history, and to thinkforward as well.What comes next, in thistwenty-first century? I have an inkling.In the meantime, Pavlov's bellis ringing.Surgeons are, this very moment,mining our crenulatedbrains.We are conditioned,revealed, freed, and accountable. Someoneshouts an order.We do or do not obey. Now, turn the page
history, and to think forward as well. Wha t come s next, in this twenty-first century? I have an inkling. In the meantime , Pavlov's bell is ringing. Surgeons are, this very moment , minin g our crenulated brains. We are conditioned, revealed, freed, and accountable . Someon e shouts an order. We do or do not obey. Now, turn the page
一OpeningSkinner's BoxB.F.SKINNER'SRATRACEB.FSkinner,America's leading neo-behaviorist, was born in 1904and died in1990.He is known in thefield ofpsychology for hisfamous animal experiments in which he demonstrated the power ofrewards and reinforcements to shape behavior. Using food, levers, andother environmental cues, Skinner demonstrated that what appear tobe autonomous responses are really cued, and in doing so he threw intoquestion the long-cherished notion of free will. Skinner spent much ofhis scientific career studying and honing what he came to call operantconditioning,the means by which humans can train humans and otheranimals to perform a whole range of tasks and skills through positivereinforcement.Skinner claimed that the mind, or what was then called mentalism,was irrelevant, even nonexistent, and that psychology should onlyfocus on concrete measurable behaviors. His vision was to build aworldwide community where the government would consist of behav-ioral psychologists who could condition, or train, its citizens intophalanxes of benevolent robots. Ofall the twentieth century's psychol-ogists, his experiments and the conclusions he drew about the mecha-nistic nature of men and women may bethe most reviled, yetcontinuously relevant to our increasingly technological age.6
I Opening Skinner's Box B . F . SKINNER' S RA T RAC E B. F. Skinner, America's leading neo-behaviorist, was born in 1904 and died in 1990. He is known in the field of psychology for his famous animal experiments in which he demonstrated the power of rewards and reinforcements to shape behavior. Using food, levers, and other environmental cues, Skinner demonstrated that what appear to be autonomous responses are really cued, and in doing so he threw into question the long-cherished notion of free will. Skinner spent much of his scientific career studying and honing what he came to call operant conditioning, the means by which humans can train humans and other animals to perform a whole range of tasks and skills through positive reinforcement. Skinner claimed that the mind, or what was then called mentalism, was irrelevant, even nonexistent, and that psychology should only focus on concrete measurable behaviors. His vision was to build a worldwide community where the government would consist of behavioral psychologists who could condition, or train, its citizens into phalanxes of benevolent robots. Of all the twentieth century's psychologists, his experiments and the conclusions he drew about the mechanistic nature of men and women may be the most reviled, yet continuously relevant to our increasingly technological age. 6
SD this,perhaps,is the story.There's a man called Skinner,whichimage ofa skinned fish flopping on a hot dock, its heart barely visiblein its mantle ofmuscle,ka-boom.And this man Skinner, this mania-cal psychologist with a grizzly head ofcoarse white hair, he suppos-edly raised his own baby in a box so as to better train her, like somecircus animal, like some seal with a bright ball on its nose.The storygoes that B. F. Skinner, who had covert connections to the Nazis,desired nothing more than to shape-and shape is the operative wordherethe behavior ofpeople subjected to gears and boxes and but-tons and strict schedules of reinforcement so that,under his hand,whatever humanity he touched turned to bone.Say the name "Skinner'to twenty college-educated people,andfifteen ofthem will respond with an adjective like"evil."This I knowto be true, as I have done it as an experiment, Of those fifteen whoresponded,ten brought up the baby in the boxwhat was her namethey ask,Julia,Kimberly,Annie May?-who was so traumatized byher father's protocols throughout her infancy that she wound upkilling herselfin a hotel room, with rope and a pistol-the details areunclear.This much we presume we know:Her name was Deborah.He wanted to train her, so he kept her caged for two full years,plac-ing within her cramped square space bells and food trays and allmanner ofmean punishments and bright rewards, and he tracked herprogress on a grid,And then, when she was thirty-one and franklypsychotic, she sued him for abuse in a genuine court oflaw,lost thecase,and shot herselfin a bowling alley inBillings,Montana.Boom-boom went the gun.Its resonating sound signaled the end ofbehav-iorism's heyday and the beginning of the dark suspicions that haveclouded itever since.In the1960s, Skinnergave an interviewto biographer RichardI.Evans in which he openly admitted that his efforts at social engineer-ing had implications for fascism and might be used for totalitarianends. Such a man it would be better to ignore, but we can't.In I97l
S o this, perhaps, is the story.There's a ma n called Skinner, whic h is an ugly name by any account, a name with a knife in it, an image of a skinned fish flopping on a hot dock, its heart barely visible in its mantle of muscle, ka-boom. An d this man Skinner, this mania - cal psychologist with a grizzly head of coarse whit e hair, he supposedly raised his own baby in a bo x so as to bette r train her, like some circus animal, like some seal with a bright ball on its nose. Th e story goes that B. F. Skinner, wh o had covert connections to the Nazis, desired nothing mor e than to shape—and shape is the operative word here—th e behavior of peopl e subjected to gears and boxes and buttons and strict schedules of reinforcement so that, under his hand, whatever humanity he touche d turned to bone . Say the name "Skinner " to twenty college-educated people, and fifteen of them will respond with an adjective like "evil." This I kno w to be true, as I have done it as an experiment. Of those fifteen wh o responded, ten brought up the baby in the box—wha t was her name they ask, Julia, Kimberly, Anni e May?—wh o was so traumatized by he r father's protocols throughout he r infancy that she woun d up killing herself in a hote l room, with rope and a pistol—the details are unclear. This muc h we presume we know: He r name was Deborah . He wanted to train her, so he kept he r caged for two full years, plac - ing within he r cramped square space bells and food trays and all manne r of mea n punishments and bright rewards, and he tracked he r progress on a grid. An d then, whe n she was thirty-one and frankly psychotic, she sued him for abuse in a genuine court of law, lost the case, and shot herself in a bowling alley in Billings, Montana . Boom - boo m went the gun. Its resonating sound signaled the end of behaviorism's heyday and the beginning of the dark suspicions that have clouded it ever since. In the 1960s, Skinne r gave an interview to biographe r Richar d I. Evans in whic h he openly admitted that his efforts at social engineering had implications for fascism and might be used for totalitarian ends. Suc h a man it would be bette r to ignore, but we can't. In 1971
Time magazine named him the most influential living psychologist.Anda1975 surveyidentifiedhim as thebest-known scientist intheUnited States.His experiments are still held in the highest esteem byour contemporary Nobel laureates,our neurophysiologists.He dis-covered something that has stayed.What is it?Type"B.F. Skinner into your search engine and you will getthousands of hits, among them the Web site of an outraged fatherwho damned the man for murdering an innocent child; a Web sitewitha skull, and AynRand writing,"Skinner is so obsessed with ahatred ofman's mind and virtue, so intense and consuming a hatredthat it consumes itself and in the end what we liave are only grayashes and a few stinking coals'; a memorial of sorts for Deborah,who had supposedlydied inthe198Os:"Deborah,ourheartsgo outto you."And then a tiny red link that reads,"For Deborah Skinnerherself, click here."I did. A picture of a brown-haired middle-agedwoman scrolled down,"My name is Deborah Skinner,"the captionread,"and my suicide is a myth. I am alive and well.The box is notwhat it seems.My father is not what he seems. He was a brilliant psy-chologist, a compassionate parent.I write to dispel the legends.Legends,Stories. True tales. Tall tales.Perhaps the challenge ofunderstanding Skinner's experiments will be primarily discrimina-tory, separating content from controversy, a sifting through.Writespsychologist and historian John A. Mills, "[Skinner] was a mysterywrapped in ariddlewrapped in an enigma."I decided towade in, slowly.HEWASBORNinI9o4.Thismuchisforsure.Beyondthat,though,what I find is a tangle ofcontradictions. He was one ofAmerica's pre-mier behaviorists, a man of real rigidity who slept in a bright yellowcubicle from Japan called a beddoe, but at the same time he could notwork unless his desk was cluttered, and he said ofhis own course,"Itisamazing the number of trivial accidents which have made a differ-
Time magazine name d him the most influential living psychologist. A n d a 197 5 survey identified him as the best-known scientist in the Unite d States. His experiments are still held in the highest esteem by our contemporar y Nobe l laureates, ou r neurophysiologists. He discovered something that has stayed. Wha t is it? Type "B . F. Skinner " into your search engine and you will get thousands of hits, amon g them the We b site of an outraged father w h o damned the man for murdering an innocen t child; a We b site with a skull, and Ayn Ran d writing, "Skinne r is so obsessed with a hatred of man's min d and virtue, so intense and consumin g a hatred that it consume s itself and in the en d wha t we liave are only gray ashes and a few stinking coals" ; a memoria l of sorts for Deborah , w h o had supposedly died in the 1980s: "Deborah , our hearts go out to you." An d then a tiny red link that reads, "Fo r Debora h Skinne r herself, click here." I did. A picture of a brown-haired middle-aged woma n scrolled down. "M y name is Debora h Skinner, " the caption read, "and my suicide is a myth. I am alive and well. Th e bo x is not wha t it seems. My father is not what he seems. He was a brilliant psychologist, a compassionate parent. I writ e to dispel the legends." Legends. Stories. Tru e tales. Tall tales. Perhaps the challenge of understanding Skinner's experiments will be primarily discrimina - tory, separating conten t from controversy, a sifting through. Write s psychologist and historian Joh n A. Mills, "[Skinner] was a mystery wrapped in a riddle wrapped in an enigma. " I decided to wade in, slowly. HE WAS BOR N in 1904.This muc h is for sure. Beyon d that, though, what I find is a tangle of contradictions. He was one of America's premie r behaviorists, a man of real rigidity wh o slept in a bright yellow cubicle from Japan called a beddoe, but at the same time he could not work unless his desk was cluttered, and he said of his own course,"It is amazing the numbe r of trivial accidents whic h have made a differ-
M1111f1NDEX-9WPCence...,I don't believe my life was planned at any point."But then heoften wrote he felt like god and"a sort ofsavior to humanity."When Skinner was a fellow at Harvard, he met and fell in lovewith a woman namedYvonne,who would later become his wife.Isee them on Friday nights, driving to Monhegan's Gull Pond withtheblack convertible topfolded back and somekind ofmoodyjazzplaying on the radio.Once at the pond, they take offtheir clothesand skinny-dip, the brackish waters on their bodies, the cool nightair, the moon a snipped hole in the sky.I read in a dusty text in thebasement of a library that after training sessions, he used to take hiscaged pigeons out and hold them in his huge hand, stroking theirdowny heads with his first finger.I was very surprised to learn that before he went to Harvard tostudy psychology in 1928, Skinner's aspiration was to be a novelist,and he had spent eighteen prior months holed up in his mother'sattic writing lyric prose.How he went from lyric prose totimed ratesofreinforcement is not all clear to mehowa man can make such asharp swerve. He writes that when he was around twenty-three, hecame across an article by H. G.Wells in the New York Times Magazinein which Wells stated that given the chance between saving the life ofIvan Pavlov or George Bernard Shaw,Wells would choose Pavlov,because science is more redemptive than art.And indeed, the world needed redemption. The Great War hadended one decade ago. Shell-shocked soldiers suffered from flash-backs and depressions; asylums were packed; there was an urgentneed for some kind of treatment scheme. When Skinner went toHarvard, in 1928, as a graduate student, the scheme was largely psy-choanalytic.Everyoneeverywhere waslying down:onleathercouches and fishing ephemeral tidbits from their pasts. Freud ruled,along with the venerable William James, who hadwrittenTheVarieties of Religious Experience, a text about introspective soul states,with not one equation in it.That, in fact, was the state ofpsychologywhen Skinner entered; it was a numberless field sharing more with
WpCUlIl g tMllllf l N DUX 9 ence. . I don't believe my life was planned at any point." Bu t then he often wrot e he felt like god and "a sort of savior to humanity." Whe n Skinne r was a fellow at Harvard, he me t and fell in love with a woma n name d Yvonne , wh o would later becom e his wife. I see them on Friday nights, driving to Monhegan's Gull Pon d with the black convertible top folded back and some kind of mood y jaz z playing on the radio. Onc e at the pond, they take off their clothes and skinny-dip, the brackish waters on their bodies, the coo l night air, the moo n a snipped hol e in the sky. I read in a dusty text in the basement of a library that after training sessions, he used to take his caged pigeons out and hold them in his huge hand, stroking their downy heads with his first finger. I was very surprised to learn that before he wen t to Harvard to study psychology in 1928 , Skinner's aspiration was to be a novelist, and he had spent eighteen prior months holed up in his mother's attic writing lyric prose. Ho w he went from lyric prose to timed rates of reinforcement is not all clear to me—ho w a man can make such a sharp swerve. He writes that whe n he was around twenty-three, he came across an article by H. G.Wells in the New York Times Magazine in whic h Wells stated that given the chanc e betwee n saving the life of Ivan Pavlov or Georg e Bernar d Shaw, Wells woul d choos e Pavlov, because scienc e is mor e redemptive than art. A n d indeed, the world needed redemption. Th e Great Wa r had ended on e decade ago. Shell-shocked soldiers suffered from flashbacks and depressions; asylums were packed; there was an urgent need for some kind o f treatment scheme . Whe n Skinne r wen t t o Harvard, in 1928 , as a graduate student, the scheme was largely psychoanalytic. Everyon e everywher e was lying down on leather couche s and fishing ephemera l tidbits from their pasts. Freud ruled, along with the venerable William James, wh o had written The Varieties of Religious Experience, a text about introspective soul states, with not on e equation in it. That, in fact, was the state of psychology whe n Skinne r entered; it was a numberless field sharing mor e with