2006: 121). People are interested in formulating their own narratives around the

paranormal, rather than just passively watching stories played out on the television. This user on

Twitter demonstrates how effective ghost hunts are at bringing visitors to televised locations:

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“Heading to Portland, Oregon for a vacation! Maybe I'll try to tour some haunted places that the

#GhostAdventures crew have been to! #excited” (Beecher, 2014).85

Richard Southall wrote about this phenomenon when he visited Moundsville Penitentiary

after its feature on MTV’s now defunct television show Fear. The prison started its own ghost

tour, which had attendees “numbered in the thousands” since the episode aired. Southhall noted

that visitors wanted “to see where the episode of MTV’s Fear was filmed and to experience their

own paranormal encounters” (2003: xxix). The popularity of televised locations points

significant interest in seeking out answers pertaining to the supernatural. Popular culture only

bolsters the general public’s fascination with death, dying and the afterlife by making it more

visible through media (Craig and Thompson, 2012: 181). Haunted places have become

significant to the tourist gaze because paranormal television shows and ghost hunts act as a form

of advertising. The draw itself is in the potential for experiencing ghosts, and in the tourists

having the opportunity to construct their own investigations. In ghost hunting, the mundane

landscapes of everyday life become altered by an unseen world that is suddenly both made

visible and easily accessible to anyone willing to pay. As the interest and prevalence of haunted

locations grows, competition for the “most haunted” locale, and any perceived paranormal link

only makes the location more desirable to the tourist gaze. John Urry notes that a feedback loop

is essential to the tourist’s mental construction of a place:

Places are chosen to be gazed upon because there is an anticipation, especially through
daydreaming and fantasy . . . Such anticipation is constructed and sustained through a
variety of non-tourist practices, such as film, TV, literature, magazines, records and
videos, which construct and reinforce that gaze. (1990: 3)

85
Quoted verbatim.

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 The emergence of new and successful television shows that advertise locations and

normalise hauntings has enabled the paranormal to be further commercialised. Viewers gaze

upon ordinary people encountering the extraordinary and paranormal through television shows

and seek that experience for themselves. Perhaps just as significantly, locations that may not

have previously desirable to visit are suddenly appealing due to their connection to televised

ghost hunts: abandoned buildings, prisons, cemeteries, and other sites of urban decay. For the

ghost tourist, the appeal of a location is entirely dependent upon its potential for a haunting, and

for a good personal story.

Conclusion

The visibility of ghosts in popular culture demonstrates a widespread cultural interest in

the paranormal. While the televised ghost hunt may present itself as a form of entertainment,

viewers become active participants by mentally engaging with the material, and taking part in

online discussions that analyse the ambiguity of television shows to evaluate their own beliefs

and theories. For other viewers, the next level is in seeking out the paranormal to create their

own personal experiences, either through tours or commercial ghost hunts. In seeking out unique

experiences, tourists create a structure of participation: from the television, to the physical tour,

and later to engaging in online discussions. Commercial ghost hunting companies encourage

tourists to continue the tour through a mental journey, by sharing narratives on social media and

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forums. Through shared narratives, people consume and debate each other’s experiences, what

Hill (2011) argues is “mediated realities and personal realities to find out for themselves what

they believe or not” (88). The process by which individuals make sense of the unseen world

around them is developed, reinforced, and solidified through media outlets.

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 DISCUSSION

The arguments I have made this thesis were a culmination of a broad fieldwork

experience and a complete shift from my original focus on the storytelling within tours. After I

had spent months familiarising myself with the structure, content, and themes of walking tours, I

happened upon an advertisement for a night with a medium, hosted by Mercat Tours. At around

the same time, I first picked up Annette Hill’s Paranormal Media (2011), which had only been

published after my fieldwork on ghost walks was well under way. It was one of the few full-

length academic works which analysed aspects of ghost culture from a contemporary, non-

secular perspective. I noted that Hill’s chapter on commercial ghost events was an

unconventional take on the subject; it focused on the human element, emphasising the emotional

geography of tours. I was struck in particular by her description of paranormal events as sensory

journeys, an environment which attunes individuals to their emotions, beliefs, and the memories

of their past experiences. This is especially true of ghost hunting events, where the long hours

spent within purposeful darkness has a marked emotional impact. The induced lack of sight

creates a deliberate feeling of isolation, where the other senses become heightened. Hill

attributes the overall result as being similar to an extreme sport: elevated adrenaline induces an

acute fear response which makes people more open to the suggestion that they are encountering

the paranormal (2011: 100). Sensory engagement is the focal point of believer events, in that

attendees confront their feelings of fear together, as a social and inclusive exercise, in order to

fully open themselves up to sensing the world of the dead.

Hill’s analysis of ghost hunts inspired me to seek out events beyond ghost tours. When I

was presented with the opportunity to sit in at the event hosted by a medium, I made the decision

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to attend regardless of my initial trepidation. Despite it being a new experience, I went with the

goal of exploring the ways in which contemporary ghost stories and death spectacles played out

in other events. I sought to compare the narratives of emerging believer events to the research I

had already gathered on ghost tours, intending to offer a broad perspective of paranormal

storytelling within commercial culture.

The experience, which I detailed for the first vignette in Chapter 4, changed the direction

of my fieldwork and this thesis. I noted the emotional responses of those who interacted with

Lenore, the medium, and the different ways in which Spiritualist beliefs had become

incorporated into her readings. A fascinating amalgamation of ritualistic imagery, Spiritualism,

and ghost folklore framed the event, as well as the way in which Lenore described the spirit

world to tourists. More than that, the other attendees did not resemble the crowd of tourists I had

grown familiar with in walking tours. Their responses were both poignant and clearly

emotionally invested in Lenore’s readings. It was the first event I had attended that specifically

capitalised on ghost belief, and it changed the way I regarded the paranormal industry.

At that point I had been residing in Edinburgh for almost a year gathering information

about the walking tours. The prospect of broadening my research so late into my fieldwork was

equal parts exciting and frightening. Though my initial research remained relevant to my overall

focus on the commercialisation of ghost culture, I was presented with the intimidating prospect

of lengthening my time in the field to investigate the beliefs and practices of a paranormal

community of which I was unfamiliar. The new focal point of my thesis itself did not become

clear until I had spent some time attending commercial believer events, as well as interacting

with individuals who were active within the community. I interviewed a number of mediums,

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ghost hunters, and ghost investigators to broaden my knowledge of the paranormal and differing

ghost culture beliefs. I collected input on the relationship between popular culture and tourism

and participated in a wide range of different events (both commercial and independent). During

the latter half of my research, I came to understand that the existing analyses on the commercial

paranormal industry – which heavily focused on the theatre and spectacle in walks – had left the

cultural framework for the success of ghost tours unaddressed.

Scotland, in particular, represents a microcosm of ghost culture that is entirely unique to

this country. While commercial paranormal industries exist elsewhere (notably in the United

States, where the Spiritualist movement first gained ground), Scotland’s national identity is

linked with the paranormal. The landscape became romanticised through the imagery of the

Highlands and the “mystical Celt”, which created the basis for the othering of Scottish culture.

The spectres prominent in Sir Walter Scott’s work and other literature in the 19th century, as well

as the rise of Spiritualism during the Victorian era, solidified the commercial appeal of a

supernatural Scotland to tourists.

While the popular view of a mystical Scotland created the precedence for the saleability

of the paranormal in the country’s contemporary tourist industry, it does not explain the success

and continued development of the paranormal niche. The most conspicuous reason for the

expanse and success of ghost tourism is the growing visibility of the supernatural in popular

culture. The use of the spectral on television shows, as well as the continued emergence of new

and unusual takes on ghost investigations, is reflective of a wide cultural interest in unexplained

phenomena. After all, tourists become interested in visiting new sites based on certain forms of

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external suggestion, which includes seeing them on television and the internet. Haunted places

featured in television shows see a surge in tourism after the feature (Dixon, 2009).

Media has changed the way tourists experience sites. Though the tourist’s journey has

long commenced at home (through books and television), the internet has made it possible for

tourists to engage with a site on a heretofore unprecedented level. The prevalence of internet

reviews, online posts, and photo sharing has extended the tourist’s experiences into the digital

realm. Their photographs, stories, and personal anecdotes are used by companies to legitimise

sites as authentically haunted. Though online sharing, interaction with the paranormal has

become an increasingly social activity, through which people’s beliefs are debated, supported,

and solidified in a communal context. The paranormal industry is successful through an

interworking of unique experiences and the emergence of new events which perpetually re-

authenticate places as haunted. Re-authentication is performed with each new experience and

photograph shared through social media. As these stories spread, the sites are made even more

visible to potential future visitors.

As the paranormal industry grows to accommodate more tourists, the beliefs, tools,

practices, and theories of ghost culture becomes increasingly incorporated into both television

shows and commercial events. Therefore, the appropriation of ghost culture is not a singular

occurrence: it begins with popular culture until a demand for these experiences builds, and

commercial events fill that burgeoning desire for unique experiences. The event becomes framed

around what paying customers expect to see, which greatly resembles the intense, tension-filled

televised ghost hunt.

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 However, the demand for unusual experiences affects the commercial industry in another

way: it creates more opportunities for believer events. Ghost walks are the most basic aspect of

the commercial paranormal industry; they attract a number of visitors because they are short

activities which can be completed in an afternoon. Believer events, in contrast, attract tourists

who desire unique experiences, and to become participants on hunts which seek to interact with

and prove the existence of the spectral. These events attract people from all over the UK and

internationally who spend entire nights in allegedly haunted locations. The increasing number of

believer events mirrors an overarching cultural interest in pursuing answers for the unknown and

unexplained.

However, the influx of new events and tour companies has created a saturated market.

Nowhere is that more apparent than in Edinburgh, where the signs of oversaturation are

beginning to show in several ways. Perhaps the most immediate, visible indication is the sheer

number of advertised ghost tours on Edinburgh’s Royal Mile. In December 2013, the Edinburgh

Council responded to complaints about guides standing around with placards and passing leaflets

out to passerby’s walking down the Mile. In an attempt to lessen the “clutter”, the Council has

proposed that tour company promoters share the space in Grassmarket, Parliament Square, and

Hunter Square. Jan Henderson, owner of City of the Dead Tours, has stated that it would be a

“bloodshed”. He adds:

At the moment we all work together, we work next to each other and we have an
understanding. This could completely destroy that and have us fighting against each other
in the street. All of the smaller businesses will completely go out of business as they can’t
compete with larger companies who have a lot more staff. The council say they want to
level the playing field but that’s like having a Tesco next to a hot dog stall. It’s a lovely
idea but, in reality, logistically it’s not possible (Henderson quoted in Pickles, 2013).

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As of now, tour companies work like something of an extended family of businesses. They each

have individual spaces separate from one another, at different sites throughout the city, so the

competition is minimised and fair. If the Edinburgh Council goes forward with restricting tour

company advertising to three locations, businesses will be forced to innovate the ways in which

they appeal to tourists, or they will sink and the bigger companies will be forced to compete with

one another.

Competition has become more exacerbated for ghost hunters and investigators, as well.

This is evident in the restricted level of accessibility to certain locations. Now wildly popular

locations that are allegedly haunted are becoming less open to independent investigators. Instead,

they require paid-for access from professional ghost hunters who host money-making events.

Independent investigators realise they are on the losing end of this competition; with no money

to support their investigations, they are forced to come up with creative ways to investigate.

Urban exploration is one option for teams like Douglas’s. Another is to seek out places beyond

the United Kingdom entirely.

When I last spoke with Douglas, he was planning his first trip to the Netherlands, set to

commence in July 2014. My team’s got our tickets, he told me. We’ve got a few contacts there

suggesting places to explore. Things are just too intense around here. Kind of feel like we’ve seen

all there is, anyway. While Douglas could continue to explore abandoned places in Scotland, the

increasing commercialism of the paranormal is a source of frustration for him. Too many ghost

hunters, not enough places, he claims. Many independent investigators like him are beginning to

consider Scotland to be a lost cause due to the tourist influence that is turning Scotland’s ghost

culture increasingly more commercialised.

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 While tourism has been a main influence in the progressively commercialised nature of

allegedly haunted locations, the heightened visibility of paranormal investigations on television

has inspired a growing contingent of amateur ghost hunters. For every ghost hunter who is

hoping to prove the existence of ghosts through science, there are just as many entering the field

seeking money and, yes, fame. The effect is a decreased availability of certain locations within

Edinburgh due to the rising demand for new places to investigate. The proliferation of amateur

ghost hunters has even become noticeable outside Scotland’s own paranormal community. John

Blake wrote an article for CNN entitled, “Ghost Hunters Haunted by New Terror: Competition,”

in which he notes how television has effectively altered the number of hunters within ghost

culture:

The allure of fame . . . has done what the forces of darkness could not do -- turn ghost
hunters against one another. The stars of some paranormal shows feud over whose show
is real or fake. Local ghost-hunting teams refuse to work together because they see each
other as business rivals. Some teams refuse to share spooky "evidence" captured on film
because they plan to use it as a demo tape for a potential television pilot or a Hollywood
movie like "The Conjuring," investigators say (Blake, 2013).
The result in Edinburgh is a ghost culture that is becoming more marketable, and where belief

has become a commodity to be exploited.

However, there is another factor to consider, which I have sought to present in this thesis:

the increased number of different paranormal events presents a wealth of opportunities for

tourists, both believers and sceptics, to engage with the paranormal on their own terms. While

the industry in Scotland will almost certainly peak and go into a decline – as it has done before in

its history – this recent insurgence of paranormal businesses will only further entwine Scotland

with the supernatural.

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 CONCLUSION

The aim of this thesis was to present and analyse aspects of Edinburgh’s paranormal

industry, and to explore certain elements which have been appropriated from an overarching

ghost culture. Specific attention was paid to the terminology, beliefs, investigatory tools, and

ghost types which companies have incorporated from Spiritualism, ghost culture and folklore,

into a packaged experience for tourists. I sought to present the paranormal industry with a firm

consideration of these wider cultural influences as a contrast to current anthropological literature

which largely examines the spectacle of commercial ghost events. Indeed, I would say that one

of my goals in writing this thesis was to challenge the general assumption that commercial ghost

events exist solely as a form of entertainment. Rather, the industry is shifting to capitalise on

growing paranormal belief. The increasing number of successful ghost hunts and other believer

events points to an upsurge in paranormal tourists, who come to Scotland to experience the

extraordinary within the country’s uncanny landscapes.

The chapters that comprised this thesis were split by two distinctions: Chapters 1 and 6

explore the historical and contemporary context of tourism, with investigating the overarching

nature of Scottish national identity and its enduring connection to the uncanny and supernatural;

and Chapters 2 through 5 concentrated on fieldwork, which included analyses, participant

observations, recordings and interviews, supplemented with internet posts of tourist experiences.

This intentional framework in my thesis structure was meant to demonstrate the long history of

paranormal belief and tourism in Scotland, and the ways in which it has both endured and

evolved into the present digital era.

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 In a modern age when paranormal tourism has become popular and lucrative in cities

across the world, Chapter 1 highlighted how Scotland is a unique case due to its history: namely,

that the paranormal and Scottish national identity are inextricably entwined, and this connection

has created the basis for its tourist industry. In this chapter, I drew on the larger anthropological

discussions of Scottish culture and how the country and its landscapes became connected to the

uncanny. The supernatural has its roots in Scottish folklore that was first made popular by

English tourists such as Samuel Johnson and later in the works of Sir Walter Scott; their tales of

ghosts and the second sight spread outside of Scotland during a Romantic age when ideas of the

mystical Celt had taken hold of the British imagination. In the latter half of the 19th century —

during the post-Enlightenment — supernatural belief gained new ground in Spiritualism. This

section of the chapter discussed how spiritualism and commercialism became linked, as well as

how emerging technologies became a vital component in investigating spectres. These

spiritualist methods of “experiencing” the supernatural are the basis for Scotland’s contemporary

tourist industry.

In Chapters 2, 3, 4 and 5, I focused on several different areas of commercial ghost events

and how they connect to beliefs in ghost culture, ritual, and overarching anthropological works

on tourism. Chapter 2 comprised the bulk of my early fieldwork, where I analysed the structure

of walking tours. My foremost interest was in how tour guides constructed a mental image of

what I refer to as the ghost space, a parallel reality alongside the realm of the living where ghosts

reside in their own pocket dimensions of time and place. This ghost space is a spacial framework

for certain ghost archetypes that I recorded across different tour companies. How these spirits are

believed to interact with humans alters the way in which they experience their own ghost space

— from malevolent spirits who are aware of living humans as they move alongside the ghost
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space, to unaware spirits who repeat their own daily rituals from their own life. This chapter

further discussed where these stories drew from existing Scottish folklore on spectres, as well as

from Spiritualism and ghost culture, to establish the context for hauntings in the vaults.

In contrast, Chapter 3 explored the spectacle involved in walking tours. Ghost tours are

among the many topics discussed in emerging anthropological literature on dark tourism,

involving sites that are associated with death. Dark tourism literature I researched for this thesis

largely focused on the theatrical nature of ghost tours, and this dissertation would not feel

complete if I ignored such a prominent topic. Ghost walks do closely follow the structure of

street theatre in that they have tourists take on “roles” and participate in the performance for the

amusement of their peers. However, I argued that by overly focusing on the aspect of “play” and

using that as a resolute determination of “authenticity”, dark tourism literature neglected the

atmospheric, phantasmagorical nature of walking tours. Rather, the storytelling formulates a

mental space in which past and present intersect, where the living and the dead interact, and

where ghostly experiences are a part of the package sold to tourists.

This is a topic I further investigated in Chapters 4 and 5, by detailing examples of what I

refer to as believer events, to distinguish them from the walking tours. Believer events are

organised with tour companies, and marketed to amateur ghost hunters and paranormal

enthusiasts alike rather than the casual tourist. These chapters were divided to devote discussion

to two key aspects of believer events: mediumship and investigation.

Chapter 4 detailed three vignettes that focused on those within the mediumship, gifted

individuals who can see or sense the ghost space, as well as spirit presence. Mediums are

considered to be important within the ghost community, due to their ability to act as a go-
249
between for investigators — a skill increasingly utilised by tour companies to frame the

experience for tourists. However, a medium’s interpretation of the spirit world is not

homogenous. I explored the difference between how a medium from the Spiritualist church and

those who participated on investigations presented the ghost space for tourists.

My discussion on the role of mediums and the increase in believer events within

Edinburgh’s tour circuit leads neatly into Chapter 5’s critical examination of how the

commercialisation of the supernatural has affected access and investigation of certain sites within

the city. The popularity of ghost tourism and an increasing number of television shows detailing

paranormal investigation has created an influx of people seeking extraordinary experiences. This

has forced Scotland’s ghost investigators to split into conflicting groups: ghost hunters (those

who make money on their expertise; they often organise tourist events) and ghost investigators

(who believe in the importance of scientific proof of spirits). The two vignettes in this chapter

highlighted the contrasting methods of ghost hunters/investigators, as well as how growing

tourist demand to experience the Scottish uncanny has forced investigation groups to adapt to an

expanding paranormal industry.

Chapter 6 further expanded upon the commercialisation of the Scottish supernatural,

which was a key theme in this thesis. While Chapter 1 illustrated that paranormal draw of

Scotland has a long history, Chapter 6 explored the contemporary context of the tourism

industry: namely, the ways in which the internet and television have altered how tourists engage

with a site. I examined how television has played a role in inspiring a new generation of amateur

ghost hunters to seek out the paranormal, as well as how televised hunts build anticipation for the

tourist. Tour companies and for-profit ghost hunters are now expected to create an experience “as

250
seen on TV” to construct an “authentic” experience for the tourist. I analysed the ways in which

visitor expectations are further enhanced through online discussion. Internet forums, posts, and

pictures allow prospective tourists to engage with those who have already been on tours, and

companies encourage tourists to discuss their own experiences and share photographs online.

Online galleries of glowing orbs, human-shaped shadows, and spirit-induced injuries only add to

the reputation of tourist sites and their increasing popularity.

My discussion at the end of this thesis offered some perspective on how my own personal

views changed through the course of my fieldwork. I especially wanted to note that Annette

Hill’s observations in her book Paranormal Media on the sensory and communal nature of ghost

walks inspired me to explore beyond the subjects of storytelling and spectacle to embrace the

inclusion of believer events. The paranormal industry has, quite simply, grown beyond ghost

walks. To write another anthropological work devoted solely to the paranormal as entertainment

would have been a crucial oversight, as Edinburgh’s ghost culture has become vibrant and broad

in its scope of events. The lucrative paranormal industry has already spread outside the city and

taken hold in places across the country, from Glasgow to Aberdeen. The spectre has become as

much a part of Scottish identity as the tartan; it is a feature within its landscapes and its

cityscapes. Now it is a part of what attracts visitors from all over the world who are seeking the

extraordinary.

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APPENDIX A

Cross section of the South Bridge Vaults

252
 APPENDIX B

University Teaching and Research Ethics Committee

18 April 2014
Elizabeth Holzhauser (090013806)
Department of Social Anthropology

Ethics Reference No: SA8144

Please quote this ref on all correspondence

Project Title: Edinburgh's Tourist Industry: Ghostlore, Death as a Spectacle, and

Reconstructing History

Researchers Name(s): Elizabeth Holzhauser

Supervisor(s): Dr Stan Frankland

Thank you for submitting your ethical application form which was considered at the Social
Anthropology School Ethics Committee meeting on 09/07/11. The following documents were
reviewed:

 Ethical Application Form

The University Teaching and Research Ethics Committee (UTREC) approves this study from an
ethical point of view. Please note that where approval is given by a School Ethics Committee
that committee is part of UTREC and is delegated to act for UTREC.

Approval is given for three years. Projects, which have not commenced within two years of
original approval, must be re-submitted to your School Ethics Committee.

You must inform your School Ethics Committee when the research has been completed. If you
are unable to complete your research within the 3 three year validation period, you will be
required to write to your School Ethics Committee and to UTREC (where approval was given
by UTREC) to request an extension or you will need to re-apply.

Any serious adverse events or significant change which occurs in connection with this study
253
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you to Rob as well for the talk about the Kirkyard's literary influences that was truly
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