Cursed?

They thought it was over. After nearly a century of World Series drought, two cities thought they were finally going to make it. Both Chicago and Boston came within innings of winning their league's pennant, only to see their teams inexplicably fall apart. No one even had to say what was on everyone's mind: The Curse.

What is a curse? And why are we so inclined to believe in them? Curses seem to come in at least two types. One is the kind supposedly afflicting the Chicago Cubs, a destiny of failure wished upon them by the ill will of a man whose billy goat was refused access to Wrigley Field. Another kind is the one allegedly over the heads of the Boston Red Sox, the natural karmic result of committing the grievous baseball crime of selling Babe Ruth. The first curse arises from a strange cantankerous "shaman," the second from offending the equally mysterious "baseball gods."

The appeal of thinking these curses are true might come from our excitement toward the out-of-the-ordinary. Something within us seems to affirm that life should be more than what we understand, that reality is not limited to what we can see and touch. Our favorite legends and myths are filled with this idea, frequently involving a quest to reverse a curse.

But curiosity and excitement can't be the only reasons some people believe in curses. They are, after all, curses. It's not exactly fun to see your favorite baseball team take a dive year after year (after year). And who can find excitement in any of the number of real evils and tragedies we associate with curses? The fact that bad things happen, especially if they happen to us, does not make us idly curious but desperately questioning. We grasp at the darkness, wanting to know why bad things happen, and some settle on the idea of the curse. Curses provide at least a reason behind what seems so senseless, and in that way they can even be comforting.

There is still a subtler way to treat curses seriously: If you do, you might be able to do some cursing of your own. A curse is simply a wish. But if you believe that wish actually has power over events, then you are really giving that power to the wisher. If curses are real, that means whoever gives the curse (whether shaman or layman) can really get things to go their way, just by wanting to.

This desire - for people and circumstances to bend to our will alone - is not new. The only thing new is our technique. We have (for the most part) given up on the magic spells and amulets of our ancestors, but only in exchange for more modest methods like passive aggression and corporate lobbying. People in the past were no less power-hungry than we are, only more honest about their intentions.

But whether in the past or the present, the idea that reality can bend to your will by your will alone has always been plain superstition. It just doesn't work. If something is true you can't make it false, and if something is false you can't make it true, just by wishing it were so. You have only the option of working along with what's true or against it. Moreover, if the Jews, Christians, and Muslims are right, and there is an all-powerful God who created and now sustains all that exists, then there is nothing that can happen outside his permission. Curses made by men cannot have irrevocable power. You cannot sneak around God. You only have the power to do what you can in fact do.

While curses can give the illusion of control, the belief in them can also blind someone to the control they really do have. If someone is convinced that it is a curse, or some kind of inescapable fate, that is the cause of all their ills, it becomes very easy to hide behind that belief. You can avoid responsibility for doing anything about your faults. What was responsible for the Red Sox loss to the Yankees? It was not a curse. It was not the constellation of the stars. It was a choice, made by Grady Little, to leave a pitcher in one inning too long. Grady might be able to defend himself saying he did what he thought was best, but he cannot defend himself saying "the curse made me do it.". Only if he says "I made a mistake" can he make steps to improve.

His choice is also ours, when we try to blame our faults on uncontrollable forces. The only real curse is our freedom to be wrong. And until we admit that, we only bring a curse on ourselves.

Jack Grimes is a senior majoring in Philosophy and Political Science.He can be reached via e-mail at grimes@tuftsdaily.com.