This article initially appeared in a print issue of the Monitor published 31 Oct. 2025.

Every October, campus gets a little weirder. Someone swears their dorm is haunted. Someone else hears footsteps when they’re studying alone. A friend tells you about a “cold spot” in the hallway. It’s fun, honestly. But if we take a step back (and maybe turn the flashlight on for a second) it’s pretty clear: Ghosts aren’t real.

And that’s okay.

The Science (or Lack Thereof)

Despite hundreds of years of stories, no one has ever produced real, consistent evidence that ghosts exist. There are no verified photographs, no measurable energy readings, no scientific studies that stand up to scrutiny. Paranormal shows like to toss around fancy gadgets and blurry “orbs,” but what you’re really seeing are dust particles, light reflections or camera malfunctions.

So, if the science isn’t there, why do so many of us feel like ghosts are real?

The Psychology of Being Spooked

Humans are wired to find patterns. When you hear a strange noise in the dark, your brain instantly goes into alert mode, searching for meaning. That rustle might be wind, or the building settling, or a ghost, but your instincts don’t care. Your mind fills in the blanks, because it’s safer to assume “something’s there” than to risk ignoring a threat.

There’s even a term for it: pareidolia—our tendency to see familiar shapes, especially faces, in random objects or patterns. That shadow that looks like a person? That reflection in your window that moves when you do? It’s your brain connecting dots that don’t actually form a picture.

And, of course, our surroundings don’t help. Dim lighting, old pipes, uneven floors and weird acoustics are all the classic ingredients for a haunting.

Why We Keep Believing Anyway

Even if the evidence doesn’t exist, the stories persist, and maybe that’s the real point. Ghost stories have always been a way to explore what we don’t fully understand: death, grief, guilt, memory. They give shape to emotions we can’t easily talk about.

When someone says, “I think my grandmother’s ghost visits me,” what they might really be saying is, “I miss her, and I wish I still felt connected to her.” Believing in ghosts can be comforting.

And for those of us who don’t believe, there’s still something undeniably fun about pretending we do. Ghost stories are social. They bring people together. They let us feel a little rush of fear in a completely safe way. A creaky dorm becomes a shared adventure instead of just a maintenance issue.

The Comfort of the Rational

If anything, knowing ghosts aren’t real makes the world a little easier to live in. You don’t have to worry about angry spirits rearranging your furniture or following you down hallways. There’s comfort in understanding how things work. Science doesn’t take the magic out of life; it replaces superstition with something even more fascinating: reality. The fact that our brains can create entire ghost stories out of shadows and sound is its own kind of mystery.

This article initially appeared in a print issue of the Monitor published 31 Oct. 2025.

It’s officially the end of October which means the spooky season is upon us. Street decor is littered with witches, ghouls and, of course, ghosts, but this is all just decoration… right? There has been a prolonged debate throughout history about whether ghosts exist or are simply figments of people’s imagination. Ancient texts suggest that ghost stories have been told since the time of Mesopotamia and ancient Egypt, where there was a belief that spirits lived after death and moved on to the afterlife. In Greece and Rome there are letters that suggest some people believed in ghosts as spirits that stayed in their resting place after death. 

Moving to the present day, society typically understands ghosts through pop culture references. Movies, such as “The Conjuring” and “Beetlejuice”, depict ghosts as spirits that either have unfinished business or are seeking revenge. The plots of these stories follow the same general message, where ghosts are something that should be continuously feared. However, I believe the historical examples of ghosts are more accurate to what these spirits, if they do indeed surround us, are like.

I have mixed feelings about ghosts. If ghosts do indeed exist, my idea of them doesn’t necessarily align with the pop-culture ghost. I would hope that they more resemble spirits of past loved ones looking over their living relatives. A few religions, such as Christianity, see ghosts as almost a guide throughout everyday life. In Christianity the Holy Ghost is meant to steer people down the path of righteousness and lead them out of the dark. I think this image of spirits and ghosts is beautiful because it depicts them as guides and caregivers. There are passed members of my family that I miss, and there is something comforting about the idea of them looking over me in spirit. This, to me, paints a more realistic picture of what ghosts are meant to be: spirits who protect and guide the living. 

Now, this description of ghosts probably isn’t what you were thinking when you decided to break out your jack-o-lanterns and costumes, but I feel it gives meaning behind the symbol we see so often around Halloween. The idea of a ghost doesn’t have to be an image that strikes fear into kids and horror movie fans alike; instead it can be a reminder of loved ones lost. The Day of the Dead, or Dia De Los Muertos, is a holiday celebrated across Latin America where the living reunite with the dead. Through offerings and decorated altars, family members can encourage those who have passed to come visit them in the land of the living. This belief that spirits come back and can see their loved ones, even for just a night, is a twist on how modern horror culture views spirits. 

At the end of the day, I don’t know if ghosts are real and I don’t think I’ll ever truly find out. However, what I do know is that if ghosts are more like our loved ones and less likeThe Conjuring’s Bathsheba, it makes my Halloween a little less terrifying.

The shooting of right-wing commentator Charlie Kirk shocked people on all sides of the political spectrum. Whether one agrees with Kirk’s politics or not, the attack served as a disturbing reminder that violence is becoming an alarmingly common part of our political environment.

But incidents of political violence don’t exist in a vacuum. They’re part of a much larger and more dangerous trend. And while it’s easy to focus only on high-profile moments of violence, this crisis runs deeper than any one person, party, or ideology.

To fully understand what’s happening, we need to take a step back and ask: What is political violence, really? Where is it coming from? And why has it become such a prominent force in American life?

What Is Political Violence?

Political violence is the deliberate use of force or harm to achieve political objectives. It occurs when individuals or groups use physical aggression, intimidation or destruction to influence power structures, policies or social order. This can includes armed uprisings, terrorism, assassinations, voting intimidation or violent protests. What sets political violence apart from ordinary violence is its intentions; it is motivated by political aims rather than personal gain or individual disputes. Because it seeks to shape or maintain systems of power through fear and force political violence often destabilizes societies and deepens political conflict. 

A Sharp Increase Since 2016

The problem of political violence in the U.S. didn’t begin in 2016, but that year marked a turning point as the presidential campaign and success of President Trump marked a change to the America public; the political climate became more divided, more angry, and more hostile. As extremist rhetoric gained ground in mainstream politics, acts of political violence began to rise.

The events speak for themselves:

In 2017, a white supremacist drove his car into a crowd of anti-racist protesters in Charlottesville, killing Heather Heyer. In addition, Steve Scalise, the then Republican Minority House Whip, was shot during practice for the Congressional baseball game.

In 2018, 11 people were murdered in a mass shooting at the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh, the deadliest attack on Jews on American soil.

In 2019, a gunman targeting immigrants killed more than 20 people in a Walmart in El Paso, Texas, after posting a white nationalist manifesto online.

On January 6, 2021, rioters stormed the U.S. Capitol in an attempt to overturn the results of a fair, democratic election. At least seven people lost their lives in connection with the attack.

In 2022, a white supremacist killed 10 Black people at a Buffalo, New York supermarket, motivated by racist conspiracy theories.

In 2023, Paul Pelosi, husband of then-House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, was brutally attacked in his home by an intruder seeking to harm the Speaker, citing political grievances.

In 2024, Donald Trump was the target of an attempted assassination at a campaign rally in Butler, Pennsylvania. 

As Louis Jacobson and Amy Sherman point out in the article, How recent political violence in the U.S. fits into ‘a long, dark history’:

“In 2025 alone, Minnesota Democratic state Rep. Melissa Hortman and her husband were fatally shot; an arsonist set fire to the Pennsylvania governor’s residence with Democratic Gov. Josh Shapiro and his family inside; an Immigration and Customs Enforcement officer was shot and injured outside a detention facility in Texas; the New Mexico Republican Party headquarters was set on fire; and a shooter attacked the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention headquarters.” 

These were not random acts of violence; they were political acts, driven by ideology and fueled by misinformation, hate and fear. And they’re not isolated either. In recent years, political threats against elected officials have skyrocketed. Armed groups have shown up at protests and polling stations. Voter intimidation is back in the headlines.

What we’re seeing is a shift in political norms. The american public is more likely to supporting the breaking the “rules” of democracy and political violence is increasingly viewed as a legitimate tool in political conflicts.

Guns Make It All More Dangerous

In no other wealthy country is this trend of political violence more deadly than in the United States, and that’s because of one defining factor: gun. While it is true that there are many factors leading to a rise in political violence, the number of fatalities is unique to America.

America’s deep-rooted gun culture means that political violence here isn’t just loud—it’s lethal. In an already polarized climate, widespread access to firearms turns heated disagreements into potential battlefields.When armed groups show up to polling places or rallies, it’s no longer just speech, it’s intimidation. And when people with extreme views believe they have both a cause and the firepower to fight for it, innocent lives are often caught in the crossfire.

The United States has far greater access to firearms than any other country.  In fact, the United States is the only country where civilian guns outnumber people. This creates a unique cultural of gun violence, “In 2023, 46,728 people died by firearms in the United States — an average of one death every 11 minutes.”  The connection is simple: the easier it is to access guns, the deadlier political violence becomes.

Why It Matters and What We Can Do

It’s easy to feel overwhelmed or helpless in the face of rising political violence. But apathy will solve nothing. We, as American citizens, have an obligation to protect the democratic norms that keep people safe. This means questioning what we see in the media, holding leaders accountable for their words and actions, and rejecting ideologies that dehumanize others. It means understanding that democracy cannot survive if people believe violence is the only way to be heard.

On Nov. 5,  2023, composers Dr. Nicholas Reeves and Isaac Cates and conductor Dr. Anthony Maglione presented the world premiere of “The Canon for Racial Reconciliation”.

About The Canon

The Canon was commissioned by William Jewell College in 2020 shortly after protests surrounding the death of George Floyd. The concert program describes that the music seeks to “[fuse] the traditions of the Black Church and Orthodox Christianity,” and is the first piece of its kind. The work was set for two choirs: Cardinalis, which is composed of William Jewell College’s top choral students and professional singers from the Kansas City metro area; and Ordained, led by director of music outreach at the Church of the Resurrection Isaac Cates.

The concert program briefly summarizes the piece’s objective in the tagline, “Glory to God for all the flowers in His garden.” Meaning humans represent many different types of flowers; while each one is different, every flower is valuable.

Musical Style

The piece combines two distinct musical styles: that of traditional choral music and that of traditionally Black churches. It weaves these two together with great success. The traditional choral pieces relied heavily on piano, violin and trumpet; the Black church pieces involved significant audience engagement. Composer Nicholas Reeves used a sampler to great effect, overlaying disparate elements such as rushing water or a Martin Luther King, Jr. speech. “We found ways to bring the traditions, the sounds, the oral traditions all together,” Cates told KCUR. “Even the composing of the piece, I think, is reconciliatory.” 

Can art achieve reconciliation?

The day after the concert, the creators of the Canon sat down at the Oxbridge Symposium of Race and Art, an event hosted by Oxbridge senior tutor Dr. Elizabeth Sperry. The question being discussed was,  “To what extent, if at all, can art promote racial reconciliation?”

All three creators agreed that art could take a significant role in racial reconciliation. “Part of reconciliation,” Mr. Cates noted, “is saying people’s names.” The Canon sought to do that from the outset. Thus, on the first page of the program, Dr. Reeves highlights the significance of American composer Eva Jessye in the Canon. Miss Jessye compiled “My Spirituals”, which is a collection of authentically sourced spirituals. “Jessye’s arrangements,” writes Reeves, “are heard as melodic extractions, the harmonic foundation, or direct quotations. In effect, Eva Jessye becomes the third composer of the ‘Canon.’”

Sourcing music authentically, though, does not assist in reconciliation if the art is not genuine. According to Cates, “For art to be genuine, it has to be lived in. Empathy can start with just learning [about] each other.” 

Reeves observed that the Canon “allowed people to connect at a human level,” and Maglione agreed. Dr. Maglione “believe[s that] if everyone sang in choir, maybe they’d all learn how to listen to each other.”

Reconciliation begins with empathy and connection; if there is no connection between people, racist stereotypes can continue. The first step in reconciliation is realization—the realization that all of us are human. We must first humanize the dehumanized, lift up the downtrodden and examine our internal biases. Then, we are able to ask a question of justice. Reconciliation requires both.