On my last visit to the family home, years ago now, I filled a box with random letters and cards from my teenage years in the 1980s. I peer into the box on random days and, yesterday, I found a ‘chain letter’, folded but without its envelope. I share it with you in this letter.

Dear You—

Chain letters: those creepy messages, originally sent—anonymously—by post, to convince you to make copies and send on to a specified number of recipients so that you might have good luck and avoid all forms of bad luck, including your own death.

I remember we received a number of these in the 80s at the family home in Sydney. I think I remember receiving my first chain letter when I was thirteen. It was 1983.

The experience was both terrifying and thrilling.

There are so many incongruities in chain letters. They flagrantly insult the intellect—even the intellect of a thirteen year old. There can’t possibly be a causal relationship between this letter and a prize of $40,000 or, alternatively, the death of a loved one! Right?

And yet, yet (!), they powerfully gripped my heart, my whole body and revealed my personal vulnerabilities: my naïveté, my over-conscientiousness and my over-intellectualisation.

I remember feeling the grip in my stomach, my tummy, my other intelligence. I remember reading these letters and feeling the intense battle between my mind and my tummy. My mind noted the incongruities in the letter, but my tummy! My tummy tightened and sickened as it reacted to the letter’s emotional triggers:

Fear: “A man received the letter and not believing threw it away. Nine days later, he died.”

Hope: “After a few days you will get a surprise.”

Belief: “This is true even if you are not superstitious.”

Trust: “THIS IS NO JOKE.”

Connection: “It has been around the world nine times. The luck has now been sent to you.”

On a single page, composed in the most banal rhetoric, typewritten and/or photocopied, these chain letters communicated two major mysteries of human life: the thrilling hope that you are indeed the lucky one this time; and the frightening threat that, should you refuse the invitation, you might be responsible for bad luck coming to you and your loved ones. You could lose money, or worse, you could lose your life.

I was thirteen and remember feeling overwhelmed with panic about these. On the one hand, I didn’t want to break the chain and receive bad luck. I wanted to be a “good girl”. On the other hand, I didn’t want to pass this on to others in case they broke the chain and received bad luck. I cared for others and could not bear the thought of being responsible for their misfortune. Now, my head knew that nothing bad or good would result whether I passed on the letter or not; but my body held on to some mysterious ancient fears.

Let me share the letter with you.

The ‘Kiss-Death’ chain letter

This paper has been been sent to you for good luck. The original copy is in England. It has been around the world nine times. The luck has now been sent to you. You will receive good luck within four days of receiving this letter providing you send it back out. THIS IS NO JOKE. You will receive it in the mail.

Send copies to people you think need good luck. Do not send money as Fate has no price. Do not keep this letter. It must leave your hands within 96 hours. An Air Force officer received $70,000. Joe Elliott received $40,000 and lost it because he broke the chain. While in the Philippines, Gene Welch lost his wife six days after receiving this letter. He failed to circulate the letter. However, before her death she had won $50,000 in a lottery. The money transferred to him four days after he decided to mail out this letter.

Please make 20 copies of this letter and see what happens in four days. The chain comes from Venezuela and was written by Saul Anthony de Croff, a missionary from South America. Since the copy must make a tour of the world, you must make 20 copies and send them to your friends and associates. After a few days you will get a surprise. This is true even if you are not superstitious.

Do note the following: Constantine Dias received the chain in 1953. He asked his secretary to make 20 copies and send them out. A few days later, he won a lottery of 2 million dollars. Andy Daddit, an office employee, received this letter and forgot it has to leave his hands within 96 hours. He lost his job. Later, after finding the letter again, he mailed out 20 copies. A few days after he got a better job. Oulen Fairchild received the letter and not believing threw it away. Nine days later, he died.1

Does this have anything to do with metanoia?

I don’t yet know how this all fits into this newsletter’s mission2. But I suspect that being curious about everything is an important part of this self-exploratory practice, this personal archaeology. And I’ve become more and more curious about the influences around me during my child and teenage years.

Looking back now, I remember being quietly frightened by these letters. They tapped into one of my greatest fears: that I could, by my own inaction and ignorance, hurt others.

The letter’s threat is not just that you’ll bring bad luck to yourself but that others around you might suffer bad luck.

This was frightening to me. It exploited my need to be a good person and to not spread harm. As I wrote above, I felt very uneasy about forwarding these letters to others. What if they didn’t believe in the letter and ignored it? What if they didn’t copy and distribute it and then something happened to them? It would, of course, be my fault for passing on this letter to them.

Did I copy and send on these letters?

I don’t remember sending any of these letters on. I do remember how my father was a very strong sceptic about all things and opinions outside of his own. I suspect he might have baulked at the letters and, intent on defying the gods—just like his ancestors—would have influenced me too.

Yet, as I write this now, there is something magical about the enticement to participate, to collaborate, to join forces for betterment, even though in the above letter the persuasive strategy is deeply creepy and manipulative: ‘do this or die’.

Still, there’s something powerful in the instruction to copy out words and distribute them. This is an age-old practice dating back to, say, the Egyptian Book of the Dead, as suggested by The Smithsonian3 for instance, which promised “great benefit” to those that made a copy of a certain image.

Moreover, letters from the Medieval period, for example the “Letter from Heaven” which claimed to contain messages from Jesus, included instructions to send these messages on to others.4

And then, in the 1880s, chain letters emerged with requests to raise funds to help the poor access education.

The history of the chain letter looks absolutely fascinating as it reveals much about individual and social psychology. I’m off to spend more time researching. Thanks for reading!

Meet me in the comments section:

So, tell me, did you receive a chain letter back in the 90s, 80s or earlier? In the post, I mean. Did you make copies? If so, how? Handwritten, photocopied? I would love to know! And if you have any broader insights about psychology, manipulation and persuasion, I’d love to read your thoughts.

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