Lauren SlaterOpeningSkinner'sBoxGreat Psychological Experiments
IntroductionI did my first psychological experiment when I was fourteen yearsold.There were raccoons living in the walls ofour old Maine vaca-tion house, and one day I stuck my hand in the crumbling plasterand pulled out a squalling baby, still milk-smeared, its eyes closedand its tiny paws pedaling in the air.Days later the sealed eye slitsopened, and because I'd heard ofKonrad Lorenz and his imprintedducklings,I made sure the mammal saw me first, its streaming fieldof vision taking in my form-hands and feet and face. It worked.Immediately the raccoon-I called her Amelia Earheart-began tofollow me everywhere,wreathing around my ankles, scrambling upmy calves when shewas afraid.She followed meto the town book-store,to school, down busy streets, into bed, but in truth, I began totake on more ofher behaviors than she mine.Even though I was theimprinter, with Amelia at my side I learned to fish in a pond withmy human paws; I learned to latch on to the soft scree at the base ofa rotting tree and climb, I learned the pleasures ofnocturnity, the sil-ver-wet grass, black rings beneath my tired eyes. The results:"Imprinting," I wrote in my science notebook, "happens to themother too."Who, I wondered, influenced whom in this symbioticpairing? Could species shift from their specific shapes and become
Introduction I did my first psychologica l experimen t whe n I was fourteen years old. Ther e wer e raccoon s living in the walls of our old Main e vaca - tion house, and on e day I stuck my hand in the crumblin g plaster and pulled out a squalling baby, still milk-smeared, its eyes closed and its tiny paws pedaling in the air. Days later the sealed eye slits opened, and becaus e I'd heard of Konra d Loren z and his imprinted ducklings, I made sure the mamma l saw me first, its streaming field of vision taking in my form—hand s and feet and face. It worked. Immediately the raccoon—I called he r Ameli a Earheart—bega n to follow me everywhere , wreathing around my ankles, scrambling up my calves whe n she was afraid. Sh e followed me to the town book - store, to school, down busy streets, into bed, but in truth, I began to take on mor e of he r behaviors than she mine . Eve n though I was the imprinter, with Ameli a at my side I learned to fish in a pon d with my human paws; I learned to latch on to the soft scree at the base of a rotting tree and climb; I learned the pleasures of nocturnity, the silver-we t grass, black rings beneath my tired eyes. Th e results: "Imprinting, " I wrot e in my scienc e notebook , "happens to the mothe r too. " Who , I wondered, influenced who m in this symbioti c pairing? Coul d species shift from their specific shapes and become
1iiiiiuuinnunthrough exposure,something altogether other?Was there really a boyraised by wolves, a chimpanzee who signed with words? The ques-tions fascinated me then, and still do today More fascinating to mebecame, over time,as I grew older, the means by which one exploredthese questions:the hypothesis, the experimental design, the detailedqualitative description, thebreathless orboring wait forresults.Iwasfirst hooked on Amelia and later hooked on the pure plot that struc-tures almost all psychological experiments, intentional or not.While it would bereductiveto saya raccoonrests at the bottom ofthis book, Amelia is certainly the image that comes to mind when Ithink ofits etiology.Beyond that, I have for a long time felt that psy-chological experiments are fascinating, because at their best they arecompressed experience, life distilled to its potentially elegant essence,the metaphorical test tube parsing the normally blended parts so youmight see love, or fear, or conformity, or cowardice play its role inparticular circumscribed contexts: Great psychological experimentsamplify a domain ofbehavior or being usually buried in the pell-mell ofour fast and frantic lives.Peering through this lens is to seesomething ofourselves.When I studied psychology in graduate school,I again had thechance to perform experiments and observations on all sorts ofani-mals.I saw the embryo ofan angel fishgrowfrom a few single cellsto a fully finned thing in forty-eight hours flat-life putting togetheritspuzzlepieces right before myeyes.I saw strokevictims deny theright sides oftheir faces and Hindsight patients mysteriously read let-ters despite their dead eyes.I observed people waiting for elevatorsand had this as my salient question: Why is it that people continu-ously press the button when they're waiting in the lobby, eventhough they know,if interviewed, that it won't make the elevatorcome any faster? What does "elevator behavior" say about humanbeings?I also, of course,read the classic psychological experimentswhere they had been housedin academic journals,mostly,repletewith quantified data and black-bar graphsand it seemed somewhatsad to me.It seemed sad that these insightful and dramatic stories
I iiiiiuui n nu n through exposure, something altogether other? Was there really a bo y raised by wolves, a chimpanze e wh o signed with words? Th e questions fascinated me then, and still do today Mor e fascinating to me became , over time, as I grew older, the means by whic h on e explored these questions: the hypothesis, the experimenta l design, the detailed qualitative description, the breathless or borin g wait for results. I was first hooke d on Ameli a and later hooke d on the pure plot that struc - tures almost all psychological experiments, intentional or not. Whil e it would be reductive to say a raccoo n rests at the bottom of this book , Ameli a is certainly the image that come s to min d whe n I think of its etiology. Beyon d that, I have for a long time felt that psychologica l experiments are fascinating, because at their best they are compressed experience , life distilled to its potentially elegant essence, the metaphorica l test tube parsing the normally blended parts so you might see love, or fear, or conformity, or cowardice play its role in particular circumscribed contexts. Great psychological experiments amplify a domain of behavior or being usually buried in the pellmell of our fast and frantic lives. Peering through this lens is to see something o f ourselves. Whe n I studied psychology in graduate school, I again had the chanc e to perform experiments and observations on all sorts of animals. I saw the embry o of an angel fish grow from a few single cells to a fully finned thing in forty-eight hours flat—life putting togethe r its puzzle pieces right before my eyes. I saw stroke victims deny the right sides of their faces and Hindsight patients mysteriously read letters despite their dead eyes. I observed peopl e waiting for elevators and had this as my salient question: Wh y is it that peopl e continu - ously press the button whe n they're waiting in the lobby, even though they know, if interviewed, that it won't make the elevator com e any faster? Wha t does "elevator behavior " say about huma n beings? I also, of course, read the classic psychological experiments wher e they had bee n housed—in academi c journals, mostly, replete with quantified data and black-ba r graphs—and it seemed somewha t sad to me . It seemed sad that these insightful and dramatic stories
were reduced to the flatness that characterizes most scientific reports,and had therefore utterly failed to capture what only real narrativecan-theme, desire, plot,historythis is what we are. The experi-ments described in thisbook,and many others, deserve to be notonly reported on as research, but also celebrated as story,which iswhat I have heretried to do.Our lives, after all, are not data points and means and modes; theyare stories-absorbed, reconfigured, rewritten. We most fully inte-grate that which is told as tale. My hope is that some ofthese exper-iments will be more fully taken in by readers now that they havebeen translatedinto narrative form.Psychology and its allied professionsrepresent a huge disparatefield that funnels down to the single synapse while simultaneouslyradiating outward to describe whole groups of human beings,Thisbook does not contain, by any means, all the experiments that repre-sent the reach of that arc; it would take volumes to do that. I havechosen ten experiments based on the input ofmy colleagues and myown narrative tastes, experiments that for me and others seem toraise the boldest questions in some ofthe boldest ways.Who are we?What makes us human? Are we truly the authors of our own lives?What does it mean to be moral?What does it mean to be free? Intelling the stories ofthese experiments, I revisit them from my con-temporary point of view, asking what relevance they have for usnow, in this new world. Does Skinner's behaviorism have meaningfor current-day neurophysiologists who can probe the neural corre-lates of his habit-driven rats?Does Rosenhan's horrifying andcomedic experiment on mental illness, its perception and diagnoses,still hold true today,when we supposedly abide by more objectivediagnostic criteria in the naming of "disease"? Can we even defineas disease syndromes that have no clear-cut physiological etiology orpathophysiology? Is psychology,which deals halfin metaphor, halfinstatistics,really a science at all?Isn't scienceitselfa form ofmetaphor?A long time ago, in the late I8oOs,Wilhelm Wundt, long consideredpsychology's founding father,opened one of the first instrument-
wer e reduced to the flatness that characterizes most scientific reports, and had therefore utterly failed to capture wha t only real narrative can—theme , desire, plot, history—this is what we are. Th e experiments described in this book , and many others, deserve to be no t only reported on as research, but also celebrated as story, whic h is wha t I have here tried to do. O u r lives, after all, are not data points and means and modes; they are stories—absorbed, reconfigured, rewritten. We most fully inte - grate that whic h is told as tale. My hop e is that some of these experiments will be mor e fully taken in by readers now that they have bee n translated into narrative form. Psychology and its allied professions represent a huge disparate field that funnels down to the single synapse whil e simultaneously radiating outward to describe whol e groups of human beings. This boo k does not contain, by any means, all the experiments that represent the reach of that arc; it would take volumes to do that. I have chosen ten experiments based on the input of my colleagues and my o wn narrative tastes, experiments that for me and others seem to raise the boldest questions in some of the boldest ways. Wh o are we ? Wha t makes us human? Ar e we truly the authors of our own lives? Wha t does it mea n to be moral? Wha t does it mea n to be free? In telling the stories of these experiments, I revisit them from my con - temporary point of view, asking wha t relevance they have for us now, in this new world. Doe s Skinner's behaviorism have meanin g for current-day neurophysiologists wh o can probe the neural corre - lates of his habit-driven rats? Doe s Rosenhan's horrifying and comedi c experimen t on menta l illness, its perception and diagnoses, still hold true today, whe n we supposedly abide by mor e objective diagnostic criteria in the naming of "disease"? Ca n we even define as disease syndromes that have no clear-cut physiological etiology or pathophysiology? Is psychology, whic h deals half in metaphor, half in statistics, really a scienc e at all? Isn't scienc e itself a form of metaphor ? A long time ago, in the late 1800s, Wilhelm Wundt, long considered psychology's founding father, opene d on e of the first instrument-
based psychology labs in the world, a lab dedicated to measurement,and so a science ofpsychology was born.But as these experimentsdemonstrate, it was born breech, born badly, a chimerical organismwith ambiguous limbs.Now,over one hundred years later, the beasthas grown up.What is it? This book doesn't answer this question, butit does address it in the context ofStanleyMilgram's shock machine,Bruce Alexander's addicted rats, Darley and Latane's smoke-filledrooms, Moniz's lobotomy,and other experiments as well.In this book we see how psychology is inevitably,ineluctably.moving toward a deeper and deeper mining ofbiological frontiers.We see how theclumsy cuts ofMoniz transformed, or transmogri-fied,depending on your point ofview, into the sterile bloodless sur-gery called cingulotomy.We hear about the inner workings of aneuron, and how genes encode proteins that build those blue eyes,that memory, right there, And yet, while we can explain somethingof the process and mechanisms that inform behavior and eventhought, we are far from explaining why we have the thoughts, whywe gravitate toward this or that, why we hold some memories anddiscard others,what those memories mean to us, and how they shapea life. Kandel,or Skinner, or Pavlov,orWatson can demonstrate aconditioned response, or operant, and the means bywhich it getsencoded in the brain. but what we do with that information once it'sthere depends on circumstances outside the realm ofscience entirely.In other words, we may be able to define the physiological substratesofmemory, but in the end we are still the ones who weave, or not,still the ones who workthe raw material into itsfinal form andmeaning.Writing about these experiments has been, therefore, an exercisein writing about both science and art.It has provided me with achance to learn about outcomes while studying the personalities ofthe players who chose to investigate, for all sorts ofreasons, the set ofevents that led them to their final data. And then to observe how thatdata fueled their futures and their pasts, how they used it, or failed todo so. This book, above all, has been a chance for me to go back in
based psychology labs in the world, a lab dedicated to measurement, and so a scienc e of psychology was born . Bu t as these experiments demonstrate, it was bor n breech, bor n badly, a chimerica l organism with ambiguous limbs. Now, over on e hundred years later, the beast has grown up. Wha t is it? This boo k doesn't answer this question, but it does address it in the contex t of Stanley Milgram's shock machine , Bruc e Alexander's addicted rats, Darley and Latane's smoke-filled rooms, Moniz's lobotomy, and othe r experiments as well. In this boo k we see ho w psychology is inevitably, ineluctably, movin g toward a deepe r and deepe r mining of biologica l frontiers. We see ho w the clumsy cuts o f Moni z transformed, o r transmogrified, depending on your point of view, into the sterile bloodless surgery called cingulotomy. We hear about the inne r workings of a neuron, and how genes encod e proteins that build those blue eyes, that memory, right there. An d yet, whil e we can explain something of the process and mechanisms that inform behavior and even thought, we are far from explaining wh y we have the thoughts, wh y we gravitate toward this or that, wh y we hold some memorie s and discard others, wha t those memorie s mea n to us, and how they shape a life. Kandel, or Skinner, or Pavlov, or Watson can demonstrate a conditioned response, or operant, and the means by whic h it gets encode d in the brain, but wha t we do with that information onc e it's there depends on circumstances outside the realm of scienc e entirely. In othe r words, we may be able to define the physiological substrates of memory, but in the end we are still the ones wh o weave, or not, still the ones wh o work the raw material into its final form and meaning. Writin g about these experiments has been, therefore, an exercise in writing about both scienc e and art. It has provided me with a chanc e to learn about outcome s whil e studying the personalities of the players wh o chos e to investigate, for all sorts of reasons, the set of events that led them to their final data. An d then to observe ho w that data fueled their futures and their pasts, ho w they used it, or failed to do so. This book , above all, has bee n a chanc e for me to go back in